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Tsarnaev was pronounced dead at a hospital in Boston, where he could have been buried under state law, because the city was his place of death. But Boston officials said they wouldn't take the body because Tsarnaev lived in Cambridge, and Cambridge also refused.

His mother also said Russia refused to allow his body into the country so she could bury him in her native Dagestan, but Russian authorities would not comment on that contention. (AP)

Tsarni said Tsarnaev was buried in a cemetery in Doswell, Virginia, near Richmond, though he would not say more about the faith coalition that helped.

"The body's buried. That's it," he said.

With costs to protect the funeral home mounting, Worcester police earlier appealed for help finding a place to bury Tsarnaev. They announced Thursday that "as a result of our public appeal for help, a courageous and compassionate individual came forward to provide the assistance needed to properly bury the deceased."

Tsarnaev was killed April 19 in a getaway attempt after a gunbattle with police. His younger brother, Dzhokhar, was captured later and remains in custody.

The Tsarnaevs' uncle, Ruslan Tsarni of Maryland, took responsibility for arranging the burial after Tamerlan's wife, Katherine Russell, said she wanted the body released to her in-laws.

Saturday, May 11, 2013


BOSTON -- Boston Marathon bombing suspect Tamerlan Tsarnaev was buried in a cemetery in Virginia with the help of a faith coalition, his uncle said Friday.

The secret burial this week ended a frustrating search for a community willing to take the body, which had been kept at a funeral parlor in Worcester, Massachusetts, as cemeteries in Massachusetts and several other states refused to accept the remains.

Quote from: hubag bohol on May 11, 2013, 06:31:24 AM
Day-to-day life on Mars will be no picnic: The organization says that the daily routine on the planet would involve construction work on the colony (installing greenhouses, for example), maintenance of the settlement’s systems and research into Mars’ climate and geological historyâ€"all in an inhospitable environment with unbreathable air and an average temperature in the planet’s mid-latitudes of around -58 degrees Farenheit.

Naay angay aning one-way trip to Mars pero sayang nga di siya madawat kay giango-ango na...

In addition to people skills, successful applicants must be good fundraisers too: Mars One plans to raise much of the mission’s $6 billion estimated cost through a reality TV show following the applicants as they undergo preparations for the one-way trip to Mars. They’ve got a little way to go yet, though: as of April 29, the money raised through donations and merchandise stood at $84,121.

Candidates hailing from over 120 countries (although the vast majority are from the U.S.) uploaded a video to Mars One’s website explaining why they’re suitable for the mission. Kyle, a 21-year-old grocery store clerk from the U.S., says he wants to be “an explorer and pioneer at the forefront of history.” Steven, a 43-year-old American who works in electronics, has even higher hopes for the mission: “I would like to go to Mars… to discover new life,” he says.

“Gone are the days when bravery and the number of hours flying a supersonic jet were the top criteria for selection. Now, we are more concerned with how well each astronaut works and lives with the othersâ€"and for a lifetime of challenges ahead,” said Norbert Kraft, a former Senior Research Associate at NASA and Chief Medical Director for Mars One in a statement published on Mars One’s website.

But Mars One says it is not looking for applicants with specific skills, such as a science degree, that might be useful during an interplanetary posting. Instead, they are looking for people who “have a deep sense of purpose, willingness to build and maintain healthy relationships, the capacity for self-reflection and ability to trust.” They also want volunteers who are “resilient, adaptable, curious, creative and resourceful.” Candidates will receive a minimum of eight years training before leaving Earth, the company says.

Day-to-day life on Mars will be no picnic: The organization says that the daily routine on the planet would involve construction work on the colony (installing greenhouses, for example), maintenance of the settlement’s systems and research into Mars’ climate and geological historyâ€"all in an inhospitable environment with unbreathable air and an average temperature in the planet’s mid-latitudes of around -58 degrees Farenheit.

78,000 People Apply for One-Way Trip to Mars
By Ollie John
May 09, 20130




An artist's impression of Mars One's planned first settlement on the Red Planet. BRYAN VERSTEEG / MARS ONE


An ambitious project to establish a human colony on Mars has attracted applications from tens of thousands of would-be astronauts, just two weeks after applications opened.

