“Come over to the office ’til I get what I need and I’ll bring him around all right!” broke in the doctor and hurried away, with the cowpuncher close at his heels.

CHAPTER V

ON THE FLAT

As Mayor Maloney had said, every rancher and nester within forty miles of Wolf River had driven into town for the celebration.  Farm wagons, spring wagons, and automobiles were drawn wheel to wheel upon both sides of the flat.  From the vehicles women and children in holiday attire applauded the feats of the cowboys with cheers and the waving of handkerchiefs, while the men stood about in groups and watched with apparent indifference as they talked of fences and flumes.

From the top of the lumber piles, and the long low roof of the wool warehouse, the train passengers entered into the spirit of the fun gasping in horror at some seemingly miraculous escape from death beneath the pounding hoofs of the cow-horses, only to cheer themselves hoarse when they saw that the apparent misadventure had been purposely staged for their benefit.

Races were won by noses.  Hats, handkerchiefs, and even coins were snatched from the ground by riders who hung head and shoulder below their horses’ bellies.  Mounts were exchanged at full gallop.  Playing cards were pierced by the bullets of riders who dashed past them at full speed.  And men emptied their guns in the space of seconds without missing a shot.

In each event the gaudily caparisoned Jack Purdy was at the fore, either winning or crowding the winner to his supremest effort.  And it was Purdy who furnished the real thrill of the shooting tournament when, with a six-shooter in each hand, he jumped an empty tomato can into the air at fifteen paces by sending a bullet into the ground beneath its base and pierced it with a bullet from each gun before it returned to earth.

A half-dozen times he managed to slip over for a few words with Alice Marcum—­a bit of explanation of a coming event, or a comment upon the fine points of a completed one, until unconsciously the girl’s interest centred upon the dashing figure to an extent that she found herself following his every movement, straining forward when his supremacy hung in the balance, keenly disappointed when another wrested the honours from him, and jubilantly exultant at his victories.  So engrossed was she in fallowing the fortunes of her knight that she failed to notice the growing disapproval of Endicott, who sat frowning and silent by her side.  Failed, also, to notice that as Purdy’s attentions waxed more obvious she herself became the object of many a glance, and lip to ear observation from the occupants of the close-drawn vehicles.

It was while Mayor Maloney was announcing the roping contest and explaining that the man who “roped, throw’d, an’ hog-tied” his steer in the least number of seconds, would be the winner, that the girl’s thoughts turned to the cowpuncher who earlier in the day had so skilfully demonstrated his ability with the lariat.