Presently Jim Decker, master of ceremonies, walked over the floor holding a candle in one hand and a jack-knife in the other, shaving wax on the floor, and then trying with his foot to rub it into the wood; and at length, when his candle was exhausted and he put his knife in his pocket, a burst of music sounded from the two fiddlers and the clarionet man. "Take your partners for the quadrille!" Decker shouted in stentorian tones. A number of men at once crossed over, each bowing low or nodding before the lady of his choice, and asking her to dance; and in a few minutes the room was crowded with promenading couples. It was only a moment before this that Jack and Donald, having come up from the corral where they had been feeding and watering the stock, had entered the room. Jack had told Donald about Bess Powell, and wanted him to dance with her, but they were too late for the first dance. As they lingered by the door, looking for Mrs. Powell, to whom Donald must be presented, the sets were formed and the dance began. Jim Decker was calling off the figures in a rude rhyme. "Adams all, swing your Eves," was soon followed by the direction, "Balance to your limberger cheese." Donald nudged Jack. "Great, isn't it?" he whispered. Jack assented by making the Indian sign for "chief," raising the upturned forefinger high above the head and turning it downward. A few moments later they were speaking with Mrs. Powell. "Why didn't you get here earlier, so that you could have danced the first quadrille with Bess?" she said to Jack. "She hoped you would ask her." "Why, Mrs. Powell," he explained, "we were down at the corral feeding and watering and only just got here. Mr. Donald and I both want some dances with Bess." "She'll be glad to dance," was the response; "but you'll have to wait a while." The dancers were enjoying themselves greatly. Though the men largely outnumbered the women, there were at first some girls without partners. The novelty of the surroundings struck terror to the hearts of some of the most daring riders and ropers, and kept them glued to their seats. Buck Wilson, Twenty-One Johnson, and Red Casey of the Bar Lazy A, whose feats in broncho busting and roping had made them famous on the range, felt their courage ooze away when it came to facing a girl and asking her to dance. Their bashfulness was added to by the shouts of Jim Decker and other older men, who tried to induce them to pluck up heart and choose partners for the dance. One by one timid men, who had not yet dared to come into the ballroom, slipped through the door and, apparently trying to make themselves as small as possible, sidled over to seats on the men's side, and sat down to look on.