The mission, a private venture by the Dutch non-profit organization Mars One, aims to send a crew to the Red Planet in 2022 â€" and, due to the physiological change in the human body after a stay on Mars, there’d be no coming back. That hasn’t deterred people, though: so far, over 78,000 people have applied to become one of Mars’ first immigrants (the company is expecting 500,000 applicants by the time applications close on August 31). “This is turning out to be the most desired job in history,” says Bas Lansdorp, co-founder of Mars One.

Hmm, huwat ko sa comment ni Fr. Chic...

Quote from: chriswise on May 09, 2013, 09:12:48 PM
UNSA on pag sugat naa man kas sa usa ka maanindot nga edipisyo,,,

Kuyawa gud na nga pulong...edipisyo--mora man pud tag milyonir anang kalakiha...

Otro pud ni...

Hmm, kini kay malagmit commissioned og chocolate company...

He he, thanks for the thoughtfulness, guys. Round-eyed cats just don't seem real to me...

He he, sakto. Life, miserable or otherwise, goes on...

Hard-boiled na gid hang manogbinogtong nijang itlog haw...

Cry, my friend. That's the honorable thing to do...

Apil-apil bisag wa kasabot...

Bawion? Mora diayg hatag-bawi, nga maoy gibuhat sa mga bajut nga way nahot...

Nanimaho seguro siyag kanding, sama sa way nahimo sa kinabuhi gawas sa pagpanghadlok. Mora uroyg naay ikabuga...

Hala, kanindot tuod sa eclipse...

Quote from: hubag bohol on May 10, 2013, 11:37:35 AM
The name Major ranked as the fastest-growing boy's name on the SSA list, jumping to 483rd most popular in 2012 from 988th in 2011.

"I have no doubt Major's rising popularity as a boy's name is in tribute to the brave members of the U.S. military, and maybe we'll see more boys named General in the future," Carolyn Colvin, acting commissioner of the SSA, said in a statement.

War freak na jud ning Amerika. No wonder mag-apil-apil pud ang mga way angay...

Quote from: hubag bohol on May 10, 2013, 11:36:47 AM
Messiah was the fourth fastest-growing name for boys, rising to 387th in 2012 from the 633th spot in 2011, according to the federal agency.

Agoi, naunsa na man ning Amerika...

The name Major ranked as the fastest-growing boy's name on the SSA list, jumping to 483rd most popular in 2012 from 988th in 2011.

"I have no doubt Major's rising popularity as a boy's name is in tribute to the brave members of the U.S. military, and maybe we'll see more boys named General in the future," Carolyn Colvin, acting commissioner of the SSA, said in a statement.

For girls, the fastest-growing name was Cataleya, Wattenberg said. It jumped to 479th in 2012 from 1,680 the previous year, she said, adding that could be attributed to actress Zoe Saldana playing an alluring assassin with that name in the 2011 film "Colombiana." (Reporting by Alex Dobuzinskis; Editing by Cynthia Johnston and Peter Cooney)

"So for people who are appalled by the idea, most of us are not appalled by names like Emmanuel, which is very common today, and it wasn't that long ago that the name Emmanuel was shocking to a lot of people," she said.

That is partly because a passage in the Bible's Book of Matthew links the ancient Israelite name to Jesus Christ, which Wattenberg said was seen in the past as too jarring an allusion for a baby name.

But rising on the list are a couple of less traditional, but more attention-grabbing names. Messiah was the fourth fastest-growing name for boys, rising to 387th in 2012 from the 633th spot in 2011, according to the federal agency.

King became the seventh fastest-growing boy's name, reaching the 256th most popular spot in 2012, compared with 389th the year before, the agency said.

"Bold names for boys are very hot right now," said Laura Wattenberg, creator of the website BabyNameWizard.com.

By Alex Dobuzinskis | Reuters â€" 53 minutes ago


By Alex Dobuzinskis

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Sophia tops the list of names for American baby girls for the second year in a row, while King and Messiah are becoming increasingly popular names for boys, the U.S. Social Security Administration said on Thursday.

Jacob has become a standby for boys' names, topping that category for the 14th straight year. Liam and Elizabeth broke into the Top 10 at No. 6 and No. 10 respectively, the SSA said in a statement.

