“But all of this perhaps had not been so bad had he not now resorted to
whiskey. Calling for his jug, he ordered it filled, and seizing a quart
measure, he drank at one draught all it would hold. Instantly, as might
be supposed, his genius broke all bounds; it raged. Filling the quart
measure with water, he made with its contents a wet ring on the floor,
in the center of which he leaped like a savage beast. He smote the air
with his fists and exclaimed in a loud voice: ‘Behold in me, Bob
Turket, Bill Smotherall, and ye red men of the forest and
prairie—behold in me the champion of the world! I defy all that live. I
wager my swift gray nag. I defy the veritable old Devil himself—him of
the cloven hoof and tawny hide. Black imp of hell, thou Satanas, I defy
thee!’
“Scarcely had he uttered these words when a singular murmuring sound
issued from the forests of the Colorado, which, growing louder and
louder, at last seemed to quiver under the whole heavens. Bob Turket
and Bill Smotherall looked at one another, speechless and pale. The
braves gathered about the door stricken with terror. Said the great
Medicine Man, sounding his big bongbooree: ‘It is—it is—it is he! The
Great Father of the Red Son of Blue Thunder has descended from the
clouds. He cometh to aid his great son.’
“Outspake Bob Turket: ‘Mighty champion of the world, norate to us what
is that!’
“The champion of the world, still occupying the center of the ring,
responded: ‘It is not the Great Father of the Red Son of Blue Thunder.
I know that familiar voice: it is Noche—it is dread Noche! I conquered
him once before, and I will conquer him again. Black, dread Noche, I
defy thee!’
“The singular murmuring sound again issued from the deep forests of the
Colorado, growing louder and louder, till the everlasting hills
trembled with the reverberation, and the great oaks bowed their heads.
It articulated distinctly, according to the true report of Bob Turket:
‘Ah, Strap—ah, Strap! Remember, Strap, remember!’
“The champion seized his jug by the handle, and pouring out a quart
measure of the treacherous liquid, imbibed it at a single draught. He
then mounted his swift gray nag and sped away with the fury of a
whirlwind. Bob Turket and Bill Smotherall watched him as he passed out
of view, and then listened to the rapid clatter of hoofs till they died
away in the distance, but durst not venture out of their doors....
Strap entered his cabin.