LET 'ER BUCK 



a store and three or four houses called Nolin nestle 

 near. This little hidden-away spot, in the days of the 

 stage coach and pony express, was the most fertile spot 

 of the surrounding country, a veritable little Garden of 

 Eden with its vegetable lands and orchards. Here in this 

 tucked-away paradise, many a dance was pulled off, not 

 to mention other episodes, when the crowd rode in to 

 the ranch house of one or the other of the settlers. 



The fiddler and the doctor were two of the most im- 

 portant adjuncts to the community life of the frontier. 

 Of course, it was possible to get along without the 

 doctor, but the fiddler was indispensable, and as much 

 in demand as ice cream at a church picnic. It was 

 often necessary to scour the country for hundreds of 

 miles to locate and engage the music. Then there was 

 his side-partner, the "caller." Although month in and 

 month out the dancers stepped through the figures of 

 the quadrille, it was about as useless to hold a dance 

 without a caller, as to brand a "critter" without an 

 iron. 



How they did "hop to it" to the fiddle of "Happy 

 Jack" Morton and the resonant calling of Jimmie 

 Hackett's — 



"Honors to your partners, 



Yes, honors to the left, 



Swing that left hand lady round 



And all promenade." 



Then the midnight supper, and after the tables 

 groaned less heavily under the sumptuous "muck-a- 

 muck," on again whirled the dance. It was "al-a-man 

 (a la main) left" and "Sasshay and swing your part- 

 ners," and the other fellow's too. Then each "boy" 

 with all the strut and grace of an old gamecock, with 

 a scratch or two and a drag of his high-heeled boots 



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