The latest "Branomics Bra" follows earlier solar-powered, recycled and "husband-hunting" models but, like its predecessors, will not go on sale.

The "Branomics Bra" is a playful take on Prime Minister Shinzo Abe's "three-arrow" economic revival plan that combines monetary strategy aiming to reach 2 percent inflation in two years and pro-growth reforms.

It features a rising trendline and arrows as motifs and promises a 2 percent increase in volume with extra padding.

"We hope that, as the Japanese economy grows, we can also help bust sizes to get bigger," said Triumph spokeswoman Keiko Masuda.

Its benefits for Japan's policymakers were less clear. (Reporting by Ruairidh Villar; Writing by Tomasz Janowski; Editing by Elaine Lies and Paul Tait)

Reuters â€" Wed, May 8, 2013



Models present lingerie maker Triumph's new concept bra, the "Branomics Bra", during its unveiling in Tokyo May 8, 2013. REUTERS/Toru Hanai


TOKYO (Reuters) - The Japanese division of lingerie maker Triumph International unveiled on Wednesday an "Abenomics" bra, a special edition it says offers a "growth strategy" and a potential lift towards Japan's elusive inflation target.

Launches of Triumph's concept bras in Tokyo have become a regular event over the past quarter of a century and are an important publicity tool for 127-year-old, Swiss-headquartered company.

A chimp's soliloquy...

Quote from: islander on April 07, 2013, 11:51:21 PM
no doubt the culprits behind this all are two rival superpowers that sliced up a country and paved the way for it to fight against itself.

Hmm, naghawodhawod pud jud ang Kims...

Ang manunuli maoy tulion--kana kon wa pa mapudpod sa pamoriks...

Quote from: islander on May 09, 2013, 04:24:46 PM
ay, di tawon uy.  buhing dako tawon ka nga barbecue-hon.

Barbekyuha ang panit nga guntingon sa tuli...

The senatorial hopeful issued the statement after Vice Ganda mentioned her name when he was asked about his plans to enter politics.

In a press conference on Monday, Vice Ganda quipped he wants to run for president right away even without prior experience.

"'Yung wala kang background, pero mataas agad, parang 'yung mga pulitiko lang ngayon. Walang background, pero senador agad," he continued.

The 37-year old comedian was forced to name the candidate he was alluding to after he was pushed to expound his answer.

Vice Ganda eventually clarified his statement was just a mention of a fact, which should not be taken as a swipe against Binay.

She believes her experiences working in the background of public administration taught her enough knowledge she needed to know in order to become a better public servant.

The University of the Philippines (UP) graduate, who vowed to push programs for the welfare of young children and mothers in the Senate, noted that Vice Ganda’s statement did not offend her.

“Actually, hindi na surprise para sa akin yung sinabi nya kasi during 2010 elections, sinuportahan na niya ang kalaban ng kapatid ko (Makati Mayor Jun-jun Binay),” she added.

Insisting that her senatorial bid is part of a party decision, Binay urged critics to look into her willingness and commitment to serve rather than focusing on her last name.

By Rio Rose Ribaya | Yahoo! Southeast Asia Newsroom â€" 19 hours ago


Perhaps, Vice Ganda just doesn’t appreciate the job of personal assistants, so thinks Senate hopeful Nancy Binay.

In a phone interview, United Nationalist Alliance (UNA) candidate Nancy Binay is convinced that Vice Ganda does not have a high regard about her job, in particular, as a volunteer for her parents.

“We are in a free a country and everybody is entitled to his or her opinion. I respect it. Siguro, hindi niya lang talaga na-appreciate yung pagiging assistant ko sa nanay ko at sa tatay ko,” she told Yahoo! Southeast Asia.

Nancy did executive work without pay for her mother, Elenita, who served as Makati City mayor. Nancy did so too for her father when he won as vice president in 2010.

Vice Ganda posted a disclaimer that his endorsement is not for sale. "May matino akong trabaho. Nakaipon nako. At hinding hindi ko ibinibenta ang prinsipyo ko. Libre ang pagendorso ko sa taong pinaniniwalaan ko."

Meanwhile, an ecstatic Risa Hontiveros thanked Vice Ganda for his endorsement.

