As a class, they are brimful and running over with wit, merriment, and good humor. They are always ready for any bit of innocent fun, but are not perpetually spoiling for a fight, as has so often been said of them. They are at peace with all men, and would not be otherwise from choice. As a rule, if a man quarrel with one of them, he forces the war and is himself to blame. Their love of fun often leads to trouble, though generally because the victim of it does not know how, or is not willing, to either "chip in" or excuse himself. They are fond of "piping off" anything that is particularly conspicuous, or _vice versa_, no matter to whom it belongs, and they dislike to see snobbish airs assumed in their country, though such might pass current in any Eastern city.
I once saw a dude step out of a hotel in Cheyenne, wearing a silk hat, cut-away coat, lavender pants, high pressure collar, scarlet velvet scarf, patent leather shoes, etc. Several cowboys were riding through the street and spied him.
"Say, Dick," said one of them, "what de ye s'pose it is?"
"Let's tackle it and see," said Dick; "it looks alive."
"Pard, hadn't you better put them togs on ice?" queried another of the party. "They're liable to spile in this climate."
The youth was highly offended, gave them a haughty, withering look, and without deigning a reply of any kind turned to walk back into the hotel.
"Let's brand it," said Dick, and as quick as a flash a lariat fell about the dude, closed round his slender waist, and he was a prisoner. The boys gathered round him, chaffed him good-naturedly, took his hat and rubbed the nap the wrong way, put some alkali mud on his shoes, and then released him, bidding him "go in and put on some clothes." A little good-natured repartee on his part, or an invitation to drink or smoke, or a pleasant reply of any kind, would have let him out without any unpleasant treatment; but he scorned them, and they considered it a duty to society to post him on how to act when away from home.
A friend relates having seen an eccentric individual, with a long plaid ulster, walking along the principal street in Miles City, and as the sun came out from behind a cloud and commenced to beam down with a good deal of force, he raised a green umbrella. A "cow puncher" rode up and, pointing at the umbrella, asked: