getting in the way, declaring that Red was a "Heap good un," and that
he didn't mean to do it.

The outfit of the Bar-20 was, perhaps, the most famous of all from
Canada to the Rio Grande. The foreman, Buck Peters, controlled a crowd
of men (who had all the instincts of boys) that had shown no quarter
to many rustlers, and who, while always carefree and easy-going (even
fighting with great good humor and carelessness), had established the
reputation of being the most reckless gang of daredevil gun-fighters
that ever pounded leather. Crooked gaming houses, from El Paso to
Cheyenne and from Phoenix to Leavenworth, unanimously and
enthusiastically damned them from their boots to their sombreros, and
the sheriffs and marshals of many localities had received from their
hands most timely assistance-and some trouble. Wiry, indomitable,
boyish and generous, they were splendid examples of virile manhood;
and, surrounded as they were with great dangers and a unique
civilization, they should not, in justice, be judged by opinions born
of the commonplace.

They were real cowboys, which means, public opinion to the contrary
notwithstanding, that they were not lawless, nor drunken, shooting
bullies who held life cheaply, as their kin has been unjustly
pictured; but while these men were naturally peaceable they had to
continually rub elbows with men who were not. Gamblers, criminals,
bullies and the riffraff that fled from the protected East had drifted
among them in great numbers, and it was this class that caused the
trouble.

The hardworking "cow-punchers" lived according to the law of
the land, and they obeyed that greatest of all laws, that of self-