The long miles slipped unnoticed behind them, and the
sun was not far above the eastern horizon when the party cantered into
Helena.
The town was gaily bedecked in honor of the occasion. The houses were
draped with flags and bunting, and in many cases long colored streamers
fluttered from the windows and roofs.
The cowboys set spurs to their ponies, and swept down the street like
a veritable cyclone. They met other parties who had just arrived, and
exchanged greetings with the many friends among them. There was an air
of merry-making and good-fellowship in the air that was infectious, and
everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves.
"They certainly know how to have a good time," remarked Dick. "I guess
it's because they have so few holidays that they enjoy them all the more
when they do come."
Along the streets booths were lined, selling anything from a ten-cent
pocket knife to a blue-barreled Colts revolver. The numerous saloons were
going full blast, and were doing a profitable business. Nobody is more of
a spendthrift than your true cowboy when he is out on pleasure bent, and
the fakirs and saloon-keepers were taking full advantage of that fact.
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