, Johnson!"

"Boys, Rance ain't a-runnin' The Polka yet!" observed Sonora with a
mocking smile on his lips, and gloating over the opportunity to give the
Sheriff a dig.

The men shouted their approval of this jibe. Indeed, they might have
gone just a little too far with their badgering of the Sheriff,
considering the mood that he was in; so, perhaps, it was fortunate that
Nick should break in upon them at this time with:

"Gents, the boys from The Ridge invites you to dance with them."

No great amount of enthusiasm was evinced at this. Nevertheless, it was
a distinct declaration of peace; and, taking advantage of it, Johnson
advanced toward the Girl, bowed low, and asked with elaborate formality:

"May I have the honour of a waltz?"

Flabbergasted and awed to silence by what they termed Johnson's "style,"
Happy and Handsome stood staring helplessly at one another; at length
Happy broke out with:

"Say, Handsome, ain't he got a purty action? An' ornamental sort o'
cuss, ain't he? But say, kind o' presumin' like, ain't it, for a fellow
breathin' the obscurity o' The Crossin' to learn gents like us how to
ketch the ladies pronto?"

"Which same," allowed Handsome, "shorely's a most painful, not to say
humiliatin' state o' things." And then to the Girl he whispered: "It's
up to you--make a holy show of 'im."

The Girl laughed.

"Me waltz? Me?" she cried, answering Johnson at last. "Oh, I can't waltz
but I can polky."

Once more Johnson bent his tall figure to the ground, and said:

"Then may I have the pleasure of the next polka?"

By this time Sonora had recovered from his astonishment. After giving
vent to a grunt expressive of his contempt, he blurted out:

"That fellow's too flip!"

But the idea had taken hold of the Girl, though she temporised shyly:

"Oh, I dunno! Makes me feel kind o' foolish, you know, kind o' retirin'
like a elk in summer."

Johnson smiled in spite of himself.

"Elks are retiring," was his comment as he again advanced and offered
his arm in an impressive and ceremonious manner.

"Well, I don't like everybody's hand on the back o' my waist," said the
Girl, running her hands up and down her dress skirt. "But, somehow--"
She stopped, and fixing her eyes recklessly on Rance, made a movement as
if about to accept; but another look at Johnson's proffered arm so
embarrassed her that she sent a look of appeal to the rough fellows, who
stood watching her with grinning faces.

"Oh,