his hours and expand himself. He will make a deal of noise, drink a
deal of whiskey, acquire a deal of what he terms "action"; but he
harms nobody, and, in a town toughened to his racket and which needs
and gets his money, disturbs nobody.

"Let him whoop it up; he's paying for it, ain't he?" will be the
prompt local retort to any inquiry as to why he is thus permitted to
disport.

So long as the cowboy observes the etiquette of the town, he will not
be molested or "called down" by marshal or sheriff or citizen. There
are four things your cowboy must not do. He must not insult a woman;
he must not shoot his pistol in a store or bar-room; he must not ride
his pony into those places of resort; and as a last proposal he must
not ride his pony on the sidewalks. Shooting or riding into
bar-rooms is reckoned as dangerous; riding on the sidewalk comes more
under the head of insult, and is popularly regarded as a taunting
defiance of the town marshal. On such occasions the marshal never
fails to respond, and the cowboy is called upon to surrender. If he
complies, which to the credit of his horse-sense he commonly does, he
is led into brief captivity to be made loose when cooled. Does he
resist arrest, there is an explosive rattle of six shooters, a mad
scattering of the careful citizenry out of lines of fire, and a
cowboy or marshal is added to the host beyond. At the close of the
festival, if the marshal still lives he is congratulated; if the
cowboy survives he is lynched; if both fall, they are buried with the
honours of frontier war; while whatever the event, the communal
ripple is but slight and only of the moment, following which the
currents of Western existence sweep easily and calmly onward as
before.