THE TIRELESS COWBOY 119 



Colonel Cody was a regimental commander of our regu- 

 lar army. In fact, she became convinced, to my keen 

 chagrin, that I myself was no army officer, for, said she, 

 " I know a gentleman who has seen his commission." 

 "Buffalo Bill" represents one phase of our civilization 

 most admirably ; but we have, in the eyes of the semi-in- 

 telligent abroad, fallen as a nation to the estate of Indian 

 fighters and bronco-busters, partly owing to the education 

 given the average circus- public by the otherwise irre- 

 proachable Wild West. For all that, hail to " B. B.," and 

 here's a bumper to his future ! 



The cowboy will stay in the saddle an almost unheard- 

 of period, often forty-eight hours at a time, when holding 

 big bunches of cattle. He is up by daylight, and works 

 till dark, and then well on into the night, or all night long 

 by turns. He is faithful and untiring, and wedded to his 

 master's interests. Much of the vice attributed to the 

 cowboy must be laid to the score of the " bad man " of 

 the plains, a class which used to exist in great numbers, 

 but has been for the most part hunted down and run out 

 by the ranchmen, who were the greatest sufferers. 



This term " bad man" always strikes me as an odd coin- 

 age for a set of fellows no more noted for abstemiousness 

 in language than mule-drivers. Its very moderation, how- 

 ever, lends it force, though at first blush it sounds like 

 what the children call goody-goody. And out on the 

 plains there is far less overwrought language than in the 

 slums of cities. The language is picturesquely forcible, 

 but rarely flavored with Billingsgate. The cowboy is no 

 saint, but he is a manly fellow, and averages quite as well 

 as the farmer or mechanic; the stranger who has been 

 cast on his hospitality, and has accepted it as frankly as 

 it was tendered, would say much higher. 



The cowboy rides with the easy balance bred of con- 



