THE VIRGINIAN

A Horseman Of The Plains

By Owen Wister

To THEODORE ROOSEVELT

Some of these pages you have seen, some you have praised, one standsnew-written because you blamed it; and all, my dear critic, beg leave toremind you of their author's changeless admiration. 

TO THE READER

Certain of the newspapers, when this book was first announced, made amistake most natural upon seeing the sub-title as it then stood, A TALEOF SUNDRY ADVENTURES. "This sounds like a historical novel, " said oneof them, meaning (I take it) a colonial romance. As it now stands, thetitle will scarce lead to such interpretation; yet none the less is thisbook historical--quite as much so as any colonial romance. Indeed, when you look at the root of the matter, it is a colonial romance. ForWyoming between 1874 and 1890 was a colony as wild as was Virginia onehundred years earlier. As wild, with a scantier population, and thesame primitive joys and dangers. There were, to be sure, not so manyChippendale settees. 

We know quite well the common understanding of the term "historicalnovel. " HUGH WYNNE exactly fits it. But SILAS LAPHAM is a novel asperfectly historical as is Hugh Wynne, for it pictures an era andpersonifies a type. It matters not that in the one we find GeorgeWashington and in the other none save imaginary figures; else THESCARLET LETTER were not historical. Nor does it matter that Dr. Mitchelldid not live in the time of which he wrote, while Mr. Howells sawmany Silas Laphams with his own eyes; else UNCLE TOM'S CABIN werenot historical. Any narrative which presents faithfully a day and ageneration is of necessity historical; and this one presents Wyomingbetween 1874 and 1890. Had you left New York or San Francisco at teno'clock this morning, by noon the day after to-morrow you could step outat Cheyenne. There you would stand at the heart of the world that isthe subject of my picture, yet you would look around you in vain for thereality. It is a vanished world. No journeys, save those which memorycan take, will bring you to it now. The mountains are there, far andshining, and the sunlight, and the infinite earth, and the air thatseems forever the true fountain of youth, but where is the buffalo, andthe wild antelope, and where the horseman with his pasturing thousands?So like its old self does the sage-brush seem when revisited, that youwait for the horseman to appear. 

But he will never come again. He rides in his historic yesterday. Youwill no more see him gallop out of the unchanging silence than you willsee Columbus on the unchanging sea come sailing from Palos with hiscaravels. 

And yet the horseman is still so near our day that in some chapters ofthis book, which were published separate at the close of the nineteenthcentury, the present tense was used. It is true no longer. In thosechapters it has been changed, and verbs like "is" and "have" now read"was" and "had. " Time has flowed faster than my ink. 

What is become of the horseman, the cowpuncher, the last romantic figureupon our soil? For he was romantic. Whatever he did, he did with hismight. The bread that he earned was earned hard, the wages that hesquandered were squandered hard, --half a year's pay sometimes gone in anight, --"blown in, " as he expressed it, or "blowed in, " to be perfectlyaccurate. Well, he will be here among us always, invisible, waiting hischance to live and play as he would like. His wild kind has been amongus always, since the beginning: a young man with his temptations, a herowithout wings. 

The cow-puncher's ungoverned hours did not unman him. If he gave hisword, he kept it; Wall Street would have found him behind the times. Nor did he talk lewdly to women; Newport would have thought himold-fashioned. He and his brief epoch make a complete picture, for inthemselves they were as complete as the pioneers of the land or theexplorers of the sea. A transition has followed the horseman of theplains; a shapeless state, a condition of men and manners as unlovely asis that moment in the year when winter is gone and spring not come, andthe face of Nature is ugly. I shall not dwell upon it here. Those whohave seen it know well what I mean. Such transition was inevitable. Letus give thanks that it is but a transition, and not a finality. 

Sometimes readers inquire, Did I know the Virginian? As well, I hope, as a father should know his son. And sometimes it is asked, Was such andsuch a thing true? Now to this I have the best answer in the world. Once a cowpuncher listened patiently while I read him a manuscript. It concerned an event upon an Indian reservation. "Was that the Crowreservation?" he inquired at the finish. I told him that it was noreal reservation and no real event; and his face expressed displeasure. "Why, " he demanded, "do you waste your time writing what never happened, when you know so many things that did happen?"

And I could no more help telling him that this was the highestcompliment ever paid me than I have been able to help telling you aboutit here!

CHARLESTON, S. C. , March 31st, 1902

THE VIRGINIAN

I. ENTER THE MAN

Some notable sight was drawing the passengers, both men and women, tothe window; and therefore I rose and crossed the car to see what it was. I saw near the track an enclosure, and round it some laughing men, andinside it some whirling dust, and amid the dust some horses, plunging, huddling, and dodging. They were cow ponies in a corral, and one of themwould not be caught, no matter who threw the rope. We had plenty of timeto watch this sport, for our train had stopped that the engine mighttake water at the tank before it pulled us up beside the stationplatform of Medicine Bow. We were also six hours late, and starving forentertainment. The pony in the corral was wise, and rapid of limb. Haveyou seen a skilful boxer watch his antagonist with a quiet, incessanteye? Such an eye as this did the pony keep upon whatever man took therope. The man might pretend to look at the weather, which was fine; orhe might affect earnest conversation with a bystander: it was bootless. The pony saw through it. No feint hoodwinked him. This animal wasthoroughly a man of the world. His undistracted eye stayed fixed uponthe dissembling foe, and the gravity of his horse-expression made thematter one of high comedy. Then the rope would sail out at him, but hewas already elsewhere; and if horses laugh, gayety must have abounded inthat corral. Sometimes the pony took a turn alone; next he had slid in aflash among his brothers, and the whole of them like a school of playfulfish whipped round the corral, kicking up the fine dust, and (I take it)roaring with laughter. Through the window-glass of our Pullman the thudof their mischievous hoofs reached us, and the strong, humorous cursesof the cow-boys. Then for the first time I noticed a man who sat on thehigh gate of the corral, looking on. For he now climbed down withthe undulations of a tiger, smooth and easy, as if his muscles flowedbeneath his skin. The others had all visibly whirled the rope, some ofthem even shoulder high. I did not see his arm lift or move. He appearedto hold the rope down low, by his leg. But like a sudden snake I saw thenoose go out its length and fall true; and the thing was done. As thecaptured pony walked in with a sweet, church-door expression, our trainmoved slowly on to the station, and a passenger remarked, "That manknows his business. "

But the passenger's dissertation upon roping I was obliged to lose, forMedicine Bow was my station. I bade my fellow-travellers good-by, anddescended, a stranger, into the great cattle land. And here in less thanten minutes I learned news which made me feel a stranger indeed. 

My baggage was lost; it had not come on my train; it was adriftsomewhere back in the two thousand miles that lay behind me. And by wayof comfort, the baggage-man remarked that passengers often got astrayfrom their trunks, but the trunks mostly found them after a while. Having offered me this encouragement, he turned whistling to hisaffairs and left me planted in the baggage-room at Medicine Bow. I stooddeserted among crates and boxes, blankly holding my check, hungry andforlorn. I stared out through the door at the sky and the plains; butI did not see the antelope shining among the sage-brush, nor the greatsunset light of Wyoming. Annoyance blinded my eyes to all things savemy grievance: I saw only a lost trunk. And I was muttering half-aloud, "What a forsaken hole this is!" when suddenly from outside on theplatform came a slow voice: "Off to get married AGAIN? Oh, don't!"

The voice was Southern and gentle and drawling; and a second voice camein immediate answer, cracked and querulous. "It ain't again. Who saysit's again? Who told you, anyway?"

And the first voice responded caressingly: "Why, your Sunday clothestold me, Uncle Hughey. They are speakin' mighty loud o' nuptials. "

"You don't worry me!" snapped Uncle Hughey, with shrill heat. 

And the other gently continued, "Ain't them gloves the same yu' wore toyour last weddin'?"

"You don't worry me! You don't worry me!" now screamed Uncle Hughey. 

Already I had forgotten my trunk; care had left me; I was aware of thesunset, and had no desire but for more of this conversation. For itresembled none that I had heard in my life so far. I stepped to the doorand looked out upon the station platform. 

Lounging there at ease against the wall was a slim young giant, more beautiful than pictures. His broad, soft hat was pushed back; aloose-knotted, dull-scarlet handkerchief sagged from his throat; and onecasual thumb was hooked in the cartridge-belt that slanted across hiships. He had plainly come many miles from somewhere across the vasthorizon, as the dust upon him showed. His boots were white with it. Hisoveralls were gray with it. The weather-beaten bloom of his face shonethrough it duskily, as the ripe peaches look upon their trees in a dryseason. But no dinginess of travel or shabbiness of attire could tarnishthe splendor that radiated from his youth and strength. The old manupon whose temper his remarks were doing such deadly work was combed andcurried to a finish, a bridegroom swept and garnished; but alas for age!Had I been the bride, I should have taken the giant, dust and all. Hehad by no means done with the old man. 

"Why, yu've hung weddin' gyarments on every limb!" he now drawled, withadmiration. "Who is the lucky lady this trip?"

The old man seemed to vibrate. "Tell you there ain't been no other! Callme a Mormon, would you?"

"Why, that--"

"Call me a Mormon? Then name some of my wives. Name two. Name one. Dareyou!"

"--that Laramie wido' promised you--'

"Shucks!"

"--only her doctor suddenly ordered Southern climate and--"

"Shucks! You're a false alarm. "

"--so nothing but her lungs came between you. And next you'd most gotunited with Cattle Kate, only--"

"Tell you you're a false alarm!"

"--only she got hung. "

"Where's the wives in all this? Show the wives! Come now!"

