A solitary horseman rode into the little frontier town of Bismarck, shortly after dark one evening, about twenty-five years ago. Horse and rider passed up the single unpaved street; in the darkness no one noticed the fagged condition of the animal, nor the excitement of the rider, betokened by the continued urging of his weary pony. The town was unusually full of the nomadic people who made up its population, cow-punchers, saloon keepers, gamblers, freighters, and outlaws. The evening quiet was constantly broken by the sounds of revelry, and the report of a pistol occasionally punctuated the general noise as some hilarious cowboy playfully shot at the lights.…
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