te Buckner. "It's on me
to-day," he continued, shoving whiskey along the bar; and I saw he was
a little drunk. "I'm setting 'em up," he continued. "Why? Why,
because"--he looked around for appreciation--"because it's not every
son-of-a-gun in Wyoming gets pardoned by Governor Barker. I'm important,
I want you to understand," he pursued to the cold bystanders. "They'll
have a picture of me in the Cheyenne paper. 'The Bronco-buster of Powder
River!' They can't do without me! If any son-of-a-gun here thinks
he knows how to break a colt," he shouted, looking around with the
irrelevant fierceness of drink--and then his challenge ebbed vacantly in
laughter as the subject blurred in his mind. "You're not drinking, Lin,"
said he.

"No," said McLean, "I'm not."

"Sworn off again? Well, water never did agree with me."

"Yu' never gave water the chance," retorted the cow-puncher, and we left
the place without my having drunk his health.

It was a grim beginning, this brag attempt to laugh his reputation down,
with the jail door scarce closed behind him. "Folks are not going to
like that," said Lin, as we walked across the bridge again to the hotel.
Yet the sister, left alone here after an hour at most of her brother's
company, would pretend it was a matter of course. Nate was not in, she
told us at once. He had business to attend to and friends to see he must
get back to Riverside and down in that country where colts were waiting
for him. He was the only one the E. K. outfit would allow to handle
their young stock. Did we know that? And she was going to stay with a
Mrs. Pierce down there for a while, near where Nate would be working.
All this she told us; but when he did not return to dine with her
on this first day, I think she found it hard to sustain her wilful
cheeriness. Lin offered to take her driving to see the military post and
dress parade at retreat, and Cloud's Peak, and Buffalo's various sights;
but she made excuses and retired to her room. Nate, however, was at tea,
shaven clean, with good clothes, and well conducted. His tone and manner
to Jessamine were confidential and caressing, and offended Mr. McLean,
so that I observed to him that it was scarcely reasonable to be jealous.

"Oh, no jealousy!" said he. "But he comes in and kisses her, and
he kisses her good-night, and us strangers looking on! It's such
oncontrollable affection, yu' see, after never writing for five years. I
expect she must have some of her s