accidents which
happened while he was in that condition, though unfortunate, were to
be classed, not with crimes, but with tornadoes and hailstorms and
thunder bolts, rather as "acts of God." The general expression of the
editor's opposition to this amiable theory brought only rumblings, but
the specific applications brought indignant citizens with
six-shooters. Packard had occasion to note the merits as a lethal
weapon of the iron "side-stick" with which he locked his type forms.
It revealed itself as more potent than a six-shooter, and a
carving-knife was not in a class with it; as he proved to the
satisfaction of all concerned when a drunken butcher, who attempted to
cut a Chinaman into fragments, came to the _Cowboy_ office, "to
forestall adverse comment in the next issue."

Packard was amused to note how much his ability to defend himself
simplified the problem of moulding public opinion in Medora.

The law-abiding ranchmen along the Little Missouri, who found a
spokesman in the editor of the _Cowboy_, recognized that what the Bad
Lands needed was government, government with a club if possible, but
in any event something from which a club could be developed. But the
elements of disorder, which had been repulsed when they had suggested
the organization of Billings County a year previous, now vigorously
resisted organization when the impetus came from the men who had
blocked their efforts. But the _Cowboy_ fought valiantly, and the
Dickinson _Press_ in its own way did what it could to help.

Medora is clamoring for a county organization in Billings
County [the editor reported.] We hope they will get it. If
there is any place along the line that needs a criminal
court and a jail it is Medora. Four-fifths of the business
before our justice of the peace comes from Billings County.

A week later, the _Press_ reported that the county was about to be
organized and that John C. Fisher and A. T. Packard were to be two out
of the three county commissioners. Then something happened. What it
was is shrouded in mystery. Possibly the Marquis, who had never been
acquitted by a jury of the killing of Riley Luffsey, decided at the
last minute that, in case the indictment, which was hovering over him
like an evil bird, should suddenly plunge and strike, he would stand a
better chance away from Medora than in it. A word from him to Maunders
and from Maunders to his "gang" would unquestionably have served