Hank was pretty new in town. In fact he`d only been here for a week. Born and reared near the east coast he`d developed itchy feet, had hitched a lift with a wagon train on the Oregon trail, and now, after further travels, here he was in Arizona. Not only that, he had been lucky enough to get a job the day after he arrived, and he was now esconced, wearing a white apron, behind the bar in the O.K. Saloon. He looked around him with satisfaction. In the corner old Bert, the piano player, was quietly picking his way through the Lily Langtry Songsheet ready for Diamond Lil`s act tonight. Three of the tables were occupied by the town`s storekeepers playing draw poker. One of the girls was taking her latest customer up the stairs, and there was a row of rowdy cowpunchers drinking at the bar.A perfectly Saturday evening, with Hank left in charge, and any time now the Sheriff would call in and....
At that moment his reverie was rudely interrupted as the batwing doors were flung open and old Jed the livery man burst in and shouted "BIG JOHN`S A-COMING", then ran out again. Old Bert struck a wrong chord and was off his stool like a scalded cat. The poker players threw down their hands and fled without even bothering to gather up the pot. Three girls and their customers came tumbling down the stairs in various states of undress, and the cowpunchers were already on their horses and galloping down the street. Hank stood for a few minutes wondering what was going on, then dropping his barcloth on the bar he walked round the end of the bar to the front of the saloon and out of the door in time to see the last of the wagons, packed with women and children, disappearing down the trail out of town in a large cloud of dust. He was the only one left in town.
Now Hank was a responsible sort of guy. His boss had left him in charge of the saloon for the evening and he wasn`t going to run away and leave his post without a very good reason. It was a pity they hadn`t given him the chance to ask who Big John was, but life on the New York streets is tough for a kid, and Hank didn`t scare that easily. So he stood on the sidewalk outside the saloon waiting.
After half an hour or so he saw a cloud of dust on the trail coming towards town. As it got closer he saw there were two bullocks being ridden by a huge man who had one leg thrown over each bullock and even so his feet nearly reached the ground. As he reached the saloon the man jumped off his steeds and onto the sidewalk. He was really BIG - at least 9 feet tall - and towered over Hank. "You the bartender?" he roared. Hank nodded dumbly. The man grabbed him by the collar, pushed him through the doors, hurled him towards the bar. Then he advanced across the floor, which creaked and groaned at every step, and roared "WHISKY". With shaking hands Hank reached down a glass, filled it with Redeye and handed it across the bar. The man swept the glass away with a fist the size of a bucket and roared "I SAID WHISKY". With even shakier hands Hank handed him the bottle. The giant promptly hurled it back across the bar, where it shattered the big mirror. Then he reached across the bar, picked Hank up with one hand, shook him until his teeth rattled, and roared "I SAID WHISKY!!!!". By now almost petrified with terror, Hank managed to wrestle a small barrel of whisky from under the bar and hefted it up on top. The giant grabbed it with both hands, smashed it into two halves over his upraised knee, then raised each half in turn, draining each in one quick gulp. Then he turned, and without further word, stamped across the creaking, groaning floor towards the doors. Plucking up courage, Hank enquired tremulously "Are you going now sir?. The giant turned and glared at him "Course I am....
Ain`t you heeard......
BIG JOHN`S A-COMING!"
