“Do you have Senators here too?” said Ogden, raising his eyebrows. “What do they look like? Are they females?” And the Governor grew more boisterous than ever, slapping his knee and declaring that these Eastern men were certainly “out of sight”. Ogden, however, was thoughtful.
“I'd have been willing to chip in for that rain myself,” he said.
“That's an idea!” cried the Governor. “Nothing unconstitutional about that. Let's see. Three hundred and fifty dollars—”
“I'll put up a hundred,” said Ogden, promptly. “I'm out for a Western vacation, and I'll pay for a good specimen.”
The Governor and I subscribed more modestly, and by noon, with the help of some lively minded gentlemen of Cheyenne, we had the purse raised. “He won't care,” said the Governor, “whether it's a private enterprise or a municipal step, so long as he gets his money.”
“He won't get it, I'm afraid,” said Ogden. “But if he succeeds in tempting Providence to that extent, I consider it cheap. Now what do you call those people there on the horses?”
We were walking along the track of the Cheyenne and Northern, and looking out over the plain toward Fort Russell. “That is a cow-puncher and his bride,” I answered, recognizing the couple.
“Real cow-puncher?”
“Quite. The puncher's name is Lin McLean.”
“Real bride?”