MYDEARHARRYMERCER：WhenLinMcLeanwasonlyaheroinmanuscript，hereceivedhisfirstwelcomeandchasteningbeneathyourpatientroof。Bynonesomuchasbyyouhasheinprivatebeenhelpedandaffectionatelydisciplined，annowyoumuststandgodfathertohimuponthispublicpage。
　　Intheolddays，thehappydays，whenWyomingwasaTerritorywithafutureinsteadofaStatewithapast，andtheunfencedcattlegrazeduponherrangesbyprosperousthousands，youngLinMcLeanawakedearlyonemorningincowcamp，andlaystaringoutofhisblanketsupontheworld。Hewouldbetwenty-twothisweek。Hewastheyoungestcow-puncherincamp。Butbecausehecouldbreakwildhorses，hewasearningmoredollarsamonththananymanthere，exceptone。Thecookwasamoreindispensableperson。Nonesavethecookwasup，sofar，thismorning。
　　Lin’sbrotherpuncherssleptabouthimontheground，somemotionless，someshiftingtheirproneheadstoburrowdeeperfromtheincreasingday。
　　Thebusyworkofspringwasover，thatofthefall，orbeefround-up，notyetcome。Itwasmid-July，alullforthesehard-ridingbachelorsofthesaddle，andmanyunspentdollarsstoodtoMr。McLean’screditontheranchbooks。
　　“What’sthematterwithsomevariety？“mutteredtheboyinhisblankets。
　　Thelongrangeofthemountainsliftedclearintheair。Theyslantedfromthepurplefoldsandfurrowsofthepinesthatrichlycloakedthem，upwardintorockandgrassybarenessuntiltheybrokeremotelyintobrightpeaks，andfilmedintothedistantlavenderofthenorthandthesouth。OntheirwesternsidethestreamsranintoSnakeorintoGreenRiver，andsoatlengthmetthePacific。Onthisside，WindRiverflowedforthfromthem，descendingoutoftheLakeofthePaintedMeadows。A
　　meretrout-brookitwasupthereatthetopofthedivide，witheasyrifflesandstepping-stonesinmanyplaces；butdownhere，outsidethemountains，itwasbecomeastreamingavenue，abroadeningcourse，impetuousbetweenitstwotallgreenwallsofcottonwood-trees。Andsoitwoundawaylikeavastgreenribbonacrossthelilac-graysage-brushandtheyellow，vanishingplains。
　　“Variety，youbet!“youngLinrepeated，aloud。
　　Heunrolledhimselffromhisbed，andbroughtfromthegarmentsthatmadehispillowafewtoiletarticles。Hegotonhislongboylegsandlimpedblithelytothemargin。Inthemorningshisslightlamenesswasalwaysmorevisible。ThecampwasatBullLakeCrossing，wheretheforkfromBullLakejoinsWindRiver。HereLinfoundsomeconvenientshingle-stones，withdark，deepishwateragainstthem，whereheplungedhisfaceandenergeticallywashed，andcameupwiththeshortcurlyhairshininguponhisroundhead。Afterenoughlooksathimselfinthedarkwater，andhavingknottedaclean，jauntyhandkerchiefathisthroat，hereturnedwithhisslightlimptocamp，wheretheywerejustsittingatbreakfasttotherearofthecook-shelfofthewagon。
　　“Buggeduptokill!“exclaimedone，perceivingLin’scarefuldress。
　　“Hesurehasnotshavedagain？“anotherinquired，withconcern。
　　“Iain’tgotmyopera-glasseson，“answeredathird。
　　“Hehassparedthatpansy-blossommustache，“saidafourth。
　　“Myspringcrop，“remarkedyoungLin，roundingonthislastone，“hasjuicierprospectsthanthatrat-eatencatastropheoflastyear’shaywhichwandersoutofyourface。“
　　“Why，you’llsoonbetalkingyourselfintoaregularman，“saidtheother。
　　ButthecamplaughremainedonthesideofyoungLintillbreakfastwasended，whentheranchforemanrodeintocamp。
