LET 'ER BUCK 



pant in this fool stunt, afterwards remarks, when 

 Elmer Storie rubbing horse liniment on his bruises 

 asked how the steer felt on him ; "I thought he was a 

 stone age centipede doing a four-step." 



The public now have the coveted opportunity to pour 

 through the gaps of this same wire fence and stroll 

 through Happy Canyon. 



"WELCOME STRANGER HOP TO IT," 



one sign invites. 



You may enter its shacks and stores — yes, and 

 saloons, too, if you are content with soft drinks. 

 Your next move is made clear — "PROMENADE 

 ALL TO THE BAR." When you get there whether 

 you believe in signs or not, "COME ON KID. BUY 

 YOUR LIZZIE A DRINK— SHE AINT A 

 CAMMEL." In fact you may buy anything under 

 the sun with Happy Canyon ten-buck notes, which it 

 is absolutely necessary to provide yourself with before 

 entering, at the rate of ten cents per of Uncle Sam's 

 legal tender. 



One may enter the front door of Stagger Inn and 

 stagger out the back door, but stagger in a right and 

 decorous way if you expect to get by the sheriff and 

 his deputies into the great dance hall with its superb 

 floor. There you may go, and to the music of the 

 splendid Round-Up band "DANCE YOUR FOOL 

 HEAD OFF," as that sign over the entrance suggests. 

 "ONLY REFINED DANCING ALOUD," you are 

 warned; and the management advises you frankly, 

 "WE WANT NO BLUD OR TOBAKO JUCE 

 SPILT IN HEAR." 



If you are not au fait on the finer points of ballroom 

 etiquette a way out is plainly indicated — "GENTS 

 WILL KINDLY SPIT OUT THE WINDOW— 



116 



