accounts were always paid. Mike was a deservedly popular citizen in
Salt Lick, and might easily have been elected to the United States
Congress, if he had dared to go east again. But, as he himself said, he
was out of politics.

It was the pleasant custom of the cowboys at Buller's ranch to come
into Salt Lick on pay-days and close up the town. These periodical
visits did little harm to any one, and seemed to be productive of much
amusement for the boys. They rode at full gallop through the one street
of the place like a troop of cavalry, yelling at the top of their
voices and brandishing their weapons.

The first raid through Salt Lick was merely a warning, and all
peaceably inclined inhabitants took it as such, retiring forthwith to
the seclusion of their houses. On their return trip the boys winged or
lamed, with unerring aim, any one found in the street. They seldom
killed a wayfarer; if a fatality ensued it was usually the result of
accident, and much to the regret of the boys, who always apologised
handsomely to the surviving relatives, which expression of regret was
generally received in the amicable spirit with which it was tendered.
There was none of the rancour of the vendetta in these little
encounters; if a man happened to be blotted out, it was his ill luck,
that was all, and there was rarely any thought of reprisal.

This perhaps was largely due to the fact that the community was a
shifting one, and few had any near relatives about them, for, although
the victim might have friends, they seldom held him in such esteem as
to be willing to take up his quarrel when there was a bullet hole
through him. Relatives, however, are often more difficult to deal with
than are friends, in cases of sudden death, and this fact was