offer him protection, so he must be quick to
protect himself and to maintain his own standing. His nature saved him,
or it executed; and the range absolved him of all unpaid penalties of a
careless past.

He became a man born again and he took up his burden, the exactions of
a new environment, and he lived as long as those exactions gave him the
right to live. He must tolerate no restrictions of his natural rights,
and he must not restrict; for the one would proclaim him a coward,
the other a bully; and both received short shrifts in that land of the
self-protected. The basic law of nature is the survival of the fittest.

So, when the wanderers found their level in Buckskin they were not even
asked by what name men knew them. Not caring to hear a name which might
not harmonize with their idea of the fitness of things, the cowboys of
the Bar-20 had, with a freedom born of excellent livers and fearless
temperaments, bestowed names befitting their sense of humor and
adaptability. The official title of the Sioux was By-and-by; the dog was
known as Fleas. Never had names more clearly described the objects to be
represented, for they were excellent examples of cowboy discernment and
aptitude.

In their eyes By-and-by was a man. He could feel and he could resent
insults. They did not class him as one of themselves, because he did not
have energy enough to demand and justify such classification. With them
he had a right to enjoy his life as he saw fit so long as he did not
trespass on or restrict the rights of others. They were not analytic
in temperament, neither were they moralists. He was not a menace to
society, because society had superb defenses. So they vaguely recognized
his many poor qualities and clearly saw his few good ones. He could
shoot, when permitted, with the best; no horse, however refractory, had
ever been known to throw him; he was an adept at following the trails
left by rustlers, and that was an asset; he became of value to the
community; he was an economic factor.

His ability to consume liquor with indifferent effects raised him
another notch in their estimation. He was not always talking when some
one else wished to--another count. There remained about him that stoical
indifference to the petty; that observant nonchalance of the Indian;
and there was a suggestion, faint, it was true, of a dignity common to
chieftains. He was a log of grave deference which tossed on their sea of
mischievous hilarity