even Billy joined in. The sight that met their eyes was typical of the
men and the mood and the place. Leaning along the walls, lounging on
the table and straddling chairs with their forearms crossed on the
backs were nine cowboys, ranging from old twenty to young fifty in
years, and all were shouting the song and keeping time with their
hands and feet.

In the center of the room was a large man dancing a
fair buck-and-wing to the time so uproariously set by his companions.
Hatless, neck-kerchief loose, holsters flapping, chaps rippling out
and close, spurs clinking and perspiration streaming from his tanned
face, danced Bigfoot Baker as though his life depended on speed and
noise. Bottles shook and the air was fogged with smoke and dust.
Suddenly, his belt slipping and letting his chaps fall around his
ankles, he tripped and sat down heavily. Gasping for breath, he held
out his hand and received a huge plug of tobacco, for Bigfoot had won
a contest.

Shouts of greeting were hurled at the newcomers and many questions
were fired at them regarding "th' latest from th' Hills." Waffles made
a rush for Hopalong, but fell over Big-foot's feet and all three were
piled up in a heap. All were beaming with good nature, for they were
as so many school boys playing truant. Prosaic cow-punching was
relegated to the rear and they looked eagerly forward to their several
missions. Frenchy told of the barb-wire fence war and of the new regu-
lations of "Smith of Buffalo" regarding cow-punchers' guns, and from
the caustic remarks explosively given it was plain to be seen what a
wire fence could expect, should one be met with, and there were many
imaginary Smiths put hors de combat.