ss_ agreed, but
replied that the country through which it would have to go was
impassable even for an Indian on a pony. The _Cowboy_ declared that
"the Dickinson road strikes gumbo from the start"; and the _Press_
with fine scorn answered, "This causes a smile to percolate our
features. From our experience in the Bad Lands we know that after a
slight rain a man can carry a whole quarter-section off on his boots,
and we don't wear number twelves either." The _Cowboy_ insisted that
the Dickinson route "is at best a poor one and at certain seasons
impassable." The _Press_ scorned to reply to this charge, remarking
merely from the heights of its own eight months' seniority, "The
_Cowboy_ is young, and like a boy, going through a graveyard at night,
is whistling to keep up courage."

There the debate for the moment rested. But Dickinson, which
unquestionably had the better route, lacked a Marquis. While the
_Press_ was printing the statements of army experts in support of its
claims, de Mores was sending surveyors south to lay out his route.
From Sully Creek they led it across the headwaters of the Heart River
and the countless affluents of the Grand and the Cannonball, past Slim
Buttes and the Cave Hills, across the valleys of the Bellefourche and
the Moreau, two hundred and twenty-five miles into the Black Hills and
Deadwood. Deadwood gave the Marquis a public reception, hailing him as
a benefactor of the race, and the Marquis, flushed and seeing
visions, took a flying trip to New York and presented a petition to
the directors of the Northern Pacific for a railroad from Medora to
the Black Hills.

The dream was perfect, and everybody (except the Dickinson _Press_)
was happy. Nothing remained but to organize the stage company, buy the
coaches, the horses and the freight outfits, improve the highway,
establish sixteen relay stations, and get started. And there, the real
difficulties commenced.

The Marquis, possibly feeling that it was the part of statesmanship to
conciliate a rival, forgot apparently all other considerations and
asked Bill Williams, the saloon-keeper, to undertake the organization
of the stage-line. Williams assiduously disposed of the money which
the Marquis put in his hands, but attained no perceptible results. The
Marquis turned next to Bill Williams's partner in freighting and faro
and asked Jess Hogue to take charge. Hogue, who was versatile and was
as willing to cheat a man in one way as in anothe