“Sobra sobra akong natutuwa. I wish to thank Vice Ganda for standing up against traditional politics. I have always admired his bravery and his intelligence, and I deeply respect the fact that he is standing up for his principles,” Hontiveros said in a statement.

Vice Ganda's endorsement could really mean a lot to Hontiveros, especially since the last stretch of campaign still leaves her "outside the border" of possible winners in the Senate race, according to the latest SWS surveys.

Earlier this week, Vice Ganda has been in hot water following his joke that he could run for president without prior experience - an indirect reference to Vice President Jejomar Binay's daughter Nancy Binay who guns for a Senate seat.

By Luigene Yanoria | Yahoo! Southeast Asia Newsroom â€" 11 hours ago





Vice Ganda gave his sought-after political endorsement to Senate aspirant Risa Hontiveros for free.

Addressing his over 3 million combined Twitter and Instagram followers, Vice Ganda made the announcement Thursday morning.

“Risa Hontiveros. Ito ang babaeng iboboto ko sa Senado. May karanasan at kakayahan sa gobyerno. Matapang dahil may ibubuga. May sariling pangalan at di umaasa sa sikat na apelyido,” he tweeted.

Another member of the Monkey Patrol...

Armor ni Darth Meowl...

Wa ba kaha masipyat ang operation, giango-ango na ra ba ang manunuli...

A view to eat diay...

He he, last will and testament sa di pa sungayon...

Quote from: BolBuhol on May 10, 2013, 12:08:00 AM

Sayang indi gid manogkita hang nawong, waay gid kita ideya kung sin-o gid hang turot nga ito haw...

Wanted translator: unsay Iningles nga title aning libroha?





Kadtong naay Tsaynis (o kaha Japanis) ansistri, tabangi ko palihog...

A word a day
Keeps the pigs at bay...

Hand crank on a pencil sharpener

A crank is an arm attached at right angles to a rotating shaft by which reciprocating motion is imparted to or received from the shaft. It is used to convert circular motion into reciprocating motion, or vice-versa. The arm may be a bent portion of the shaft, or a separate arm or disk attached to it. Attached to the end of the crank by a pivot is a rod, usually called a connecting rod. The end of the rod attached to the crank moves in a circular motion, while the other end is usually constrained to move in a linear sliding motion.

The term often refers to a human-powered crank which is used to manually turn an axle, as in a bicycle crankset or a brace and bit drill. In this case a person's arm or leg serves as the connecting rod, applying reciprocating force to the crank. There is usually a bar perpendicular to the other end of the arm, often with a freely rotatable handle or pedal attached. --Wiki

Quote from: chriswise on May 09, 2013, 07:51:00 PM
tag dugay ko katunga kay,,,nanginhas pako,,,

He he, hain kaha diayng baybayona imong gikinhasan, Bay Chris, wa man jud ta magkasugat...

Quote from: chriswise on May 09, 2013, 07:51:00 PM
he,h,ehe,he,he,,musta na bai,,wa ko kabawo tuli onon na diay ka nila,,,,he,he,he,he,,,,

He he, naunsa na bitaw ning pagkabutanga. Ako na man hinuoy hadlokon...

Medyo yawan-on bitaw og dating...

Way medyo singkit diha?

Agoi, unsa na lang kahang trabahoa ang masudlan...

Quote from: islander on May 09, 2013, 04:55:36 PM
how could you, hubag?  i cannot sit down with this refreshed memory of my orange tabby cat melchor who had died young with kidney troubles.  you've brought him back, dali and all, huhuhu. 

Sorry! Didn't know you had an orange tabby. There, there, let me make it up to you...

He he, bitaw, padayon lang...

Quote from: hubag bohol on May 09, 2013, 07:13:36 PM
"I'm not (disappointed) because at least I can still drink for three days," the poll body chief added. (Kathrina Alvarez/Sunnex)

He he, that's the spirit...

Thursday, May 9, 2013


MANILA -- The Commission on Elections (Comelec) on Thursday said it will withdraw its resolution on extended liquor ban after the Supreme Court issued a temporary restraining order (TRO) against it.

The extended liquor ban under Comelec Resolution 9582 would have started Thursday. With the TRO, however, the liquor ban will take effect from 12:01 a.m. of Sunday to 11:59 p.m. of Monday, Election Day.

