“An’ now, ladies an’ gents, you can transfer an’ go on when the train pulls in on t’other side, or yon can stay an’ enjoy yourselves amongst us Wolf River folks an’ go on tomorrow when the trussle gits fixed——­”

“Ye-e-e-e-o-o-w!  W-h-e-e-e-e.”

Bang, bang, bang!  Bang, bang, bang!  A chorus of wild yells, a fusillade of shots, and the thud of horses’ hoofs close at hand drew all eyes toward the group of riders that, spreading fan-like over the flat that lay between the town and the railway, approached at top speed.

“The cowboys is comin’!  Them’s the Circle J,” cried the Mayor.  “Things’ll lively up a bit when the T U an’ the I X an’ the Bear Paw Pool boys gits in.”  The cowboys were close, now, and the laughing, cheering passengers surged back as the horses swerved at full speed with the stirrups of their riders almost brushing the outermost rank of the crowd.  A long thin rope shot out, a loop settled gently about the shoulders of the Mayor of Wolf River, and a cowhorse stopped so abruptly that a cloud of alkali dust spurted up and settled in a grey powder over the clothing of the assembled passengers.

“Come on, Slim, an’ give these folks a chance to get their second wind while you let a little licker into that system of yours.”

The Mayor grinned; “Tex Benton, hain’t you had no bringin’ up whatever?  That was a pretty throw but it’s onrespectable, no mor’n what it’s respectable to call the Mayor of a place by his first name to a public meetin’.”

“I plumb ferget myself, your Honour,” laughed the cowpuncher as he coiled his rope.  “Fact is, I learnt to rope mares back in Texas, an’ I ain’t——­”

“Yip-e-i-e!”

“Ropin’ mares!” The cowboys broke into a coyote chorus that drowned the laughter of the crowd.

“The drinks is on me!” sputtered the Mayor, when he was able to make himself heard.  “Jest you boys high-tail over to the Long Horn an’ I’ll be along d’rectly.”  He turned once more to the crowd of passengers.

“Come on, gents, an’ have a drink on me.  An’ the ladies is welcome, too.  Wolf River is broad in her idees.  We hain’t got no sexual restrictions, an’ a lady’s got as good a right to front a bar an’ nominate her licker as what a man has.”

Standing beside Endicott upon the edge of the crowd Alice Marcum had enjoyed herself hugely.  The little wooden town with its high fenced cattle corrals, and its row of one story buildings that faced the alkali flat had interested her from the first, and she had joined with hearty goodwill in the rounds of applause that at frequent intervals had interrupted the speech of the little town’s Mayor.  A born horsewoman, she had watched with breathless admiration the onrush of the loose-rein riders—­the graceful swaying of their bodies, and the flapping of soft hat brims, as their horses approached with a thunder of pounding hoofs.  Her eyes had sparkled at the reckless swerving of the horses when it seemed that the next moment the back-surging crowd would be trampled into the ground.  She had wondered at the precision with which the Texan’s loop fell; and had joined heartily in the laughter that greeted the ludicrous and red-faced indignation with which a fat woman had crawled from beneath a coach whither she had sought refuge from the onrush of thundering hoofs.