MILLING WITH THE NIGHT HERD 



WE USE WAX." So the life of Happy Canyon is 

 brimful to overflowing with excitement and the atmos- 

 phere of the old frontier days. There is enough fun 

 for all. So stay with the bunch and "DONT AKT 

 LIKE YOU WUZ THE ONLY BRONK IN THE 

 CORRAL." 



The night life is not the least interesting of the many 

 Round-Up attractions, and nowhere can it be seen as 

 well as entered into better than on and off Main 

 Street where the milling of the night herd centers. 

 Here you rub elbows with old-timers and strangers, 

 bankers and cowboys, business men and ranchers, 

 preachers and Indians, doctors and ranch hands, 

 judges and sheepherders. 



You can turn with any bunch of strays into the 

 dance halls, shooting galleries, restaurants, movies or 

 the cowboy theater; or you can follow the trail of 

 tobacco juice to the principal hangouts of some of the 

 buckaroos. The poolrooms are all full, almost as full 

 as they were in the days of bars and "sunshine." 



Here a bunch of the cowboys line the curb and win- 

 dow sill outside one of their main resorts. Let's go 

 in. Never mind that quartette at the little game in the 

 corner. It may be seven-up, California Jack or solo; 

 but more likely the brand is poker. 



"What's the verdant wad that feller's pulling from 

 his chapps, big enough to choke a cow?" 



"Oh! I reckon that's a plug of chewin'," says Red 

 Parker, with fingers crossed. 



"Come over, Furlong, park in here. There's room 

 for your friend, too — move over there, Jock." 



We work our way through chairs to a corner table 

 about which is a bunch of my old Pendleton cronies, 

 Jimmie and Cress Sturgis, Elmer Storie, Merle Chess- 



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