At that moment Harris, the sheriff, came in and volunteered to supply the necessary music if the crowd would pay the fine against a straying fiddler he had corraled the day before.

A hat was quickly passed and a sum was realized which would pay several fines to come and Harris departed for the music.
A chair was placed on the bar for the musician and, to the tune of "Old Dan Tucker" and an assortment of similar airs, the board floor shook and trembled.

It was a comical sight and Hopalong, the only wallflower besides Baum and the sheriff, laughed until he became weak.

Cow punchers play as they work, hard and earnestly, and there was plenty of action.
Sombreros flapped like huge wings and the baggy chaps looked like small, distorted balloons.
The Virginia reel was a marvel of supple, exaggerated grace and the quadrille looked like a free-for-all for unbroken colts.

The honor of prompter was conferred upon the sheriff, and he gravely called the changes as they were usually called in that section of the country: "Oh, th' ladies trail in An' th' gents trail out, An' all stampede down th' middle.
If yu ain't got th' tin Yu can dance an' shout, But yu must keep up with th' fiddle." As the dance waxed faster and the dancers grew hotter Hopalong, feeling lonesome because he wouldn't face ridicule, even if it was not expressed, went over and stood by the sheriff.