"That corn-fed biscuit-shooter at Rawlins yu' gave the canary--"

"Never married her. Never did marry--"

"But yu' come so near, uncle! She was the one left yu' that letterexplaining how she'd got married to a young cyard-player the very daybefore her ceremony with you was due, and--"

"Oh, you're nothing; you're a kid; you don't amount to--"

"--and how she'd never, never forgot to feed the canary. "

"This country's getting full of kids, " stated the old man, witheringly. "It's doomed. " This crushing assertion plainly satisfied him. And heblinked his eyes with renewed anticipation. His tall tormentor continuedwith a face of unchanging gravity, and a voice of gentle solicitude:"How is the health of that unfortunate--"

"That's right! Pour your insults! Pour 'em on a sick, afflicted woman!"The eyes blinked with combative relish. 

"Insults? Oh, no, Uncle Hughey!"

"That's all right! Insults goes!"

"Why, I was mighty relieved when she began to recover her mem'ry. Las'time I heard, they told me she'd got it pretty near all back. Rememberedher father, and her mother, and her sisters and brothers, and herfriends, and her happy childhood, and all her doin's except only yourface. The boys was bettin' she'd get that far too, give her time. ButI reckon afteh such a turrable sickness as she had, that would beexpectin' most too much. "

At this Uncle Hughey jerked out a small parcel. "Shows how much youknow!" he cackled. "There! See that! That's my ring she sent me back, being too unstrung for marriage. So she don't remember me, don't she?Ha-ha! Always said you were a false alarm. "

The Southerner put more anxiety into his tone. "And so you're a-takin'the ring right on to the next one!" he exclaimed. "Oh, don't go to getmarried again, Uncle Hughey! What's the use o' being married?"

"What's the use?" echoed the bridegroom, with scorn. "Hm! When you growup you'll think different. "

"Course I expect to think different when my age is different. I'm havin'the thoughts proper to twenty-four, and you're havin' the thoughtsproper to sixty. "

"Fifty!" shrieked Uncle Hughey, jumping in the air. 

The Southerner took a tone of self-reproach. "Now, how could I forgetyou was fifty, " he murmured, "when you have been telling it to the boysso careful for the last ten years!"

Have you ever seen a cockatoo--the white kind with the top-knot--enragedby insult? The bird erects every available feather upon its person. So did Uncle Hughey seem to swell, clothes, mustache, and woolly whitebeard; and without further speech he took himself on board the Eastboundtrain, which now arrived from its siding in time to deliver him. 

Yet this was not why he had not gone away before. At any time he couldhave escaped into the baggage-room or withdrawn to a dignified distanceuntil his train should come up. But the old man had evidently got a sortof joy from this teasing. He had reached that inevitable age when we aretickled to be linked with affairs of gallantry, no matter how. 

With him now the Eastbound departed slowly into that distance whenceI had come. I stared after it as it went its way to the far shores ofcivilization. It grew small in the unending gulf of space, until allsign of its presence was gone save a faint skein of smoke against theevening sky. And now my lost trunk came back into my thoughts, andMedicine Bow seemed a lonely spot. A sort of ship had left me maroonedin a foreign ocean; the Pullman was comfortably steaming home to port, while I--how was I to find Judge Henry's ranch? Where in this unfeaturedwilderness was Sunk Creek? No creek or any water at all flowed here thatI could perceive. My host had written he should meet me at the stationand drive me to his ranch. This was all that I knew. He was not here. The baggage-man had not seen him lately. The ranch was almost certainto be too far to walk to, to-night. My trunk--I discovered myself stillstaring dolefully after the vanished East-bound; and at the same instantI became aware that the tall man was looking gravely at me, --asgravely as he had looked at Uncle Hughey throughout their remarkableconversation. 

To see his eye thus fixing me and his thumb still hooked in hiscartridge-belt, certain tales of travellers from these parts forcedthemselves disquietingly into my recollection. Now that Uncle Hughey wasgone, was I to take his place and be, for instance, invited to dance onthe platform to the music of shots nicely aimed?

"I reckon I am looking for you, seh, " the tall man now observed. 

II. "WHEN YOU CALL ME THAT, SMILE!"

We cannot see ourselves as other see us, or I should know whatappearance I cut at hearing this from the tall man. I said nothing, feeling uncertain. 

"I reckon I am looking for you, seh, " he repeated politely. 

"I am looking for Judge Henry, " I now replied. 

He walked toward me, and I saw that in inches he was not a giant. He wasnot more than six feet. It was Uncle Hughey that had made him seem totower. But in his eye, in his face, in his step, in the whole man, there dominated a something potent to be felt, I should think, by man orwoman. 

"The Judge sent me afteh you, seh, " he now explained, in his civilSouthern voice; and he handed me a letter from my host. Had I notwitnessed his facetious performances with Uncle Hughey, I should havejudged him wholly ungifted with such powers. There was nothing externalabout him but what seemed the signs of a nature as grave as you couldmeet. But I had witnessed; and therefore supposing that I knew him inspite of his appearance, that I was, so to speak, in his secret andcould give him a sort of wink, I adopted at once a method of easiness. It was so pleasant to be easy with a large stranger, who instead ofshooting at your heels had very civilly handed you a letter. 

"You're from old Virginia, I take it?" I began. 

He answered slowly, "Then you have taken it correct, seh. "

A slight chill passed over my easiness, but I went cheerily on with afurther inquiry. "Find many oddities out here like Uncle Hughey?"

"Yes, seh, there is a right smart of oddities around. They come in onevery train. "

At this point I dropped my method of easiness. 

"I wish that trunks came on the train, " said I. And I told him mypredicament. 

It was not to be expected that he would be greatly moved at my loss; buthe took it with no comment whatever. "We'll wait in town for it, " saidhe, always perfectly civil. 

Now, what I had seen of "town" was, to my newly arrived eyes, altogetherhorrible. If I could possibly sleep at the Judge's ranch, I preferred todo so. 

"Is it too far to drive there to-night?" I inquired. 

He looked at me in a puzzled manner. 

"For this valise, " I explained, "contains all that I immediately need;in fact, I could do without my trunk for a day or two, if it is notconvenient to send. So if we could arrive there not too late by startingat once--" I paused. 

"It's two hundred and sixty-three miles, " said the Virginian. 

To my loud ejaculation he made no answer, but surveyed me a momentlonger, and then said, "Supper will be about ready now. " He took myvalise, and I followed his steps toward the eating-house in silence. Iwas dazed. 

As we went, I read my host's letter--a brief hospitable message. He wasvery sorry not to meet me himself. He had been getting ready to driveover, when the surveyor appeared and detained him. Therefore in hisstead he was sending a trustworthy man to town, who would look afterme and drive me over. They were looking forward to my visit with muchpleasure. This was all. 

Yes, I was dazed. How did they count distance in this country? You spokein a neighborly fashion about driving over to town, and it meant--Idid not know yet how many days. And what would be meant by the term"dropping in, " I wondered. And how many miles would be considered reallyfar? I abstained from further questioning the "trustworthy man. " Myquestions had not fared excessively well. He did not propose making medance, to be sure: that would scarcely be trustworthy. But neither didhe propose to have me familiar with him. Why was this? What had I doneto elicit that veiled and skilful sarcasm about oddities coming in onevery train? Having been sent to look after me, he would do so, would even carry my valise; but I could not be jocular with him. Thishandsome, ungrammatical son of the soil had set between us the bar ofhis cold and perfect civility. No polished person could have done itbetter. What was the matter? I looked at him, and suddenly it came tome. If he had tried familiarity with me the first two minutes of ouracquaintance, I should have resented it; by what right, then, had Itried it with him? It smacked of patronizing: on this occasion he hadcome off the better gentleman of the two. Here in flesh and blood wasa truth which I had long believed in words, but never met before. Thecreature we call a GENTLEMAN lies deep in the hearts of thousands thatare born without chance to master the outward graces of the type. 

Between the station and the eating-house I did a deal of straightthinking. But my thoughts were destined presently to be drowned inamazement at the rare personage into whose society fate had thrown me. 

Town, as they called it, pleased me the less, the longer I saw it. Butuntil our language stretches itself and takes in a new word of closerfit, town will have to do for the name of such a place as was MedicineBow. I have seen and slept in many like it since. Scattered wide, theylittered the frontier from the Columbia to the Rio Grande, from theMissouri to the Sierras. They lay stark, dotted over a planet oftreeless dust, like soiled packs of cards. Each was similar to the next, as one old five-spot of clubs resembles another. Houses, empty bottles, and garbage, they were forever of the same shapeless pattern. Moreforlorn they were than stale bones. They seemed to have been strewnthere by the wind and to be waiting till the wind should come again andblow them away. Yet serene above their foulness swam a pure and quietlight, such as the East never sees; they might be bathing in the air ofcreation's first morning. Beneath sun and stars their days and nightswere immaculate and wonderful. 

Medicine Bow was my first, and I took its dimensions, twenty-ninebuildings in all, --one coal shute, one water tank, the station, onestore, two eating-houses, one billiard hall, two tool-houses, one feedstable, and twelve others that for one reason and another I shall notname. Yet this wretched husk of squalor spent thought upon appearances;many houses in it wore a false front to seem as if they were two storieshigh. There they stood, rearing their pitiful masquerade amid a fringeof old tin cans, while at their very doors began a world of crystallight, a land without end, a space across which Noah and Adam might comestraight from Genesis. Into that space went wandering a road, over ahill and down out of sight, and up again smaller in the distance, anddown once more, and up once more, straining the eyes, and so away. 

Then I heard a fellow greet my Virginian. He came rollicking out ofa door, and made a pass with his hand at the Virginian's hat. TheSoutherner dodged it, and I saw once more the tiger undulation of body, and knew my escort was he of the rope and the corral. 

"How are yu' Steve?" he said to the rollicking man. And in his tone Iheard instantly old friendship speaking. With Steve he would take andgive familiarity. 

Steve looked at me, and looked away--and that was all. But it wasenough. In no company had I ever felt so much an outsider. Yet I likedthe company, and wished that it would like me. 

"Just come to town?" inquired Steve of the Virginian. 

"Been here since noon. Been waiting for the train. "

"Going out to-night?"

"I reckon I'll pull out to-morro'. "

"Beds are all took, " said Steve. This was for my benefit. 

"Dear me, " said I. 

