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the Drybone wind had blown wide from the doors out of which they had been
thrown when a new pack was called for inside。 Among the grass tufts would
lie visitors who had applied for beds too late at the dance…hall； frankly
sleeping their whiskey off in the morning air。
Above； on the hill； the graveyard quietly chronicled this new epoch of
Drybone。 So…and…so was seldom killed very far out of town； and of course
scalping had disappeared。 〃Sacred to the memory of Four…ace Johnston；
accidently shot； Sep。 4； 1885。〃 Perhaps one is still there unaltered：
〃Sacred to the memory of Mrs。 Ryan's babe。 Aged two months。〃 This unique
corpse had succeeded in dying with its boots off。
But a succession of graves was not always needed to read the changing
tale of the place； and how people died there； one grave would often be
enough。 The soldiers； of course； had kept treeless Drybone supplied with
wood。 But in these latter days wood was very scarce。 None grew nearer
than twenty or thirty milesnone； that is； to make boards of a
sufficient width for epitaphs。 And twenty miles was naturally far to go
to hew a board for a man of whom you knew perhaps nothing but what he
said his name was； and to whom you owed nothing； perhaps； but a trifling
poker debt。 Hence it came to pass that headboards grew into a sort of
directory。 They were light to lift from one place to another。 A single
coat of white paint would wipe out the first tenant's name sufficiently
to paint over it the next comer's。 By this thrifty habit the original
boards belonging to the soldiers could go round； keeping pace with the
new civilian population； and though at first sight you might be puzzled
by the layers of names still visible beneath the white paint； you could
be sure that the clearest and blackest was the one to which the present
tenant had answered。
So there on the hill lay the graveyard； steadily writing Drybone's
history； and making that history lay the town at the bottomone thin
line of houses framing three sides of the old parade ground。 In these
slowly rotting shells people rioted； believing the golden age was here；
the age when everybody should have money and nobody should be arrested。
For Drybone soil； you see； was still government soil； not yet handed over
to Wyoming； and only government could arrest there； and only for
government crimes。 But government had gone； and seldom worried Drybone！
The spot was a postage…stamp of sanctuary pasted in the middle of
Wyoming's big map； a paradise for the Four…ace Johnstons。 Only； you must
not steal a horse。 That was really wicked； and brought you instantly to
the notice of Drybone's one officialthe coroner！ For they did keep a
coronerJudge Slaghammer。 He was perfectly illegal； and lived next door
in Albany County。 But that county paid fees and mileage to keep tally of
Drybone's casualties。 His wife owned the dance…hall； and between their
industries they made out a living。 And all the citizens made out a
living。 The happy cow…punchers on ranches far and near still earned and
instantly spent the high wages still paid them。 With their bodies full of
youth and their pockets full of gold； they rode into town by twenties； by
fifties； and out again next morning； penniless always and happy。 And then
the Four…ace Johnstons would sit card…playing with each other till the
innocents should come to town again。
To…night the innocents had certainly come to town； and Drybone was
furnishing to them all its joys。 Their many horses stood tied at every
post and cornerpatient； experienced cow…ponies； well knowing it was an
all…night affair。 The talk and laughter of the riders was in the saloons；
they leaned joking over the bars； they sat behind their cards at the
tables； they strolled to the post…trader's to buy presents for their easy
sweethearts their boots were keeping audible time with the fiddle at Mrs。
Slaghammer's。 From the multitude and vigor of the sounds there； the dance
was being done regularly。 〃Regularly〃 meant that upon the conclusion of
each set the gentleman led his lady to the bar and invited her to choose
and it was also regular that the lady should choose。 Beer and whiskey
were the alternatives。
Lin McLean's horse took him across the square without guiding from the
cow…puncher； who sat absently with his hands folded upon the horn of his
saddle。 This horse； too； was patient and experienced； and could not know
what remote thoughts filled his master's mind。 He looked around to see
why his master did not get off lightly； as he had done during so many
gallant years； and hasten in to the conviviality。 But the lonely
cow…puncher sat mechanically identifying the horses of acquaintances。
〃Toothpick Kid is here；〃 said he； 〃and Limber Jim； and the Doughie。 You'd
think he'd stay away after the trouble heI expect that pinto is Jerky
Bill's。〃
〃Go home！〃 said a hearty voice。
McLean eagerly turned。 For the moment his face lighted from its
sombreness。 〃I'd forgot you'd be here；〃 said he。 And he sprang to the
ground。 〃It's fine to see you。〃
〃Go home！〃 repeated the Governor of Wyoming； shaking his ancient friend's
hand。 〃You in Drybone to…night； and claim you're reformed？
〃Yu' seem to be on hand yourself；〃 said the cow…puncher； bracing to be
jocular； if he could。
〃Me！ I've gone fishing。 Don't you read the papers？ If we poor governors
can't lock up the State House and take a whirl now and then〃
〃Doc；〃 interrupted Lin； 〃it's plumb fine to see yu'！〃 Again he shook
hands。
〃Why； yes！ we've met here before； you and I。〃 His Excellency the Hon。
Amory W。 Barker； M。D。； stood laughing； familiar and genial； his sound
white teeth shining。 But behind his round spectacles he scrutinized
McLean。 For in this second hand…shaking was a fervor that seemed a grasp；
a reaching out； for comfort。 Barker had passed through Separ。 Though an
older acquaintance than Billy； he had asked Jessamine fewer and different
questions。 But he knew what he knew。 〃Well； Drybone's the same old
Drybone；〃 said he。 〃Sweet…scented hole of iniquity！ Let's see how you
walk nowadays。〃
Lin took a few steps。
〃Pooh！ I said you'd never get over it。〃 And his Excellency beamed with
professional pride。 In his doctor days Barker had set the boy McLean's
leg； and before it was properly knit the boy had escaped from the
hospital to revel loose in Drybone on such another night as this。 Soon he
had been carried back； with the fracture split open again。
〃It shows； does it？〃 said Lin。 〃Well； it don't usually。 Not except when
I'mwhen I'm〃
〃Down？〃 suggested his Excellency。
〃Yes； Doc。 Down；〃 the cow…puncher confessed。
Barker looked into his friend's clear hazel eyes。
Beneath their dauntless sparkle was something that touched the Governor's
good heart。 〃I've got some whiskey along on the tripEastern whiskey；〃
said he。 〃Come over to my room awhile。〃
〃I used to sleep all night onced；〃 said McLean； as they went。 〃Then I
come t