LIFE IN ARIZONA.

Temuka Leader, Issue 1872, 30 March 1889, Page 3

LIFE IN ARIZONA.

" I've always made it a rule," sail a Chicago commercial traveller, who had just como in from an exteuded tour through tho Far West, " to be polite dim) civil to everyone I meet while out on the road. It pays mo in the long run, and eaves me a heap of trouble. But some times it is pretty rough on ono'ta pridr, and the sacrifices a fellow has to mako in behalf of peace and goodwill ore frightfully galling. About three weeks ago I was in Globe, A.T., with another corrmercial travelller. I visited a notorious saloon in that town, about which I had beard a good deal. We went in out, of puro curiosity, and going to the bar, called for drinks. A rough looking man was standing next the wall about 15ffc awav. He sang out in an unpleasant voice, " I say, stranger, ain't y<> goin' to inyito me to drink with ye ?" Wot happening to feel very geuerous, or like being imposed npoD, I said, " No," and my friend and I raised our glasses to our lips. Instantly a pistol report was heard—a good" loud one, too,—which naturally startled me, and caused me to suspend drinking operations until I could recover from my astonishment. When I looked at my glass I found my liquor in it, but it was cracked and perforated. A bullet'had gone through it, " Bartender," said I, ' s givo me another glass of whisky. This is no good." " You'll pey for it ?" he inquired. " Certainly," said I. Again I raised the glass to ray lips. My hand was not more than three inches from the top of the bar when there was another pistol shot. The giass was shattered into a dozen pieces. At this juncture I began to understand the gam". My blood was up, and I called for a third glass. It was broken as the other had ben. I was frightened nearly out of my boots, and expected to get killed at the next shot, but I was mad, and I kept on calling for glasses until no fewer than five had been broken in my hand. Oo the 6th I felt a sharp pang in one of my fingers. I looked and saw that the bullet had ploughed a furrow half its diameter across the top of my forefinger ; but the gladis was sound, and tho liquor in it. I raised tho glass with a triumphant flourish towards tbo sharpshooter and drank the liquor. He came right up to me, held out his hand, and exclaimed, "Thet'son mar pard. I pay for all them drinks, an' now take another with me. Thet's the fust time in a coon's age I've missed a glass, though it mought be that I've hurt some of the boys' hands a leetle. You're the fust man that ever held up more than two glasses on me. The fust shot gen'rally makes 'em weaken. I like yer nerve, young man, Let's hev suthin' more on me." This fellow, who was one of the most wonderful sharpshooters I ever saw, practised that sort of target work every day, they told me. It _ was_ his regular amusement. Ninety-nine timea out of a huudred he got his drinks for nothing, but whenever he missed a glass or wounded a man he pnid for the drinks all round. Dnrinjj Urn remainder of ray stay in tilobe he treated m* firstolass, and'you can bet that othnr people did, when ha was with me. That man baa had soversl big offers to come east and shoot in public, but he prefers staying out there, living on his share in a mine and amusing himself shooiing between fingers at whisky glasses.