"But I guess one of them drummers will let yu' double up with him. "Steve was enjoying himself, I think. He had his saddle and blankets, andbeds were nothing to him. 

"Drummers, are they?" asked the Virginian. 

"Two Jews handling cigars, one American with consumption killer, and aDutchman with jew'lry. "

The Virginian set down my valise, and seemed to meditate. "I did want abed to-night, " he murmured gently. 

"Well, " Steve suggested, "the American looks like he washed theoftenest. "

"That's of no consequence to me, " observed the Southerner. 

"Guess it'll be when yu' see 'em. "

"Oh, I'm meaning something different. I wanted a bed to myself. "

"Then you'll have to build one. "

"Bet yu' I have the Dutchman's. "

"Take a man that won't scare. Bet yu' drinks yu' can't have theAmerican's. "

"Go yu'" said the Virginian. "I'll have his bed without any fuss. Drinksfor the crowd. "

"I suppose you have me beat, " said Steve, grinning at himaffectionately. "You're such a son-of-a---- when you get down to work. Well, so long! I got to fix my horse's hoofs. "

I had expected that the man would be struck down. He had used to theVirginian a term of heaviest insult, I thought. I had marvelled to hearit come so unheralded from Steve's friendly lips. And now I marvelledstill more. Evidently he had meant no harm by it, and evidentlyno offence had been taken. Used thus, this language was plainlycomplimentary. I had stepped into a world new to me indeed, andnovelties were occurring with scarce any time to get breath betweenthem. As to where I should sleep, I had forgotten that problemaltogether in my curiosity. What was the Virginian going to do now? Ibegan to know that the quiet of this man was volcanic. 

"Will you wash first, sir?"

We were at the door of the eating-house, and he set my valise inside. In my tenderfoot innocence I was looking indoors for the washingarrangements. 

"It's out hyeh, seh, " he informed me gravely, but with strong Southernaccent. Internal mirth seemed often to heighten the local flavor of hisspeech. There were other times when it had scarce any special accent orfault in grammar. 

A trough was to my right, slippery with soapy water; and hanging froma roller above one end of it was a rag of discouraging appearance. TheVirginian caught it, and it performed one whirling revolution on itsroller. Not a dry or clean inch could be found on it. He took off hishat, and put his head in the door. 

"Your towel, ma'am, " said he, "has been too popular. "

She came out, a pretty woman. Her eyes rested upon him for a moment, then upon me with disfavor; then they returned to his black hair. 

"The allowance is one a day, " said she, very quietly. "But when folksare particular--" She completed her sentence by removing the old toweland giving a clean one to us. 

"Thank you, ma'am, " said the cow-puncher. 

She looked once more at his black hair, and without any word returned toher guests at supper. 

A pail stood in the trough, almost empty; and this he filled for me froma well. There was some soap sliding at large in the trough, but I got myown. And then in a tin basin I removed as many of the stains of travelas I was able. It was not much of a toilet that I made in this firstwash-trough of my experience, but it had to suffice, and I took my seatat supper. 

Canned stuff it was, --corned beef. And one of my table companions saidthe truth about it. "When I slung my teeth over that, " he remarked, "Ithought I was chewing a hammock. " We had strange coffee, and condensedmilk; and I have never seen more flies. I made no attempt to talk, for no one in this country seemed favorable to me. By reason ofsomething, --my clothes, my hat, my pronunciation, whatever it might be, I possessed the secret of estranging people at sight. Yet I was doingbetter than I knew; my strict silence and attention to the corned beefmade me in the eyes of the cow-boys at table compare well with theover-talkative commercial travellers. 

The Virginian's entrance produced a slight silence. He had done wonderswith the wash-trough, and he had somehow brushed his clothes. With allthe roughness of his dress, he was now the neatest of us. He nodded tosome of the other cow-boys, and began his meal in quiet. 

But silence is not the native element of the drummer. An average fishcan go a longer time out of water than this breed can live withouttalking. One of them now looked across the table at the grave, flannel-shirted Virginian; he inspected, and came to the imprudentconclusion that he understood his man. 

"Good evening, " he said briskly. 

"Good evening, " said the Virginian. 

"Just come to town?" pursued the drummer. 

"Just come to town, " the Virginian suavely assented. 

"Cattle business jumping along?" inquired the drummer. 

"Oh, fair. " And the Virginian took some more corned beef. 

"Gets a move on your appetite, anyway, " suggested the drummer. 

The Virginian drank some coffee. Presently the pretty woman refilled hiscup without his asking her. 

"Guess I've met you before, " the drummer stated next. 

The Virginian glanced at him for a brief moment. 

"Haven't I, now? Ain't I seen you somewhere? Look at me. You been inChicago, ain't you? You look at me well. Remember Ikey's, don't you?"

"I don't reckon I do. "

"See, now! I knowed you'd been in Chicago. Four or five years ago. Ormaybe it's two years. Time's nothing to me. But I never forget a face. Yes, sir. Him and me's met at Ikey's, all right. " This important pointthe drummer stated to all of us. We were called to witness how well hehad proved old acquaintanceship. "Ain't the world small, though!" heexclaimed complacently. "Meet a man once and you're sure to run on tohim again. That's straight. That's no bar-room josh. " And the drummer'seye included us all in his confidence. I wondered if he had attainedthat high perfection when a man believes his own lies. 

The Virginian did not seem interested. He placidly attended to hisfood, while our landlady moved between dining room and kitchen, and thedrummer expanded. 

"Yes, sir! Ikey's over by the stock-yards, patronized by all cattle-menthat know what's what. That's where. Maybe it's three years. Time neverwas nothing to me. But faces! Why, I can't quit 'em. Adults or children, male and female; onced I seen 'em I couldn't lose one off my memory, notif you were to pay me bounty, five dollars a face. White men, that is. Can't do nothing with niggers or Chinese. But you're white, allright. " The drummer suddenly returned to the Virginian with this highcompliment. The cow-puncher had taken out a pipe, and was slowly rubbingit. The compliment seemed to escape his attention, and the drummer wenton. 

"I can tell a man when he's white, put him at Ikey's or out loose herein the sage-brush. " And he rolled a cigar across to the Virginian'splate. 

"Selling them?" inquired the Virginian. 

"Solid goods, my friend. Havana wrappers, the biggest tobaccoproposition for five cents got out yet. Take it, try it, light it, watchit burn. Here. " And he held out a bunch of matches. 

The Virginian tossed a five-cent piece over to him. 

"Oh, no, my friend! Not from you! Not after Ikey's. I don't forget you. See? I knowed your face right away. See? That's straight. I seen you atChicago all right. "

"Maybe you did, " said the Virginian. "Sometimes I'm mighty careless whatI look at. "

"Well, py damn!" now exclaimed the Dutch drummer, hilariously. "I amploom disappointed. I vas hoping to sell him somedings myself. "

"Not the same here, " stated the American. "He's too healthy for me. Igave him up on sight. "

Now it was the American drummer whose bed the Virginian had in his eye. This was a sensible man, and had talked less than his brothers in thetrade. I had little doubt who would end by sleeping in his bed; but howthe thing would be done interested me more deeply than ever. 

The Virginian looked amiably at his intended victim, and made one or tworemarks regarding patent medicines. There must be a good deal of moneyin them, he supposed, with a live man to manage them. The victim wasflattered. No other person at the table had been favored with so muchof the tall cow-puncher's notice. He responded, and they had a pleasanttalk. I did not divine that the Virginian's genius was even then atwork, and that all this was part of his satanic strategy. But Steve musthave divined it. For while a few of us still sat finishing our supper, that facetious horseman returned from doctoring his horse's hoofs, puthis head into the dining room, took in the way in which the Virginianwas engaging his victim in conversation, remarked aloud, "I've lost!"and closed the door again. 

"What's he lost?" inquired the American drummer. 

"Oh, you mustn't mind him, " drawled the Virginian. "He's one of thosebox-head jokers goes around openin' and shuttin' doors that-a-way. Wecall him harmless. Well, " he broke off, "I reckon I'll go smoke. Notallowed in hyeh?" This last he addressed to the landlady, with especialgentleness. She shook her head, and her eyes followed him as he wentout. 

Left to myself I meditated for some time upon my lodging for the night, and smoked a cigar for consolation as I walked about. It was not a hotelthat we had supped in. Hotel at Medicine Bow there appeared to be none. But connected with the eating-house was that place where, accordingto Steve, the beds were all taken, and there I went to see for myself. Steve had spoken the truth. It was a single apartment containing four orfive beds, and nothing else whatever. And when I looked at these beds, my sorrow that I could sleep in none of them grew less. To be alone inone offered no temptation, and as for this courtesy of the country, thisdoubling up--!

"Well, they have got ahead of us. " This was the Virginian standing at myelbow. 

I assented. 

"They have staked out their claims, " he added. 

In this public sleeping room they had done what one does to secure aseat in a railroad train. Upon each bed, as notice of occupancy, laysome article of travel or of dress. As we stood there, the two Jews camein and opened and arranged their valises, and folded and refolded theirlinen dusters. Then a railroad employee entered and began to go to bedat this hour, before dusk had wholly darkened into night. For him, goingto bed meant removing his boots and placing his overalls and waistcoatbeneath his pillow. He had no coat. His work began at three in themorning; and even as we still talked he began to snore. 

"The man that keeps the store is a friend of mine, " said the Virginian;"and you can be pretty near comfortable on his counter. Got anyBlankets?"

I had no blankets. 

"Looking for a bed?" inquired the American drummer, now arriving. 

"Yes, he's looking for a bed, " answered the voice of Steve behind him. 

