A dance in Silverton was almost a county affair. They had the largest hall in the county and boasted of the best orchestra. The dance usually began about eight o’clock in the evening and rarely if ever ended before eight o’clock the following morning.
And it was not strange on this night that every bit of space in the livery-stable was taken and practically every inch of space at the several hitch-racks was occupied. It was also a big night for the games at the Short Horn saloon, as every cowpuncher made it a point to borrow or draw enough money to make the trip worth while.
Already the rasping notes of a fiddler tuning his instrument filtered out through the open windows of the big upstairs dance-hall across the street from the Short Horn saloon. Cowpunchers, suffering in celluloid coll