"We are withdrawing our previous resolution. We will not file any comment anymore. We will accept na two days na lang," Comelec chairman Sixto Brillantes Jr. said in an ambush interview.

The poll body was required by the SC to file its comment on the TRO not later than 5 p.m. Thursday.

Brillantes said it was the Metropolitan Manila Development Authority (MMDA) who sought an extended liquor ban, originally proposed to last for two months.

"I'm not (disappointed) because at least I can still drink for three days," the poll body chief added. (Kathrina Alvarez/Sunnex)

Hmm, kisa kahay TB member nga interesado...

Quote from: islander on May 09, 2013, 05:00:10 PM
don't forget the full metal mask...

...ug ang puti nga itlog...

     There was another period of silence.

     "Well," said Wilson at last, slowly, "I s'pose it's all off now."

     "It's all off if you say so, Scratchy. You know I didn't make the trouble." Potter lifted his valise.

     "Well, I 'low it's off, Jack," said Wilson. He was looking at the ground. "Married!" He was not a student of chivalry; it was merely that in the presence of this foreign condition he was a simple child of the earlier plains. He picked up his starboard revolver, and placing both weapons in their holsters, he went away. His feet made funnel-shaped tracks in the heavy sand.

     So much enforced reasoning had told on Wilson's rage. He was calmer. "If you ain't got a gun, why ain't you got a gun?" he sneered. "Been to Sunday-school?"

     "I ain't got a gun because I've just come from San Anton' with my wife. I'm married," said Potter. "And if I'd thought there was going to be any galoots like you prowling around when I brought my wife home, I'd had a gun, and don't you forget it."

     "Married!" said Scratchy, not at all comprehending.

     "Yes, married. I'm married," said Potter distinctly.

     "Married?" said Scratchy. Seemingly for the first time he saw the drooping, drowning woman at the other man's side. "No!" he said. He was like a creature allowed a glimpse of another world. He moved a pace backward, and his arm with the revolver dropped to his side. "Is this the lady?" he asked.

     "Yes, this is the lady," answered Potter.

     Potter looked at his enemy. "I ain't got a gun on me, Scratchy," he said. "Honest, I ain't." He was stiffening and steadying, but yet somewhere at the back of his mind a vision of the Pullman floated, the sea-green figured velvet, the shining brass, silver, and glass, the wood that gleamed as darkly brilliant as the surface of a pool of oil - all the glory of the marriage, the environment of the new estate. "You know I fight when it comes to fighting, Scratchy Wilson, but I ain't got a gun on me. You'll have to do all the shootin' yourself."

     His enemy's face went livid. He stepped forward and lashed his weapon to and fro before Potter's chest. "Don't you tell me you ain't got no gun on you, you whelp. Don't tell me no lie like that. There ain't a man in Texas ever seen you without no gun. Don't take me for no kid." His eyes blazed with light, and his throat worked like a pump.

     "I ain't takin' you for no kid," answered Potter. His heels had not moved an inch backward. "I'm takin' you for a damn fool. I tell you I ain't got a gun, and I ain't. If you're goin' to shoot me up, you better begin now. You'll never get a chance like this again."

     There was silence. Potter's mouth seemed to be merely a grave for his tongue. He exhibited an instinct to at once loosen his arm from the woman's grip, and he dropped the bag to the sand. As for the bride, her face had gone as yellow as old cloth. She was a slave to hideous rites gazing at the apparitional snake.

     The two men faced each other at a distance of three paces. He of the revolver smiled with a new and quiet ferocity.

     "Tried to sneak up on me," he said. "Tried to sneak up on me!" His eyes grew more baleful. As Potter made a slight movement, the man thrust his revolver venomously forward. "No, don't you do it, Jack Potter. Don't you move a finger toward a gun just yet. Don't you move an eyelash. The time has come for me to settle with you, and I'm goin' to do it my own way and loaf along with no interferin'. So if you don't want a gun bent on you, just mind what I tell you."

IV

Potter and his bride walked sheepishly and with speed. Sometimes they laughed together shamefacedly and low.

     "Next corner, dear," he said finally.