"Seems a waste of time, " observed the Virginian. He looked thoughtfullyfrom one bed to another. "I didn't know I'd have to lay over here. Well, I have sat up before. "

"This one's mine, " said the drummer, sitting down on it. "Half's plentyenough room for me. "

"You're cert'nly mighty kind, " said the cowpuncher. "But I'd not thinko' disconveniencing yu'. "

"That's nothing. The other half is yours. Turn in right now if you feellike it. "

"No. I don't reckon I'll turn in right now. Better keep your bed toyourself. "

"See here, " urged the drummer, "if I take you I'm safe from drawing someparty I might not care so much about. This here sleeping proposition isa lottery. "

"Well, " said the Virginian (and his hesitation was truly masterly), "ifyou put it that way--"

"I do put it that way. Why, you're clean! You've had a shave right now. You turn in when you feel inclined, old man! I ain't retiring just yet. "

The drummer had struck a slightly false note in these last remarks. Heshould not have said "old man. " Until this I had thought him merely anamiable person who wished to do a favor. But "old man" came in wrong. It had a hateful taint of his profession; the being too soon witheverybody, the celluloid good-fellowship that passes for ivory with ninein ten of the city crowd. But not so with the sons of the sagebrush. They live nearer nature, and they know better. 

But the Virginian blandly accepted "old man" from his victim: he had agame to play. "Well, I cert'nly thank yu', " he said. "After a while I'lltake advantage of your kind offer. "

I was surprised. Possession being nine points of the law, it seemedhis very chance to intrench himself in the bed. But the cow-puncherhad planned a campaign needing no intrenchments. Moreover, going to bedbefore nine o'clock upon the first evening in many weeks that a town'sresources were open to you, would be a dull proceeding. Our entirecompany, drummer and all, now walked over to the store, and here mysleeping arrangements were made easily. This store was the cleanestplace and the best in Medicine Bow, and would have been a good storeanywhere, offering a multitude of things for sale, and kept by a verycivil proprietor. He bade me make myself at home, and placed both of hiscounters at my disposal. Upon the grocery side there stood a cheese toolarge and strong to sleep near comfortably, and I therefore chose thedry-goods side. Here thick quilts were unrolled for me, to make it soft;and no condition was placed upon me, further than that I should removemy boots, because the quilts were new, and clean, and for sale. Sonow my rest was assured. Not an anxiety remained in my thoughts. Thesetherefore turned themselves wholly to the other man's bed, and how hewas going to lose it. 

I think that Steve was more curious even than myself. Time was on thewing. His bet must be decided, and the drinks enjoyed. He stood againstthe grocery counter, contemplating the Virginian. But it was to me thathe spoke. The Virginian, however, listened to every word. 

"Your first visit to this country?"

I told him yes. 

"How do you like it?"

I expected to like it very much. 

"How does the climate strike you?"

I thought the climate was fine. 

"Makes a man thirsty though. "

This was the sub-current which the Virginian plainly looked for. But he, like Steve, addressed himself to me. 

"Yes, " he put in, "thirsty while a man's soft yet. You'll harden. "

"I guess you'll find it a drier country than you were given to expect, "said Steve. 

"If your habits have been frequent that way, " said the Virginian. 

"There's parts of Wyoming, " pursued Steve, "where you'll go hours andhours before you'll see a drop of wetness. "

"And if yu' keep a-thinkin' about it, " said the Virginian, "it'll seemlike days and days. "

Steve, at this stroke, gave up, and clapped him on the shoulder with ajoyous chuckle. "You old son-of-a!" he cried affectionately. 

"Drinks are due now, " said the Virginian. "My treat, Steve. But I reckonyour suspense will have to linger a while yet. "

Thus they dropped into direct talk from that speech of the fourthdimension where they had been using me for their telephone. 

"Any cyards going to-night?" inquired the Virginian. 

"Stud and draw, " Steve told him. "Strangers playing. "

"I think I'd like to get into a game for a while, " said the Southerner. "Strangers, yu' say?"

And then, before quitting the store, he made his toilet for this littlehand at poker. It was a simple preparation. He took his pistol from itsholster, examined it, then shoved it between his overalls and his shirtin front, and pulled his waistcoat over it. He might have been combinghis hair for all the attention any one paid to this, except myself. Thenthe two friends went out, and I bethought me of that epithet whichSteve again had used to the Virginian as he clapped him on the shoulder. Clearly this wild country spoke a language other than mine--the wordhere was a term of endearment. Such was my conclusion. 

The drummers had finished their dealings with the proprietor, and theywere gossiping together in a knot by the door as the Virginian passedout. 

"See you later, old man!" This was the American drummer accosting hisprospective bed-fellow. 

"Oh, yes, " returned the bed-fellow, and was gone. 

The American drummer winked triumphantly at his brethren. "He's allright, " he observed, jerking a thumb after the Virginian. "He's easy. You got to know him to work him. That's all. "

"Und vat is your point?" inquired the German drummer. 

"Point is--he'll not take any goods off you or me; but he's going totalk up the killer to any consumptive he runs across. I ain't done withhim yet. Say, " (he now addressed the proprietor), "what's her name?"

"Whose name?"

"Woman runs the eating-house. "

"Glen. Mrs. Glen. "

"Ain't she new?"

"Been settled here about a month. Husband's a freight conductor. "

"Thought I'd not seen her before. She's a good-looker. "

"Hm! Yes. The kind of good looks I'd sooner see in another man's wifethan mine. "

"So that's the gait, is it?"

"Hm! well, it don't seem to be. She come here with that reputation. Butthere's been general disappointment. "

"Then she ain't lacked suitors any?"

"Lacked! Are you acquainted with cow-boys?"

"And she disappointed 'em? Maybe she likes her husband?"

"Hm! well, how are you to tell about them silent kind?"

"Talking of conductors, " began the drummer. And we listened to hisanecdote. It was successful with his audience; but when he launchedfluently upon a second I strolled out. There was not enough wit inthis narrator to relieve his indecency, and I felt shame at having beensurprised into laughing with him. 

I left that company growing confidential over their leering stories, and I sought the saloon. It was very quiet and orderly. Beer in quartbottles at a dollar I had never met before; but saving its price, Ifound no complaint to make of it. Through folding doors I passed fromthe bar proper with its bottles and elk head back to the hall with itsvarious tables. I saw a man sliding cards from a case, and across thetable from him another man laying counters down. Near by was a seconddealer pulling cards from the bottom of a pack, and opposite him asolemn old rustic piling and changing coins upon the cards which layalready exposed. 

But now I heard a voice that drew my eyes to the far corner of the room. 

"Why didn't you stay in Arizona?"

Harmless looking words as I write them down here. Yet at the sound ofthem I noticed the eyes of the others directed to that corner. Whatanswer was given to them I did not hear, nor did I see who spoke. Thencame another remark. 

"Well, Arizona's no place for amatures. "

This time the two card dealers that I stood near began to give a part oftheir attention to the group that sat in the corner. There was in me adesire to leave this room. So far my hours at Medicine Bow had seemedto glide beneath a sunshine of merriment, of easy-going jocularity. Thiswas suddenly gone, like the wind changing to north in the middle of awarm day. But I stayed, being ashamed to go. 

Five or six players sat over in the corner at a round table wherecounters were piled. Their eyes were close upon their cards, and oneseemed to be dealing a card at a time to each, with pauses and bettingbetween. Steve was there and the Virginian; the others were new faces. 

"No place for amatures, " repeated the voice; and now I saw that it wasthe dealer's. There was in his countenance the same ugliness that hiswords conveyed. 

"Who's that talkin'?" said one of the men near me, in a low voice. 

"Trampas. "

"What's he?"

"Cow-puncher, bronco-buster, tin-horn, most anything. "

"Who's he talkin' at?"

"Think it's the black-headed guy he's talking at. "

"That ain't supposed to be safe, is it?"

"Guess we're all goin' to find out in a few minutes. "

"Been trouble between 'em?"

"They've not met before. Trampas don't enjoy losin' to a stranger. "

"Fello's from Arizona, yu' say?"

"No. Virginia. He's recently back from havin' a look at Arizona. Wentdown there last year for a change. Works for the Sunk Creek outfit. " Andthen the dealer lowered his voice still further and said somethingin the other man's ear, causing him to grin. After which both of themlooked at me. 

There had been silence over in the corner; but now the man Trampas spokeagain. 

"AND ten, " said he, sliding out some chips from before him. Very strangeit was to hear him, how he contrived to make those words a personaltaunt. The Virginian was looking at his cards. He might have been deaf. 

"AND twenty, " said the next player, easily. 

The next threw his cards down. 

It was now the Virginian's turn to bet, or leave the game, and he didnot speak at once. 

Therefore Trampas spoke. "Your bet, you son-of-a--. "

The Virginian's pistol came out, and his hand lay on the table, holdingit unaimed. And with a voice as gentle as ever, the voice that soundedalmost like a caress, but drawling a very little more than usual, sothat there was almost a space between each word, he issued his ordersto the man Trampas: "When you call me that, SMILE. " And he looked atTrampas across the table. 

Yes, the voice was gentle. But in my ears it seemed as if somewhere thebell of death was ringing; and silence, like a stroke, fell on the largeroom. All men present, as if by some magnetic current, had become awareof this crisis. In my ignorance, and the total stoppage of my thoughts, I stood stock-still, and noticed various people crouching, or shiftingtheir positions. 

"Sit quiet, " said the dealer, scornfully to the man near me. "Can't yousee he don't want to push trouble? He has handed Trampas the choice toback down or draw his steel. "

Then, with equal suddenness and ease, the room came out of itsstrangeness. Voices and cards, the click of chips, the puff of tobacco, glasses lifted to drink, --this level of smooth relaxation hinted no moreplainly of what lay beneath than does the surface tell the depth of thesea. 

For Trampas had made his choice. And that choice was not to "draw hissteel. " If it was knowledge that he sought, he had found it, and nomistake! We heard no further reference to what he had been pleasedto style "amatures. " In no company would the black-headed man who hadvisited Arizona be rated a novice at the cool art of self-preservation. 

One doubt remained: what kind of a man was Trampas? A public back-downis an unfinished thing, --for some natures at least. I looked at hisface, and thought it sullen, but tricky rather than courageous. 