　　HimLinMcLeanatonceaddressed。“Iwaswantin’tospeaktoyou，“saidhe。
　　Theexperiencedforemannoticedtheboy’sholidayappearance。“I
　　understandyou’retiredofwork，“heremarked。
　　“Whotoldyou？“askedthebewilderedLin。
　　Theforemantouchedtheboy’sprettyhandkerchief。“Well，Ihaveawayoftakingthingsinataglance，“saidhe。“That’swhyI’mforeman，I
　　expect。Soyou’vehadenoughwork？“
　　“Mysystem’sfullofit，“repliedLin，grinning。Astheforemanstoodthinking，headded，“AndI’dlikemytime。“
　　Time，inthecattleidiom，meantback-payuptodate。
　　“It’sgoodwe’renotbusy，“saidtheforeman。
　　“Meanin’I’dquitallthesame？“inquiredLin，rapidly，flushing。
　　“No——notmeaninganyoffence。Catchupyourhorse。Iwanttomakethepostbeforeitgetshot。“
　　TheforemanhadcomedowntheriverfromtheranchatMeadowCreek，andthepost，hisgoal，wasFortWashakie。AllthispartofthecountryformedtheShoshoneIndianReservation，where，bypermission，pasturedtheherdswhoseownerwouldpayLinhistimeatWashakie。Sotheyoungcow-puncherflungonhissaddleandmounted。
　　“So-long!“heremarkedtothecamp，bywayoffarewell。Hemightneverbegoingtoseeanyofthemagain；butthecow-puncherswerenotdemonstrativebyhabit。
　　“GoingtostoplongatWashakie？“askedone。
　　“Almaisnotwaiter-girlatthehotelnow，“anothermentioned。
　　“Ifthere’sanewgirl，“saidathird，“kissheroneforme，andtellherI’mhandsomerthanyou。“
　　“Iain’tadeceiverofwomen，“saidLin。
　　“That’swhyyou’lltellher，“repliedhisfriend。
　　“Say，Lin，whyareyouquittin’ussosudden，anyway？“askedthecook，grievedtolosehim。
　　“I’maftersomevariety，“saidtheboy。
　　“Ifyoupickupmorethanyoucanuse，justcanalittleofitforme!“
　　shoutedthecookatthedepartingMcLean。
　　ThiswasthelastofcampbyBullLakeCrossing，andintheforeman’scompanyyoungLinnowtooktheroadforhisaccumulateddollars。
　　“Soyou’releavingyourbeddingandstuffwiththeoutfit？“saidtheforeman。
　　“Broughtmytooth-brush，“saidLin，showingitinthebreast-pocketofhisflannelshirt。
　　“GoingtoDenver？“
　　“Why，maybe。“
　　“TakeinSanFrancisco？“
　　“Soundsslick。“
　　“Madeanyplans？“
　　“Gosh，no!“
　　“Don’twantanythingonyourbrain？“
　　“Nothin’exceptmyhat，Iguess，“saidLin，andbrokeintocheerfulsong：
　　“’Twasanastybabyanyhow，Anditonlydiedtospiteus；
　　’TwasafflictedwiththecerebrowSpinalmeningitis!’“
　　TheywoundupoutofthemagicvalleyofWindRiver，throughthebastionedgulliesandthegnome-likemysteryofdrywater-courses，upwardanduptothelevelofthehugesage-brushplainabove。Behindlaythedeepvalleytheyhadclimbedfrom，mighty，expanding，itstreeslikebushes，itscattlelikepebbles，itsoppositesidetoweringalsototheedgeofthisupperplain。Thereitlay，anotherworld。Onestepfartherawayfromitsrim，andthetwoedgesoftheplainhadflowedtogetheroveritlikeaclosingsea，coveringwithoutasignorripplethegreatcountrywhichlaysunkbeneath。
　　“Amanmightthinkhe’ddreamedhe’dsawthatplace，“saidLintotheforeman，andwheeledhishorsetotheedgeagain。“She’ssurethere，though，“headded，gazingdown。Foramomenthisboyfacegrewthoughtful。“Shucks!“saidhethen，abruptly，“where’sanyjoyinmoneythat’scomin’tillitarrives？Ihavemostforgotthefeelo’spot-cash。“
　　Heturnedhishorseawayfromthefar-windingvisionoftheriver，andtookasharpjogaftertheforeman，whohadnotbeenwaitingforhim。