     They put forth the efforts of a pair walking bowed against a strong wind. Potter was about to raise a finger to point the first appearance of the new home when, as they circled the corner, they came face to face with a man in a maroon-colored shirt who was feverishly pushing cartridges into a large revolver. Upon the instant the man dropped his revolver to the ground, and, like lightning, whipped another from its holster. The second weapon was aimed at the bridegroom's chest.

     When he arrived at it, Potter's house presented the same still front as had the other adobes. Taking up a strategic position, the man howled a challenge. But this house regarded him as might a great stone god. It gave no sign. After a decent wait, the man howled further challenges, mingling with them wonderful epithets.

     Presently there came the spectacle of a man churning himself into deepest rage over the immobility of a house. He fumed at it as the winter wind attacks a prairie cabin in the North. To the distance there should have gone the sound of a tumult like the fighting of 200 Mexicans. As necessity bade him, he paused for breath or to reload his revolvers.

     Ultimately the man was attracted by the closed door of the "Weary Gentleman" saloon. He went to it, and hammering with a revolver, demanded drink.

     The door remaining imperturbable, he picked a bit of paper from the walk and nailed it to the framework with a knife. He then turned his back contemptuously upon this popular resort, and walking to the opposite side of the street, and spinning there on his heel quickly and lithely, fired at the bit of paper. He missed it by a half inch. He swore at himself, and went away. Later, he comfortably fusilladed the windows of his most intimate friend. The man was playing with this town. It was a toy for him.

     But still there was no offer of fight. The name of Jack Potter, his ancient antagonist, entered his mind, and he concluded that it would be a glad thing if he should go to Potter's house and by bombardment induce him to come out and fight. He moved in the direction of his desire, chanting Apache scalp-music.

     There was no offer of fight; no offer of fight. The man called to the sky. There were no attractions. He bellowed and fumed and swayed his revolvers here and everywhere.

     The dog of the barkeeper of the "Weary Gentleman" saloon had not appreciated the advance of events. He yet lay dozing in front of his master's door. At sight of the dog, the man paused and raised his revolver humorously. At sight of the man, the dog sprang up and walked diagonally away, with a sullen head, and growling. The man yelled, and the dog broke into a gallop. As it was about to enter an alley, there was a loud noise, a whistling, and something spat the ground directly before it. The dog screamed, and, wheeling in terror, galloped headlong in a new direction. Again there was a noise, a whistling, and sand was kicked viciously before it. Fear-stricken, the dog turned and flurried like an animal in a pen. The man stood laughing, his weapons at his hips.

III

A man in a maroon-colored flannel shirt, which had been purchased for purposes of decoration and made, principally, by some Jewish women on the east side of New York, rounded a corner and walked into the middle of the main street of Yellow Sky. In either hand the man held a long, heavy, blue-black revolver. Often he yelled, and these cries rang through a semblance of a deserted village, shrilly flying over the roofs in a volume that seemed to have no relation to the ordinary vocal strength of a man. It was as if the surrounding stillness formed the arch of a tomb over him. These cries of ferocious challenge rang against walls of silence. And his boots had red tops with gilded imprints, of the kind beloved in winter by little sledding boys on the hillsides of New England.

     The man's face flamed in a rage begot of whisky. His eyes, rolling and yet keen for ambush, hunted the still doorways and windows. He walked with the creeping movement of the midnight cat. As it occurred to him, he roared menacing information. The long revolvers in his hands were as easy as straws; they were moved with an electric swiftness. The little fingers of each hand played sometimes in a musician's way. Plain from the low collar of the shirt, the cords of his neck straightened and sank, straightened and sank, as passion moved him. The only sounds were his terrible invitations. The calm adobes preserved their demeanor at the passing of this small thing in the middle of the street.

     There were periods of stillness. "I wish Jack Potter was back from San Anton'," said the barkeeper. "He shot Wilson up once - in the leg - and he would sail in and pull out the kinks in this thing."

     Presently they heard from a distance the sound of a shot, followed by three wild yowls. It instantly removed a bond from the men in the darkened saloon. There was a shuffling of feet. They looked at each other. "Here he comes," they said.

     "You better come with me back of the bar."

     "No, thanks," said the drummer, perspiring. "I'd rather be where I can make a break for the back door."

     Whereupon the man of bottles made a kindly but peremptory gesture. The drummer obeyed it, and finding himself seated on a box with his head below the level of the bar, balm was laid upon his soul at sight of various zinc and copper fittings that bore a resemblance to armor-plate. The barkeeper took a seat comfortably upon an adjacent box.

     "You see," he whispered, "this here Scratchy Wilson is a wonder with a gun - a perfect wonder - and when he goes on the war trail, we hunt our holes - naturally. He's about the last one of the old gang that used to hang out along the river here. He's a terror when he's drunk. When he's sober he's all right - kind of simple - wouldn't hurt a fly - nicest fellow in town. But when he's drunk - whoo!"

     "Well, who is he? What's he got to do with it?"

     "Oh, he's the town marshal. He goes out and fights Scratchy when he gets on one of these tears."

     "Wow," said the drummer, mopping his brow. "Nice job he's got."

     The voices had toned away to mere whisperings. The drummer wished to ask further questions which were born of an increasing anxiety and bewilderment; but when he attempted them, the men merely looked at him in irritation and motioned him to remain silent. A tense waiting hush was upon them. In the deep shadows of the room their eyes shone as they listened for sounds from the street. One man made three gestures at the barkeeper, and the latter, moving like a ghost, handed him a glass and a bottle. The man poured a full glass of whisky, and set down the bottle noiselessly. He gulped the whisky in a swallow, and turned again toward the door in immovable silence. The drummer saw that the barkeeper, without a sound, had taken a Winchester from beneath the bar. Later he saw this individual beckoning to him, so he tiptoed across the room.

     Thereafter the drummer kept a strict eye upon the door. The time had not yet been called for him to hug the floor, but, as a minor precaution, he sidled near to the wall. "Will he kill anybody?" he said again.

     The men laughed low and scornfully at the question.

     "He's out to shoot, and he's out for trouble. Don't see any good in experimentin' with him."

     "But what do you do in a case like this? What do you do?"

     A man responded: "Why, he and Jack Potter -- "

     "But," in chorus, the other men interrupted, "Jack Potter's in San Anton'."

     The young man who had warned them waved his hand. "Oh, there'll be a fight fast enough if anyone wants it. Anybody can get a fight out there in the street. There's a fight just waiting."

     The drummer seemed to be swayed between the interest of a foreigner and a perception of personal danger.

     "What did you say his name was?" he asked.

     "Scratchy Wilson," they answered in chorus.

     "And will he kill anybody? What are you going to do? Does this happen often? Does he rampage around like this once a week or so? Can he break in that door?"

     "No, he can't break down that door," replied the barkeeper. "He's tried it three times. But when he comes you'd better lay down on the floor, stranger. He's dead sure to shoot at it, and a bullet may come through."

     But the information had made such an obvious cleft in every skull in the room that the drummer was obliged to see its importance. All had become instantly solemn. "Say," said he, mystified, "what is this?" His three companions made the introductory gesture of eloquent speech, but the young man at the door forestalled them.

     "It means, my friend," he answered, as he came into the saloon, "that for the next two hours this town won't be a health resort."

     The barkeeper went to the door and locked and barred it. Reaching out of the window, he pulled in heavy wooden shutters and barred them. Immediately a solemn, chapel-like gloom was upon the place. The drummer was looking from one to another.

     "But, say," he cried, "what is this, anyhow? You don't mean there is going to be a gun-fight?"

     "Don't know whether there'll be a fight or not," answered one man grimly. "But there'll be some shootin' - some good shootin'."

     Save for the busy drummer and his companions in the saloon, Yellow Sky was dozing. The new-comer leaned gracefully upon the bar, and recited many tales with the confidence of a bard who has come upon a new field.

     " -- and at the moment that the old man fell down stairs with the bureau in his arms, the old woman was coming up with two scuttles of coal, and, of course -- "

     The drummer's tale was interrupted by a young man who suddenly appeared in the open door. He cried: "Scratchy Wilson's drunk, and has turned loose with both hands." The two Mexicans at once set down their glasses and faded out of the rear entrance of the saloon.

     The drummer, innocent and jocular, answered: "All right, old man. S'pose he has. Come in and have a drink, anyhow."