Something had been added to my knowledge also. Once again I had heardapplied to the Virginian that epithet which Steve so freely used. Thesame words, identical to the letter. But this time they had produced apistol. "When you call me that, SMILE!" So I perceived a new example ofthe old truth, that the letter means nothing until the spirit gives itlife. 

III. STEVE TREATS

It was for several minutes, I suppose, that I stood drawing these silentmorals. No man occupied himself with me. Quiet voices, and games ofchance, and glasses lifted to drink, continued to be the peaceful orderof the night. And into my thoughts broke the voice of that card-dealerwho had already spoken so sagely. He also took his turn at moralizing. 

"What did I tell you?" he remarked to the man for whom he continued todeal, and who continued to lose money to him. 

"Tell me when?"

"Didn't I tell you he'd not shoot?" the dealer pursued with complacence. "You got ready to dodge. You had no call to be concerned. He's not thekind a man need feel anxious about. "

The player looked over at the Virginian, doubtfully. "Well, " he said, "Idon't know what you folks call a dangerous man. "

"Not him!" exclaimed the dealer with admiration. "He's a brave man. That's different. "

The player seemed to follow this reasoning no better than I did. 

"It's not a brave man that's dangerous, " continued the dealer. "It's thecowards that scare me. " He paused that this might sink home. 

"Fello' came in here las' Toosday, " he went on. "He got into somemisunderstanding about the drinks. Well, sir, before we could put himout of business, he'd hurt two perfectly innocent onlookers. They'd nomore to do with it than you have, " the dealer explained to me. 

"Were they badly hurt?" I asked. 

"One of 'em was. He's died since. "

"What became of the man?"

"Why, we put him out of business, I told you. He died that night. Butthere was no occasion for any of it; and that's why I never like tobe around where there's a coward. You can't tell. He'll always go toshooting before it's necessary, and there's no security who he'llhit. But a man like that black-headed guy is (the dealer indicated theVirginian) need never worry you. And there's another point why there'sno need to worry about him: IT'D BE TOO LATE. "

These good words ended the moralizing of the dealer. He had given usa piece of his mind. He now gave the whole of it to dealing cards. I loitered here and there, neither welcome nor unwelcome at present, watching the cow-boys at their play. Saving Trampas, there was scarcea face among them that had not in it something very likable. Here werelusty horsemen ridden from the heat of the sun, and the wet of thestorm, to divert themselves awhile. Youth untamed sat here for an idlemoment, spending easily its hard-earned wages. City saloons rose intomy vision, and I instantly preferred this Rocky Mountain place. Moreof death it undoubtedly saw, but less of vice, than did its New Yorkequivalents. 

And death is a thing much cleaner than vice. Moreover, it was by nomeans vice that was written upon these wild and manly faces. Even wherebaseness was visible, baseness was not uppermost. Daring, laughter, endurance--these were what I saw upon the countenances of the cow-boys. And this very first day of my knowledge of them marks a date with me. For something about them, and the idea of them, smote my American heart, and I have never forgotten it, nor ever shall, as long as I live. Intheir flesh our natural passions ran tumultuous; but often in theirspirit sat hidden a true nobility, and often beneath its unexpectedshining their figures took on heroic stature. 

The dealer had styled the Virginian "a black-headed guy. " This did wellenough as an unflattered portrait. Judge Henry's trustworthy man, withwhom I was to drive two hundred and sixty-three miles, certainly had avery black head of hair. It was the first thing to notice now, if oneglanced generally at the table where he sat at cards. But the eye cameback to him--drawn by that inexpressible something which had led thedealer to speak so much at length about him. 

Still, "black-headed guy" justly fits him and his next performance. Hehad made his plan for this like a true and (I must say) inspired devil. And now the highly appreciative town of Medicine Bow was to be treatedto a manifestation of genius. 

He sat playing his stud-poker. After a decent period of losing andwinning, which gave Trampas all proper time for a change of luck anda repairing of his fortunes, he looked at Steve and said amiably: "Howdoes bed strike you?"

I was beside their table, learning gradually that stud-poker has init more of what I will call red pepper than has our Eastern game. TheVirginian followed his own question: "Bed strikes me, " he stated. 

Steve feigned indifference. He was far more deeply absorbed in his betand the American drummer than he was in this game; but he chose to takeout a fat, florid gold watch, consult it elaborately, and remark, "It'sonly eleven. "

"Yu' forget I'm from the country, " said the black-headed guy. "Thechickens have been roostin' a right smart while. "

His sunny Southern accent was again strong. In that brief passage withTrampas it had been almost wholly absent. But different moods of thespirit bring different qualities of utterance--where a man comes bythese naturally. The Virginian cashed in his checks. 

"Awhile ago, " said Steve, "you had won three months' salary. "

"I'm still twenty dollars to the good, " said the Virginian. "That'sbetter than breaking a laig. "

Again, in some voiceless, masonic way, most people in that saloon hadbecome aware that something was in process of happening. Several lefttheir games and came to the front by the bar. 

"If he ain't in bed yet--" mused the Virginian. 

"I'll find out, " said I. And I hurried across to the dim sleeping room, happy to have a part in this. 

They were all in bed; and in some beds two were sleeping. How they coulddo it--but in those days I was fastidious. The American had come inrecently and was still awake. 

"Thought you were to sleep at the store?" said he. 

So then I invented a little lie, and explained that I was in search ofthe Virginian. 

"Better search the dives, " said he. "These cow-boys don't get to townoften. "

At this point I stumbled sharply over something. 

"It's my box of Consumption Killer, " explained the drummer; "Well, Ihope that man will stay out all night. "

"Bed narrow?" I inquired. 

"For two it is. And the pillows are mean. Takes both before you feelanything's under your head. "

He yawned, and I wished him pleasant dreams. 

At my news the Virginian left the bar at once; and crossed to thesleeping room. Steve and I followed softly, and behind us severalmore strung out in an expectant line. "What is this going to be?" theyinquired curiously of each other. And upon learning the great noveltyof the event, they clustered with silence intense outside the door wherethe Virginian had gone in. 

We heard the voice of the drummer, cautioning his bed-fellow. "Don'ttrip over the Killer, " he was saying. "The Prince of Wales barked hisshin just now. " It seemed my English clothes had earned me this title. 

The boots of the Virginian were next heard to drop. 

"Can yu' make out what he's at?" whispered Steve. 

He was plainly undressing. The rip of swift unbuttoning told us that theblack-headed guy must now be removing his overalls. 

"Why, thank yu', no, " he was replying to a question of the drummer. "Outside or in's all one to me. "

"Then, if you'd just as soon take the wall--"

"Why, cert'nly. " There was a sound of bedclothes, and creaking. "This hyeh pillo' needs a Southern climate, " was the Virginian's nextobservation. 

Many listeners had now gathered at the door. The dealer and the playerwere both here. The storekeeper was present, and I recognized the agentof the Union Pacific Railroad among the crowd. We made a large company, and I felt that trembling sensation which is common when the cap of acamera is about to be removed upon a group. 

"I should think, " said the drummer's voice, "that you'd feel your knifeand gun clean through that pillow. "

"I do, " responded the Virginian. 

"I should think you'd put them on a chair and be comfortable. "

"I'd be uncomfortable, then. "

"Used to the feel of them, I suppose?"

"That's it. Used to the feel of them. I would miss them, and that wouldmake me wakeful. "

"Well, good night. "

"Good night. If I get to talkin' and tossin', or what not, you'llunderstand you're to--"

"Yes, I'll wake you. "

"No, don't yu', for God's sake!"

"Not?"

"Don't yu' touch me. "

"What'll I do?"

"Roll away quick to your side. It don't last but a minute. " TheVirginian spoke with a reassuring drawl. 

Upon this there fell a brief silence, and I heard the drummer clear histhroat once or twice. 

"It's merely the nightmare, I suppose?" he said after a throat clearing. 

"Lord, yes. That's all. And don't happen twice a year. Was you thinkin'it was fits?"

"Oh, no! I just wanted to know. I've been told before that it was notsafe for a person to be waked suddenly that way out of a nightmare. "

"Yes, I have heard that too. But it never harms me any. I didn't wantyou to run risks. "

"Me?"

"Oh, it'll be all right now that yu' know how it is. " The Virginian'sdrawl was full of assurance. 

There was a second pause, after which the drummer said. 

"Tell me again how it is. "

The Virginian answered very drowsily: "Oh, just don't let your arm oryour laig touch me if I go to jumpin' around. I'm dreamin' of Indianswhen I do that. And if anything touches me then, I'm liable to grab myknife right in my sleep. "

"Oh, I understand, " said the drummer, clearing his throat. "Yes. "

Steve was whispering delighted oaths to himself, and in his joy applyingto the Virginian one unprintable name after another. 

We listened again, but now no further words came. Listening very hard, I could half make out the progress of a heavy breathing, and a restlessturning I could clearly detect. This was the wretched drummer. He waswaiting. But he did not wait long. Again there was a light creak, andafter it a light step. He was not even going to put his boots on inthe fatal neighborhood of the dreamer. By a happy thought Medicine Bowformed into two lines, making an avenue from the door. And then thecommercial traveller forgot his Consumption Killer. He fell heavily overit. 

Immediately from the bed the Virginian gave forth a dreadful howl. 

And then everything happened at once; and how shall mere words narrateit? The door burst open, and out flew the commercial traveller in hisstockings. One hand held a lump of coat and trousers with suspendersdangling, his boots were clutched in the other. The sight of us stoppedhis flight short. He gazed, the boots fell from his hand; and at hisprofane explosion, Medicine Bow set up a united, unearthly noise andbegan to play Virginia reel with him. The other occupants of the bedshad already sprung out of them, clothed chiefly with their pistols, andready for war. "What is it?" they demanded. "What is it?"

"Why, I reckon it's drinks on Steve, " said the Virginian from his bed. And he gave the first broad grin that I had seen from him. 

