it was because she was so frankly antagonistic that
there was nothing tame about our intercourse. I can't like girls who
invariably say just what you expect them to say.

When we came to get ready, there was a dress-discussion that a lot of
women would find it hard to beat. Some of the boys wanted to play up to,
the aristocrats' expectations, and wear their gaudiest neckerchiefs, their
chaps, spurs, and all the guns they could get their hands on; but I had an
idea I thought beat theirs, and proselyted for all I was worth. Rankin
had packed a lot of dress suits in one of my trunks--evidently he thought
Montana was some sort of house-party--and I wanted to build a surprise for
the good people at King's. I wanted the boys to use those suits to the
best advantage.

At first they hung back. They didn't much like the idea of wearing
borrowed clothes--which attitude I respected, but felt bound to overrule.
I told them it was no worse than borrowing guns, which a lot of them were
doing. In the end my oratory was rewarded as it deserved; it was decided
that, as even my capacious trunks couldn't be expected to hold thirty
dress suits, part of the crowd should ride in full regalia. I might "tog
up" as many as possible, and said "togged" men must lend their guns to the
others; for every man of the "reals" insisted on wearing a gun dangling
over each hip.

So I went down into my trunks, and disinterred four dress suits and three
Tuxedos, together with all the appurtenances thereto. Oh, Rankin was
certainly a wonder! There was a gay-colored smoking-jacket and cap that
one of the boys took a fancy to and insisted on wearing, but I drew the
line at that. We nearly had a fight over it, right there.

When we were dressed--and I had to valet the whole lot of them, except
Frosty, who seemed wise to polite apparel--we were certainly a bunch of
winners. Modesty forbids explaining just how _I_ appear in a dress suit.
I will only say that my tailor knew his business--but the others were
fearful and wonderful to look upon. To begin with, not all of them stand
six-feet-one in their stocking-feet, or tip the scales at a hundred and
eighty odd; likewise their shoulders lacked the breadth that goes with the
other measurements. Hence my tailor would doubtless have wept at the
sight; shoulders drooping spiritlessly, and sleeves turned up, and
trousers likewise. Frosty Miller, though, was like a man with his mask
off; he stood there looking the ge