II

The California Express on the Southern Railway was due at Yellow Sky in twenty-one minutes. There were six men at the bar of the "Weary Gentleman" saloon. One was a drummer who talked a great deal and rapidly; three were Texans who did not care to talk at that time; and two were Mexican sheep-herders who did not talk as a general practice in the "Weary Gentleman" saloon. The barkeeper's dog lay on the board walk that crossed in front of the door. His head was on his paws, and he glanced drowsily here and there with the constant vigilance of a dog that is kicked on occasion. Across the sandy street were some vivid green grass plots, so wonderful in appearance amid the sands that burned near them in a blazing sun that they caused a doubt in the mind. They exactly resembled the grass mats used to represent lawns on the stage. At the cooler end of the railway station a man without a coat sat in a tilted chair and smoked his pipe. The fresh-cut bank of the Rio Grande circled near the town, and there could be seen beyond it a great, plum-colored plain of mesquite.

     "They have to take water here," said Potter, from a constricted throat and in mournful cadence, as one announcing death. Before the train stopped, his eye had swept the length of the platform, and he was glad and astonished to see there was none upon it but the station-agent, who, with a slightly hurried and anxious air, was walking toward the water-tanks. When the train had halted, the porter alighted first and placed in position a little temporary step.

     "Come on, girl," said Potter hoarsely. As he helped her down they each laughed on a false note. He took the bag from the negro, and bade his wife cling to his arm. As they slunk rapidly away, his hang-dog glance perceived that they were unloading the two trunks, and also that the station-agent far ahead near the baggage-car had turned and was running toward him, making gestures. He laughed, and groaned as he laughed, when he noted the first effect of his marital bliss upon Yellow Sky. He gripped his wife's arm firmly to his side, and they fled. Behind them the porter stood chuckling fatuously.

     A sense of mutual guilt invaded their minds and developed a finer tenderness. They looked at each other with eyes softly aglow. But Potter often laughed the same nervous laugh. The flush upon the bride's face seemed quite permanent.

     The traitor to the feelings of Yellow Sky narrowly watched the speeding landscape. "We're nearly there," he said.

     Presently the porter came and announced the proximity of Potter's home. He held a brush in his hand and, with all his airy superiority gone, he brushed Potter's new clothes as the latter slowly turned this way and that way. Potter fumbled out a coin and gave it to the porter, as he had seen others do. It was a heavy and muscle-bound business, as that of a man shoeing his first horse.

     The porter took their bag, and as the train began to slow they moved forward to the hooded platform of the car. Presently the two engines and their long string of coaches rushed into the station of Yellow Sky.

     Yellow Sky had a kind of brass band, which played painfully, to the delight of the populace. He laughed without heart as he thought of it. If the citizens could dream of his prospective arrival with his bride, they would parade the band at the station and escort them, amid cheers and laughing congratulations, to his adobe home.

     He resolved that he would use all the devices of speed and plains-craft in making the journey from the station to his house. Once within that safe citadel he could issue some sort of a vocal bulletin, and then not go among the citizens until they had time to wear off a little of their enthusiasm.

     The bride looked anxiously at him. "What's worrying you, Jack?"

     He laughed again. "I'm not worrying, girl. I'm only thinking of Yellow Sky."

     She flushed in comprehension.

     Of course, people in Yellow Sky married as it pleased them, in accordance with a general custom; but such was Potter's thought of his duty to his friends, or of their idea of his duty, or of an unspoken form which does not control men in these matters, that he felt he was heinous. He had committed an extraordinary crime. Face to face with this girl in San Antonio, and spurred by his sharp impulse, he had gone headlong over all the social hedges. At San Antonio he was like a man hidden in the dark. A knife to sever any friendly duty, any form, was easy to his hand in that remote city. But the hour of Yellow Sky, the hour of daylight, was approaching.

     He knew full well that his marriage was an important thing to his town. It could only be exceeded by the burning of the new hotel. His friends could not forgive him. Frequently he had reflected on the advisability of telling them by telegraph, but a new cowardice had been upon him. He feared to do it. And now the train was hurrying him toward a scene of amazement, glee, and reproach. He glanced out of the window at the line of haze swinging slowly in towards the train.