"I'll set 'em up all night!" Steve shouted, as the reel went onregardless. The drummer was bawling to be allowed to put at least hisboots on. "This way, Pard, " was the answer; and another man whirled himround. "This way, Beau!" they called to him; "This way, Budd!" andhe was passed like a shuttle-cock down the line. Suddenly the leadersbounded into the sleeping-room. "Feed the machine!" they said. "Feedher!" And seizing the German drummer who sold jewellery, they flung himinto the trough of the reel. I saw him go bouncing like an ear of cornto be shelled, and the dance ingulfed him. I saw a Jew sent rattlingafter him; and next they threw in the railroad employee, and the otherJew; and while I stood mesmerized, my own feet left the earth. I shotfrom the room and sped like a bobbing cork into this mill race, whirlingmy turn in the wake of the others amid cries of, "Here comes the Princeof Wales!" There was soon not much English left about my raiment. 

They were now shouting for music. Medicine Bow swept in like a cloud ofdust to where a fiddler sat playing in a hall; and gathering up fiddlerand dancers, swept out again, a larger Medicine Bow, growing allthe while. Steve offered us the freedom of the house, everywhere. Heimplored us to call for whatever pleased us, and as many times as weshould please. He ordered the town to be searched for more citizens tocome and help him pay his bet. But changing his mind, kegs and bottleswere now carried along with us. We had found three fiddlers, and theseplayed busily for us; and thus we set out to visit all cabins and houseswhere people might still by some miracle be asleep. The first man putout his head to decline. But such a possibility had been foreseen bythe proprietor of the store. This seemingly respectable man now camedragging some sort of apparatus from his place, helped by the Virginian. The cow-boys cheered, for they knew what this was. The man in his windowlikewise recognized it, and uttering a groan, came immediately out andjoined us. What it was, I also learned in a few minutes. For we founda house where the people made no sign at either our fiddlers or ourknocking. And then the infernal machine was set to work. Its partsseemed to be no more than an empty keg and a plank. Some citizeninformed me that I should soon have a new idea of noise; and I nervedmyself for something severe in the way of gunpowder. But the Virginianand the proprietor now sat on the ground holding the keg braced, and twoothers got down apparently to play see-saw over the top of it with theplank. But the keg and plank had been rubbed with rosin, and they drewthe plank back and forth over the keg. Do you know the sound made ina narrow street by a dray loaded with strips of iron? That noise is alullaby compared with the staggering, blinding bellow which rose fromthe keg. If you were to try it in your native town, you would not merelybe arrested, you would be hanged, and everybody would be glad, and theclergyman would not bury you. My head, my teeth, the whole system of mybones leaped and chattered at the din, and out of the house like dropssquirted from a lemon came a man and his wife. No time was given them. They were swept along with the rest; and having been routed from theirown bed, they now became most furious in assailing the remaining homesof Medicine Bow. Everybody was to come out. Many were now riding horsesat top speed out into the plains and back, while the procession of theplank and keg continued its work, and the fiddlers played incessantly. 

Suddenly there was a quiet. I did not see who brought the message; butthe word ran among us that there was a woman--the engineer's womandown by the water-tank--very sick. The doctor had been to see her fromLaramie. Everybody liked the engineer. Plank and keg were heard no more. The horsemen found it out and restrained their gambols. Medicine Bowwent gradually home. I saw doors shutting, and lights go out; I sawa late few reassemble at the card tables, and the drummers gatheredthemselves together for sleep; the proprietor of the store (you couldnot see a more respectable-looking person) hoped that I would becomfortable on the quilts; and I heard Steve urging the Virginian totake one more glass. 

"We've not met for so long, " he said. 

But the Virginian, the black-headed guy who had set all this nonsensegoing, said No to Steve. "I have got to stay responsible, " was hisexcuse to his friend. And the friend looked at me. Therefore I surmisedthat the Judge's trustworthy man found me an embarrassment to hisholiday. But if he did, he never showed it to me. He had been sent tomeet a stranger and drive him to Sunk Creek in safety, and this chargehe would allow no temptation to imperil. He nodded good night to me. "Ifthere's anything I can do for yu', you'll tell me. "

I thanked him. "What a pleasant evening!" I added. 

"I'm glad yu' found it so. "

Again his manner put a bar to my approaches. Even though I had seenhim wildly disporting himself, those were matters which he chose not todiscuss with me. 

Medicine Bow was quiet as I went my way to my quilts. So still, thatthrough the air the deep whistles of the freight trains came from belowthe horizon across great miles of silence. I passed cow-boys, whom halfan hour before I had seen prancing and roaring, now rolled in theirblankets beneath the open and shining night. 

"What world am I in?" I said aloud. "Does this same planet hold FifthAvenue?"

And I went to sleep, pondering over my native land. 

IV. DEEP INTO CATTLE LAND

Morning had been for some while astir in Medicine Bow before I left myquilts. The new day and its doings began around me in the store, chieflyat the grocery counter. Dry-goods were not in great request. The earlyrising cow-boys were off again to their work; and those to whom theirnight's holiday had left any dollars were spending these for tobacco, orcartridges, or canned provisions for the journey to their distantcamps. Sardines were called for, and potted chicken, and devilled ham:a sophisticated nourishment, at first sight, for these sons of thesage-brush. But portable ready-made food plays of necessity a great partin the opening of a new country. These picnic pots and cans were thefirst of her trophies that Civilization dropped upon Wyoming's virginsoil. The cow-boy is now gone to worlds invisible; the wind has blownaway the white ashes of his camp-fires; but the empty sardine box liesrusting over the face of the Western earth. 

So through my eyes half closed I watched the sale of these tins, andgrew familiar with the ham's inevitable trademark--that label with thedevil and his horns and hoofs and tail very pronounced, all colored asultry prodigious scarlet. And when each horseman had made his purchase, he would trail his spurs over the floor, and presently the sound of hishorse's hoofs would be the last of him. Through my dozing attention camevarious fragments of talk, and sometimes useful bits of knowledge. Forinstance, I learned the true value of tomatoes in this country. Onefellow was buying two cans of them. 

"Meadow Creek dry already?" commented the proprietor. 

"Been dry ten days, " the young cow-boy informed him. And it appearedthat along the road he was going, water would not be reached much beforesundown, because this Meadow Creek had ceased to run. His tomatoes werefor drink. And thus they have refreshed me many times since. 

"No beer?" suggested the proprietor. 

The boy made a shuddering face. "Don't say its name to me!" heexclaimed. "I couldn't hold my breakfast down. " He rang his silver moneyupon the counter. "I've swore off for three months, " he stated. "I'mgoing to be as pure as the snow!" And away he went jingling out of thedoor, to ride seventy-five miles. Three more months of hard, unshelteredwork, and he would ride into town again, with his adolescent bloodcrying aloud for its own. 

"I'm obliged, " said a new voice, rousing me from a new doze. "She'seasier this morning, since the medicine. " This was the engineer, whosesick wife had brought a hush over Medicine Bow's rioting. "I'll give herthem flowers soon as she wakes, " he added. 

"Flowers?" repeated the proprietor. 

"You didn't leave that bunch at our door?"

"Wish I'd thought to do it. "

"She likes to see flowers, " said the engineer. And he walked out slowly, with his thanks unachieved. He returned at once with the Virginian; forin the band of the Virginian's hat were two or three blossoms. 

"It don't need mentioning, " the Southerner was saying, embarrassed byany expression of thanks. "If we had knowed last night--"

"You didn't disturb her any, " broke in the engineer. "She's easier thismorning. I'll tell her about them flowers. "

"Why, it don't need mentioning, " the Virginian again protested, almostcrossly. "The little things looked kind o' fresh, and I just pickedthem. " His eye now fell upon me, where I lay upon the counter. "I reckonbreakfast will be getting through, " he remarked. 

I was soon at the wash trough. It was only half-past six, but many hadbeen before me, --one glance at the roller-towel told me that. I wasafraid to ask the landlady for a clean one, and so I found a freshhandkerchief, and accomplished a sparing toilet. In the midst of thisthe drummers joined me, one by one, and they used the degraded towelwithout hesitation. In a way they had the best of me; filth was nothingto them. 

The latest risers in Medicine Bow, we sat at breakfast together; andthey essayed some light familiarities with the landlady. But theseexperiments were failures. Her eyes did not see, nor did her earshear them. She brought the coffee and the bacon with a sedateness thatpropriety itself could scarce have surpassed. Yet impropriety lurkednoiselessly all over her. You could not have specified how; it wasinterblended with her sum total. Silence was her apparent habit and herweapon; but the American drummer found that she could speak to the pointwhen need came for this. During the meal he had praised her goldenhair. It was golden indeed, and worth a high compliment; but his kinddispleased her. She had let it pass, however, with no more than a coolstare. But on taking his leave, when he came to pay for the meal, hepushed it too far. 

"Pity this must be our last, " he said; and as it brought no answer, "Ever travel?" he inquired. "Where I go, there's room for a pair of us. "

"Then you'd better find another jackass, " she replied quietly. 

I was glad that I had not asked for a clean towel. 

From the commercial travellers I now separated myself, and wanderedalone in pleasurable aimlessness. It was seven o'clock. MedicineBow stood voiceless and unpeopled. The cow-boys had melted away. Theinhabitants were indoors, pursuing the business or the idleness of theforenoon. Visible motion there was none. No shell upon the dry sandscould lie more lifeless than Medicine Bow. Looking in at the store, I saw the proprietor sitting with his pipe extinct. Looking in at thesaloon, I saw the dealer dealing dumbly to himself. Up in the sky therewas not a cloud nor a bird, and on the earth the lightest strawlay becalmed. Once I saw the Virginian at an open door, where thegolden-haired landlady stood talking with him. Sometimes I strolled inthe town, and sometimes out on the plain I lay down with my day dreamsin the sagebrush. Pale herds of antelope were in the distance, and nearby the demure prairie-dogs sat up and scrutinized me. Steve, Trampas, the riot of horsemen, my lost trunk, Uncle Hughey, with his abortivebrides--all things merged in my thoughts in a huge, deliciousindifference. It was like swimming slowly at random in an ocean that wassmooth, and neither too cool nor too warm. And before I knew it, fivelazy imperceptible hours had gone thus. There was the Union Pacifictrain, coming as if from shores forgotten. 

