The "Deacon," who possibly rejoiced at being for once taken seriously, suggested that Sylvane ride to Gladstone and see if he could not straighten the matter out. The other cowpunchers, whose acquaintance with legal procedure was as vague as Sylvane's, agreed that that plan sounded reasonable. Sylvane went, accompanied by the "Deacon" and another cowboy. If there was a gleam of wicked triumph in the stranger's eye when Sylvane rode up to him, Sylvane failed to notice it. Before a justice of the peace he agreed to appear in court on a certain date, and his two companions furnished a bond. Next day, while they were in camp on the Heart River, an acquaintance of Sylvane's, a lawyer who rejoiced in the harmonious name of Western Starr, rode in from Dickinson to have dinner with "the boys." Sylvane showed him the papers the stranger had deposited at his feet. The lawyer glanced over them. "What are these?" he asked. "I don't know," answered Sylvane lightly. "That's what I handed them to you for, to find out." "Why," exclaimed Starr, "these aren't anything. They haven't been signed by anybody." Sylvane's jaw dropped. "Say, how about my bond?" "Oh, that's valid, even if these are not. You've got to appear in court." Sylvane's feelings concerning the "Deacon" and his precious advice were deep and earnest. The situation was serious. He knew well enough the chance that the "outfit" of a wealthy Easterner like Roosevelt would stand with a Gladstone jury, when it was a question of depriving a poor man of his cow. Western Starr suggested that he arrange for a change of venue. Sylvane approved. The change of venue cost ten dollars, but was granted. The date of the trial was set. Sylvane traveled to Dickinson and waited all day with his attorney for the trial to be called. No one appeared, not even the judge. Starr's fee was twenty dollars. Sylvane's railroad fare was five more. The total bill was thirty-five. Roosevelt paid the bill. If he remarked that, taking lost time into consideration, it would have been cheaper, in the first place, to pay the Russian the forty dollars he demanded, there is no record of it. But the remark would not have been characteristic. The chances are that he thought Sylvane's encounter with the law worth every cent that it cost. XVIII Somewhere on some faded page I read about a Golden Age, But gods and Caledonian hunts Were nothing to what I knew once. Here on these hills was hunting! Here Antelope sprang and wary deer. Here there were heroes! On these plains Were drops afire from dragons' veins! Here there was challenge, here defying, Here was true living, here great dying! Stormy winds and stormy souls, Earthly wills with starry goals, Battle--thunder--hoofs in flight-- Centaurs charging down the night!