Anderson, who was standing in the middle of the crowd, elbowed his way to the front, planked fifty cents down on the box and at the same time remarking, "Give me a bottle of that; it is the only kind that ever done me any good." It is wonderful how the sophisticated inhabitants of large cities can be fooled. This started them, and it wasn't long before our supply was exhausted. I returned the clothes to my friend Ikey, and the next day we were on our way to the real West, our tickets reading Yankton, South Dakota. The morning we arrived in Yankton it was raining, so instead of going out to look for a job, we hung around one of the general mercantile establishments all the forenoon. We had only about twenty cents between us and we spent it for sardines and soda crackers. That afternoon we were successful in landing a job out on Brown's ranch, a distance of fifty miles from Yankton. We learned that Brown had been wanting a couple of men for some time, and he had notified the manager of the store to the effect that if any stray ones came around his place of business to advise him and he would send in after them. The storekeeper put the proposition up to us and we accepted on the spot. We had to spend the night in Yankton, and he advanced us money with which to pay our lodging. The next morning, by break of day, we were on our way to the great ranch lands and those two little western horses attached to that light wagon were only about six hours in conveying us to "Brown's X," as it was generally known throughout the country of South Dakota. Six long lonely months were enough on that ranch. There was only one incident of any importance during our stay at Brown's place in the heart of the range country of Dakota. A part of a letter received from my good friend Anderson not many months ago will acquaint the reader with this little episode of mine. In recalling some of our past experiences, he writes: "Say, but didn't we make the eatables do the disappearing act, though, when we would come in after inhaling great draughts of Dakota ozone? And those cow-punchers were all good fellows--that is, all except Baker. I am at a loss to understand why he had it in for you, unless it was your unconscious 'hit' with that Parker girl, and I think he had designs on her himself. I believe that when he dared you to ride that 'bronco' without saddle, bridle, or stirrups, or anything else except a girth, that he hoped you would either be killed or permanently injured, for he seemed disappointed when you came out unscratched. Straddling the bare back of an 'outlaw' with a mean disposition is a darn tough proposition, especially as you have nothing to hold on to except the mane. I'll never forget the day Baker told the Bunch that after he had finished dinner he was going to show that 'college kid' a few things about the manly art, and when you came to, you would probably know something. [Illustration: "Straddling the Bare Back of an Outlaw is a Tough Proposition."