Its approach was silent and long drawn out. I easily reached town andthe platform before it had finished watering at the tank. It moved up, made a short halt, I saw my trunk come out of it, and then it moved awaysilently as it had come, smoking and dwindling into distance unknown. 

Beside my trunk was one other, tied extravagantly with white ribbon. Thefluttering bows caught my attention, and now I suddenly saw a perfectlynew sight. The Virginian was further down the platform, doubled up withlaughing. It was good to know that with sufficient cause he could laughlike this; a smile had thus far been his limit of external mirth. Rice now flew against my hat, and hissing gusts of rice spouted on theplatform. All the men left in Medicine Bow appeared like magic, and morerice choked the atmosphere. Through the general clamor a cracked voicesaid, "Don't hit her in the eye, boys!" and Uncle Hughey rushed proudlyby me with an actual wife on his arm. She could easily have been hisgranddaughter. They got at once into a vehicle. The trunk was lifted inbehind. And amid cheers, rice, shoes, and broad felicitations, the pairdrove out of town, Uncle Hughey shrieking to the horses and the bridewaving unabashed adieus. 

The word had come over the wires from Laramie: "Uncle Hughey has madeit this time. Expect him on to-day's number two. " And Medicine Bow hadexpected him. 

Many words arose on the departure of the new-married couple. 

"Who's she?"

"What's he got for her?"

"Got a gold mine up Bear Creek. "

And after comment and prophecy, Medicine Bow returned to its dinner. 

This meal was my last here for a long while. The Virginian'sresponsibility now returned; duty drove the Judge's trustworthy manto take care of me again. He had not once sought my society of his ownaccord; his distaste for what he supposed me to be (I don't exactly knowwhat this was) remained unshaken. I have thought that matters of dressand speech should not carry with them so much mistrust in our democracy;thieves are presumed innocent until proved guilty, but a starched collaris condemned at once. Perfect civility and obligingness I certainly didreceive from the Virginian, only not a word of fellowship. He harnessedthe horses, got my trunk, and gave me some advice about takingprovisions for our journey, something more palatable than what food weshould find along the road. It was well thought of, and I bought quite aparcel of dainties, feeling that he would despise both them and me. Andthus I took my seat beside him, wondering what we should manage to talkabout for two hundred and sixty-three miles. 

Farewell in those days was not said in Cattle Land. Acquaintanceswatched our departure with a nod or with nothing, and the nearestapproach to "Good-by" was the proprietor's "So-long. " But I caught sightof one farewell given without words. 

As we drove by the eating-house, the shade of a side window was raised, and the landlady looked her last upon the Virginian. Her lips werefaintly parted, and no woman's eyes ever said more plainly, "I am one ofyour possessions. " She had forgotten that it might be seen. Her glancecaught mine, and she backed into the dimness of the room. What lookshe may have received from him, if he gave her any at this too publicmoment, I could not tell. His eyes seemed to be upon the horses, andhe drove with the same mastering ease that had roped the wild ponyyesterday. We passed the ramparts of Medicine Bow, --thick heaps andfringes of tin cans, and shelving mounds of bottles cast out of thesaloons. The sun struck these at a hundred glittering points. And in amoment we were in the clean plains, with the prairie-dogs and the paleherds of antelope. The great, still air bathed us, pure as water andstrong as wine; the sunlight flooded the world; and shining upon thebreast of the Virginian's flannel shirt lay a long gold thread of hair!The noisy American drummer had met defeat, but this silent free lancehad been easily victorious. 

It must have been five miles that we travelled in silence, losing andseeing the horizon among the ceaseless waves of the earth. Then I lookedback, and there was Medicine Bow, seemingly a stone's throw behindus. It was a full half-hour before I looked back again, and there sureenough was always Medicine Bow. A size or two smaller, I will admit, butvisible in every feature, like something seen through the wrong end ofa field glass. The East-bound express was approaching the town, and Inoticed the white steam from its whistle; but when the sound reached us, the train had almost stopped. And in reply to my comment upon this, theVirginian deigned to remark that it was more so in Arizona. 

"A man come to Arizona, " he said, "with one of them telescopes to studythe heavenly bodies. He was a Yankee, seh, and a right smart one, too. And one night we was watchin' for some little old fallin' stars that hesaid was due, and I saw some lights movin' along across the mesa prettylively, an' I sang out. But he told me it was just the train. And I toldhim I didn't know yu' could see the cyars that plain from his place, 'Yu' can see them, ' he said to me, 'but it is las' night's cyars you'relookin' at. '" At this point the Virginian spoke severely to one of thehorses. "Of course, " he then resumed to me, "that Yankee man did notmean quite all he said. --You, Buck!" he again broke off suddenly tothe horse. "But Arizona, seh, " he continued, "it cert'nly has a mos'deceivin' atmospheah. Another man told me he had seen a lady close oneeye at him when he was two minutes hard run from her. " This time theVirginian gave Buck the whip. 

"What effect, " I inquired with a gravity equal to his own, "does thisextraordinary foreshortening have upon a quart of whiskey?"

"When it's outside yu', seh, no distance looks too far to go to it. "

He glanced at me with an eye that held more confidence than hitherto hehad been able to feel in me. I had made one step in his approval. ButI had many yet to go. This day he preferred his own thoughts to myconversation, and so he did all the days of this first journey; whileI should have greatly preferred his conversation to my thoughts. Hedismissed some attempts that I made upon the subject of Uncle Hughey sothat I had not the courage to touch upon Trampas, and that chill briefcollision which might have struck the spark of death. Trampas! I hadforgotten him till this silent drive I was beginning. I wondered if Ishould ever see him, or Steve, or any of those people again. And thiswonder I expressed aloud. 

"There's no tellin' in this country, " said the Virginian. "Folks comeeasy, and they go easy. In settled places, like back in the States, evena poor man mostly has a home. Don't care if it's only a barrel on a lot, the fello' will keep frequentin' that lot, and if yu' want him yu' canfind him. But out hyeh in the sage-brush, a man's home is apt to be hissaddle blanket. First thing yu' know, he has moved it to Texas. "

"You have done some moving yourself, " I suggested. 

But this word closed his mouth. "I have had a look at the country, " hesaid, and we were silent again. Let me, however, tell you here that hehad set out for a "look at the country" at the age of fourteen; andthat by his present age of twenty-four he had seen Arkansas, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. Everywhere he had taken care of himself, and survived; nor had hisstrong heart yet waked up to any hunger for a home. Let me also tell youthat he was one of thousands drifting and living thus, but (as you shalllearn) one in a thousand. 

Medicine Bow did not forever remain in sight. When next I thought of itand looked behind, nothing was there but the road we had come; it laylike a ship's wake across the huge ground swell of the earth. We wereswallowed in a vast solitude. A little while before sunset, a cabin camein view; and here we passed our first night. Two young men lived here, tending their cattle. They were fond of animals. By the stable a chainedcoyote rushed nervously in a circle, or sat on its haunches and snappedat gifts of food ungraciously. A tame young elk walked in and out ofthe cabin door, and during supper it tried to push me off my chair. Ahalf-tame mountain sheep practised jumping from the ground to the roof. The cabin was papered with posters of a circus, and skins of bear andsilver fox lay upon the floor. Until nine o'clock one man talked to theVirginian, and one played gayly upon a concertina; and then we all wentto bed. The air was like December, but in my blankets and a buffalo robeI kept warm, and luxuriated in the Rocky Mountain silence. Going to washbefore breakfast at sunrise, I found needles of ice in a pail. Yet itwas hard to remember that this quiet, open, splendid wilderness (withnot a peak in sight just here) was six thousand feet high. And whenbreakfast was over there was no December left; and by the time theVirginian and I were ten miles upon our way, it was June. But alwaysevery breath that I breathed was pure as water and strong as wine. 

We never passed a human being this day. Some wild cattle rushed up tous and away from us; antelope stared at us from a hundred yards; coyotesran skulking through the sage-brush to watch us from a hill; at our noonmeal we killed a rattlesnake and shot some young sage chickens, whichwere good at supper, roasted at our camp-fire. 

By half-past eight we were asleep beneath the stars, and by half-pastfour I was drinking coffee and shivering. The horse, Buck, was hard tocatch this second morning. Whether some hills that we were now inhad excited him, or whether the better water up here had caused aneffervescence in his spirits, I cannot say. But I was as hot as July bythe time we had him safe in harness, or, rather, unsafe in harness. ForBuck, in the mysterious language of horses, now taught wickedness tohis side partner, and about eleven o'clock they laid their evil headstogether and decided to break our necks. 

We were passing, I have said, through a range of demi-mountains. It wasa little country where trees grew, water ran, and the plains were shutout for a while. The road had steep places in it, and places here andthere where you could fall off and go bounding to the bottom amongstones. But Buck, for some reason, did not think these opportunitiesgood enough for him. He selected a more theatrical moment. We emergedfrom a narrow canyon suddenly upon five hundred cattle and some cow-boysbranding calves by a fire in a corral. It was a sight that Buck knew byheart. He instantly treated it like an appalling phenomenon. I sawhim kick seven ways; I saw Muggins kick five ways; our furious motionsnapped my spine like a whip. I grasped the seat. Something gave aforlorn jingle. It was the brake. 

"Don't jump!" commanded the trustworthy man. 

"No, " I said, as my hat flew off. 

Help was too far away to do anything for us. We passed scathless througha part of the cattle, I saw their horns and backs go by. Some earthcrumbled, and we plunged downward into water rocking among stones, andupward again through some more crumbling earth. I heard a crash, and sawmy trunk landing in the stream. 

"She's safer there, " said the trustworthy man. 

"True, " I said. 

