vote, and Bill knocked him down. Lord!" added my friend, meditatively,
"the way that man fell!" "Well," struck in Bill Jones, "if he hadn't
fell I'd have walked round behind him to see what was propping him up!"

In the days when I lived on the ranch I usually spent most of the
winter in the East, and when I returned in the early spring I was always
interested in finding out what had happened since my departure. On one
occasion I was met by Bill Jones and Sylvane Ferris, and in the course
of our conversation they mentioned "the lunatic." This led to a question
on my part, and Sylvane Ferris began the story: "Well, you see, he was
on a train and he shot the newsboy. At first they weren't going to do
anything to him, for they thought he just had it in for the newsboy. But
then somebody said, 'Why, he's plumb crazy, and he's liable to shoot any
of us!' and then they threw him off the train. It was here at Medora,
and they asked if anybody would take care of him, and Bill Jones said he
would, because he was the sheriff and the jail had two rooms, and he was
living in one and would put the lunatic in the other." Here Bill Jones
interrupted: "Yes, and more fool me! I wouldn't take charge of another
lunatic if the whole county asked me. Why" (with the air of a man
announcing an astounding discovery), "that lunatic didn't have his right
senses! He wouldn't eat, till me and Snyder got him down on the shavings
and made him eat." Snyder was a huge, happy-go-lucky, kind-hearted
Pennsylvania Dutchman, and was Bill Jones's chief deputy. Bill
continued: "You know, Snyder's soft-hearted, he is. Well, he'd think
that lunatic looked peaked, and he'd take him out for an airing. Then
the boys would get joshing him as to how much start he could give him
over the prairie and catch him again." Apparently the amount of the
start given the lunatic depended upon the amount of the bet to which the
joshing led up. I asked Bill what he would have done if Snyder hadn't
caught the lunatic. This was evidently a new idea, and he responded that