not trespass on or restrict the rights of others. They were not
analytic in temperament, neither were they moralists. He was not a
menace to society, because society had superb defenses. So they
vaguely recognized his many poor qualities and clearly saw his few
good ones. He could shoot, when permitted, with the best; no horse,
however refractory, had ever been known to throw him; he was an adept
at following the trails left by rustlers, and that was an asset; he
became of value to the community; he was an economic factor.

His ability to consume liquor with indifferent effects raised him another
notch in their estimation. He was not always talking when some one
else wished to-another count. There remained about him that stoical
indifference to the petty; that observant nonchalance of the Indian;
and there was a suggestion, faint, it was true, of a dignity common to
chieftains. He was a log of grave deference which tossed on their sea
of mischievous hilarity.

He wore a pair of corduroy trousers, known to the care-free as
"pants," which were held together by numerous patches of what had once
been brilliantly colored calico. A pair of suspenders, torn into two
separate straps, made a belt for himself and a collar for his dog. The
trousers had probably been secured during a fit of absent-mindedness
on his part when their former owner had not been looking. Tucked at
intervals in the top of the corduroys (the exceptions making
convenient shelves for alkali dust) was what at one time had been a
stiff-bosomed shirt. This was open down the front and back, the weight
of the trousers on the belt holding it firmly on the square shoulders
of the wearer, thus precluding the necessity of collar buttons. A pair
of moccasins, beautifully worked with wampum, protected his feet from
the onslaughts of cacti and the inquisitive and pugnacious sand flies;