"We'll go back for her, " said he, with his eye on the horses and hisfoot on the crippled brake. A dry gully was coming, and no room to turn. The farther side of it was terraced with rock. We should simply fallbackward, if we did not fall forward first. He steered the horsesstraight over, and just at the bottom swung them, with astonishingskill, to the right along the hard-baked mud. They took us along the bedup to the head of the gully, and through a thicket of quaking asps. Thelight trees bent beneath our charge and bastinadoed the wagon as it wentover them. But their branches enmeshed the horses' legs, and we came toa harmless standstill among a bower of leaves. 

I looked at the trustworthy man, and smiled vaguely. He considered mefor a moment. 

"I reckon, " said he, "you're feelin' about halfway between 'Oh, Lord!'and 'Thank God!'"

"That's quite it, " said I, as he got down on the ground. 

"Nothing's broke, " said he, after a searching examination. And heindulged in a true Virginian expletive. "Gentlemen, hush!" he murmuredgently, looking at me with his grave eyes; "one time I got pretty nearscared. You, Buck, " he continued, "some folks would beat you now tillyu'd be uncertain whether yu' was a hawss or a railroad accident. I'd doit myself, only it wouldn't cure yu'. "

I now told him that I supposed he had saved both our lives. But hedetested words of direct praise. He made some grumbling rejoinder, andled the horses out of the thicket. Buck, he explained to me, was a goodhorse, and so was Muggins. Both of them generally meant well, and thatwas the Judge's reason for sending them to meet me. But these broncoshad their off days. Off days might not come very often; but when thehumor seized a bronco, he had to have his spree. Buck would now behavehimself as a horse should for probably two months. "They are just likehumans, " the Virginian concluded. 

Several cow-boys arrived on a gallop to find how many pieces of us wereleft. We returned down the hill; and when we reached my trunk, it wassurprising to see the distance that our runaway had covered. My hat wasalso found, and we continued on our way. 

Buck and Muggins were patterns of discretion through the rest of themountains. I thought when we camped this night that it was strange Buckshould be again allowed to graze at large, instead of being tied to arope while we slept. But this was my ignorance. With the hard work thathe was gallantly doing, the horse needed more pasture than a rope'slength would permit him to find. Therefore he went free, and in themorning gave us but little trouble in catching him. 

We crossed a river in the forenoon, and far to the north of us we sawthe Bow Leg Mountains, pale in the bright sun. Sunk Creek flowed fromtheir western side, and our two hundred and sixty-three miles began togrow a small thing in my eyes. Buck and Muggins, I think, knew perfectlythat to-morrow would see them home. They recognized this region; andonce they turned off at a fork in the road. The Virginian pulled themback rather sharply. 

"Want to go back to Balaam's?" he inquired of them. "I thought you hadmore sense. "

I asked, "Who was Balaam?"

"A maltreater of hawsses, " replied the cowpuncher. "His ranch is onButte Creek oveh yondeh. " And he pointed to where the diverging roadmelted into space. "The Judge bought Buck and Muggins from him in thespring. "

"So he maltreats horses?" I repeated. 

"That's the word all through this country. A man that will do whatthey claim Balaam does to a hawss when he's mad, ain't fit to be calledhuman. " The Virginian told me some particulars. 

"Oh!" I almost screamed at the horror of it, and again, "Oh!"

"He'd have prob'ly done that to Buck as soon as he stopped runnin' away. If I caught a man doin' that--"

We were interrupted by a sedate-looking traveller riding upon an equallysober horse. 

"Mawnin', Taylor, " said the Virginian, pulling up for gossip. "Ain't youstrayed off your range pretty far?"

"You're a nice one!" replied Mr. Taylor, stopping his horse and smilingamiably. 

"Tell me something I don't know, " retorted the Virginian. 

"Hold up a man at cards and rob him, " pursued Mr. Taylor. "Oh, the newshas got ahead of you!"

"Trampas has been hyeh explainin', has he?" said the Virginian with agrin. 

"Was that your victim's name?" said Mr. Taylor, facetiously. "No, itwasn't him that brought the news. Say, what did you do, anyway?"

"So that thing has got around, " murmured the Virginian. "Well, it wasn'tworth such wide repawtin'. " And he gave the simple facts to Taylor, while I sat wondering at the contagious powers of Rumor. Here, throughthis voiceless land, this desert, this vacuum, it had spread like achange of weather. "Any news up your way?" the Virginian concluded. 

Importance came into Mr. Taylor's countenance. "Bear Creek is going tobuild a schoolhouse, " said he. 

"Goodness gracious!" drawled the Virginian. "What's that for?"

Now Mr. Taylor had been married for some years. "To educate theoffspring of Bear Creek, " he answered with pride. 

"Offspring of Bear Creek, " the Virginian meditatively repeated. "I don'tremember noticin' much offspring. There was some white tail deer, and aright smart o' jack rabbits. "

"The Swintons have moved up from Drybone, " said Mr. Taylor, alwaysseriously. "They found it no place for young children. And there's UncleCarmody with six, and Ben Dow. And Westfall has become a family man, and--"

"Jim Westfall!" exclaimed the Virginian. "Him a fam'ly man! Well, ifthis hyeh Territory is goin' to get full o' fam'ly men and empty o'game, I believe I'll--"

"Get married yourself, " suggested Mr. Taylor. 

"Me! I ain't near reached the marriageable age. No, seh! But UncleHughey has got there at last, yu' know. "

"Uncle Hughey!" shouted Mr. Taylor. He had not heard this. Rumor is verycapricious. Therefore the Virginian told him, and the family man rockedin his saddle. 

"Build your schoolhouse, " said the Virginian. "Uncle Hughey hasqualified himself to subscribe to all such propositions. Got your eye ona schoolmarm?"

V. ENTER THE WOMAN

"We are taking steps, " said Mr. Taylor. "Bear Creek ain't going to behasty about a schoolmarm. "

"Sure, " assented the Virginian. "The children wouldn't want yu' tohurry. "

But Mr. Taylor was, as I have indicated, a serious family man. Theproblem of educating his children could appear to him in no light excepta sober one. "Bear Creek, " he said, "don't want the experience they hadover at Calef. We must not hire an ignoramus. "

"Sure!" assented the Virginian again. 

"Nor we don't want no gad-a-way flirt, " said Mr. Taylor. 

"She must keep her eyes on the blackboa'd, " said the Virginian, gently. 

"Well, we can wait till we get a guaranteed article, " said Mr. Taylor. "And that's what we're going to do. It can't be this year, and itneedn't to be. None of the kids is very old, and the schoolhouse has gotto be built. " He now drew a letter from his pocket, and looked at me. "Are you acquainted with Miss Mary Stark Wood of Bennington, Vermont?"he inquired. 

I was not acquainted with her at this time. 

"She's one we are thinking of. She's a correspondent with Mrs. Balaam. "Taylor handed me the letter. "She wrote that to Mrs. Balaam, and Mrs. Balaam said the best thing was for to let me see it and judge formyself. I'm taking it back to Mrs. Balaam. Maybe you can give me youropinion how it sizes up with the letters they write back East?"

The communication was mainly of a business kind, but also personal, and freely written. I do not think that its writer expected it to beexhibited as a document. The writer wished very much that she could seethe West. But she could not gratify this desire merely for pleasure, or she would long ago have accepted the kind invitation to visit Mrs. Balaam's ranch. Teaching school was something she would like to do, ifshe were fitted for it. "Since the mills failed" (the writer said) "wehave all gone to work and done a lot of things so that mother might keepon living in the old house. Yes, the salary would be a temptation. But, my dear, isn't Wyoming bad for the complexion? And could I sue them ifmine got damaged? It is still admired. I could bring one male witness ATLEAST to prove that!" Then the writer became businesslike again. Even ifshe came to feel that she could leave home, she did not at all know thatshe could teach school. Nor did she think it right to accept aposition in which one had had no experience. "I do love children, boysespecially, " she went on. "My small nephew and I get on famously. Butimagine if a whole benchful of boys began asking me questions that Icouldn't answer! What should I do? For one could not spank them all, you know! And mother says that I ought not to teach anybody spelling, because I leave the U out of HONOR. "

Altogether it was a letter which I could assure Mr. Taylor "sized up"very well with the letters written in my part of the United States. Andit was signed, "Your very sincere spinster, Molly Stark Wood. "

"I never seen HONOR spelled with a U, " said Mr. Taylor, over whose nothighly civilized head certain portions of the letter had lightly passed. 

I told him that some old-fashioned people still wrote the word so. 

"Either way would satisfy Bear Creek, " said Mr. Taylor, "if she'sotherwise up to requirements. "

The Virginian was now looking over the letter musingly, and withawakened attention. 

"'Your very sincere spinster, '" he read aloud slowly. 

"I guess that means she's forty, " said Taylor. 

"I reckon she is about twenty, " said the Virginian. And again he fell tomusing over the paper that he held. 

"Her handwriting ain't like any I've saw, " pursued Mr. Taylor. "But BearCreek would not object to that, provided she knows 'rithmetic and GeorgeWashington, and them kind of things. "

"I expect she is not an awful sincere spinster, " surmised the Virginian, still looking at the letter, still holding it as if it were some token. 

Has any botanist set down what the seed of love is? Has it anywhere beenset down in how many ways this seed may be sown? In what various vesselsof gossamer it can float across wide spaces? Or upon what differentsoils it can fall, and live unknown, and bide its time for blooming?

The Virginian handed back to Taylor the sheet of note paper where a girlhad talked as the women he had known did not talk. If his eyes hadever seen such maidens, there had been no meeting of eyes; and if suchmaidens had ever spoken to him, the speech was from an establisheddistance. But here was a free language, altogether new to him. Itproved, however, not alien to his understanding, as it was alien to Mr. Taylor's. 

We drove onward, a mile perhaps, and then two. He had lately been fullof words, but now he barely answered me, so that a silence fell uponboth of us. It must have been all of ten miles that we had driven whenhe spoke of his own accord. 

"Your real spinster don't speak of her lot that easy, " he remarked. Andpresently he quoted a phrase about the complexion, "Could I sue themif mine got damaged?"' and he smiled over this to himself, shakinghis head. "What would she be doing on Bear Creek?" he next said. