The shame of shining in borrowed plumes was largely lost in such open-hearted generosity, and Fred, under his companion’s insistence and selection, soon found himself a smartly dressed cowboy indeed. He could hardly voice his thanks as he mounted Chief to ride away. The night was brilliant with stars; the moon had not yet risen, but was sending its promises of a beautiful night by tipping the dark hills with silver. The air, fresh and fragrant, turned to a gentle breeze as Chief, taking the bits, leaped along the echoing road. It was an exquisite ride. Fred let the fine horse keep his own swift pace till suddenly he galloped out of the timber that lined the creek, and the lights of the village flashed before him. It was easy to find the dance hall. Lamps were blazing from every window, and the music was ringing as he rode up. A herd of saddle ponies, and a motley collection of buckboards, lumber wagons, and “white tops” were ranged along the fences. Everybody seemed to be out. The meeting house was full of happy celebrators. Tying Chief securely to a fence, he made his way hesitantly toward the crowd. A feeling of bashfulness swept over him. He had stopped, half tempted not to push his way into the strange crowd, when some one slapped him on the shoulder, and a tipsy tongue said heartily: “Hello, Tiddy, where the devil did ye drop from? No matter, you’re here; good fer ye, lad, come on.” “Yes, Pat, I’m here; but I have half a notion not to face the music.” “The divil ye say! It’s give in now, is it? Not while I’ve me money staked on ye. I’ll have Jim show ye a foine time. It’s just the crowd to suit ye. That Mormon beer they’re passin’ won’t wet your throat, but ye’ll like it, for there’s no stick in it at all, at all; and they’re a mighty social people, even if they do mix prayin’ with their dancin’. Come along, me lad.” Thus urged, Fred soon found himself in the midst of the crowd. “Here, Jamie,” called Pat, as he caught sight of his partner in the doorway. Jim whirled around. “I’ve caught this trout-lassoin’ Tiddy,” Pat went on; “now show him the toime of his life.” “Why, hello, Teddy,” returned Jim, grabbing the boy’s arm. “Come into the mix-up. You’re losin’ a deal.” Before Fred could protest, Jim had opened a way through the good-natured, jostling crowd of cowboys that blocked the doorway, and he found himself in the heart of the fun. “Alleman left!” trumpeted Uncle Toby, through the buzz of voices, shrill music, and clattery feet. “Promenade all!” he called again. Then with a series of scraping flourishes he wound up his lively tune. The laughing, chatty couples, faces aflush, cleared the crowded floor. “Your attention, please!” called the manager in a commanding tone. The crowd quieted. “The next on our program is a quartet by members of the choir, ‘Sunset Land,’ composed by David Willis for this occasion.”