　　Thustheycrossedtheeighteenmilesofhighplain，andcamedowntoFortWashakie，inthevalleyofLittleWind，beforethedaywashot。
　　Hisrollofwagesoncejammedinhispocketlikeanoldhandkerchief，youngLinprecipitatedhimselfoutofthepost-trader’sstoreandawayonhishorseupthestreamamongtheShoshonetepeestoanunexpectedentertainment——awolf-dance。Hehadmeanttogoandseewhatthenewwaiter-girlatthehotellookedlike，butputthisoffpromptlytoattendthedance。ThishospitalitytheShoshoneIndianswereextendingtosomevisitingUtefriends，andtheneighborhoodwasassembledtowatchtheringofpaintednakedsavages。
　　Thepost-traderlookedafterthegallopingLin。“What’shequittinghisjobfor？“heaskedtheforeman。
　　“Sameasmostof’emquit。“
　　“Nothing？“
　　“Nothing。“
　　“Beensatisfactory？“
　　“Neverhadaboymoreso。Good-hearted，willing，aplumbdare-devilwithahorse。“
　　“Andworthless，“suggestedthepost-trader。
　　“Well——notyet。He’sheadedthatway。“
　　“Beenpunchingcattlelong？“
　　“Cameinthecountryaboutseventy-eight，Ibelieve，androdefortheBordeauxOutfitmostayear，andquit。BlewinatCheyennetillhewentbroke，andworkedoverontothePlatte。RodefortheC。Y。Outfitmostayear，andquit。BlewinatBuffalo。RodeforBalaamawhileonButteCreek。Brokehisleg。WenttotheDryboneHospital，andwhenthefracturewascommencingtoknitprettygoodhebrokeitagainatthehog-ranchacrossthebridge。Nexttimeyou’reinCheyennegetDr。Barkertotellyouaboutthat。McLeandriftedtoGreenRiverlastyearandwentupoverontoSnake，andupSnake，andwasaroundwithaprospectingoutfitonGalenaCreekbyPitchstoneCanyon。SeemshegotinterestedinsomeDutchwomanupthere，butshehadtrouble——died，Ithinktheysaid——andhecamedownbyMeteetseetoWindRiver。He’sliabletogotoMexicoorAfricanext。“
　　“Ifyouneedhim，“saidthepost-trader，closinghisledger，“youcanofferhimfivemoreamonth。“
　　“That’llnotholdhim。“
　　“Well，lethimgo。Haveacigar。ThebishopisexpectedforSunday，andI’vegottoseehisroomisfixedupforhim。“
　　“Thebishop!“saidtheforeman。“I’veheardhimhighlyspokenof。“
　　“Youcanhearhimpreachto-morrow。Thebishopisagoodman。“
　　“He’sbetterthanthat；he’saman，“statedtheforeman——“atleastsotheytellme。“
　　Now，savinganIndiandance，scarceanypossibleeventattheShoshoneagencycouldassembleinonespotsomanysortsofinhabitantsasavisitfromthisbishop。Inhabitantsoffourcolorsgatheredtoviewthewolf-dancethisafternoon——redmen，whitemen，blackmen，yellowmen。
　　Nextday，threesortscametochurchattheagency。TheChineselaundrywasabsent。Butbecause，indeedastheforemansaid，thebishopwasnotonlyagoodmanbutaman，Wyomingheldhiminrespectandwenttolookathim。HestoodintheagencychurchandheldtheEpiscopalservicethisSundaymorningforsomebrightlyglitteringarmyofficersandtheirfamilies，somewhitecavalry，andsomeblackinfantry；theagencydoctor，thepost-trader，hisforeman，thegovernmentscout，threegamblers，thewaiter-girlfromthehotel，thestage-driver，whowastherebecauseshewas；oldChiefWashakie，white-hairedandroyalinblankets，withtworoyalUtessplendidbesidehim；onebenchfulofsquattingIndianchildren，silentandmarvelling；and，onthebackbench，thecommandingofficer’snewhired-girl，and，besideher，LinMcLean。