Two cowboys came to the ranch of the scout with a herd of cattle; one a half-breed, the other a white man, sinewy, tall and straight. He was a typical cowboy who had lived a life of adventure and hardship, rugged and bronzed by the sun. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, leather chaps, and high-heeled boots; a knotted scarlet handkerchief round his neck, and a cartridge belt with a six-shooter hanging from his hips. His fearless gray eyes looked straight out at me, and he moved and spoke with an easy, careless air of confidence. He had a smiling face and talked in a high squeaky voice that sometimes broke. Yellow Bird told me, with mingled awe and admiration, that he was a famous bandit named “Slim.” The United States Government had a reward on him dead or alive. Single-handed he held up a Montana stage, and an express train on the Northern Pacific Railway. Now he was trying to get a herd of stolen cattle across the border-line into Canada; they were “mavericks,” or unbranded cattle, taken out of many herds. Because of his adventurous life, Slim carried several bullets in his body. His right arm was so crippled that he could not lift his hand to his mouth. But, in spite of his wounds, he could still rope cattle and break wild horses; and was a dead shot with both hands. I saw him break a vicious bronco to the saddle. He went into our high round horse corral, with smooth and easy gait, jangling spurs, and dragging his lariat which he coiled as he went. He lost no time and his movements were quiet and catlike. He did not seem to lift his arm or move; suddenly his noose shot out its full length and settled gracefully over the neck of the bronco. It bawled with rage and fear; threw down its head and sprang high into the air. It walked about on its hind legs, striking with forefeet and threw itself over backwards. But Slim finally mastered and tied it to the snubbing post. When he had finished his job, he could ride it without bucking, and led it about with a rope. From the first I took a liking to this brave and hardy bandit, with smiling face and winning way and nerves of steel. He had a pleasant and easy-going disposition, with a broad and genial tolerance. He did not look down upon people with a different code, or hold it against me because my actions were within the law. To him there was nothing out of the way in robbing stages and trains and driving stolen cattle. He did not speak of these things, nor did he boast of them; to him they needed no apology. He was simple-hearted and generous—a type that would quietly face death without flinching, be faithful to friends and chivalrous towards women. But he would pursue an enemy with bitter and vindictive hatred. Like all cowboys Slim loved excitement—especially a dance. That night there was going to be a party down the river at the Lone Wolf Ranch; and Slim asked me to go along.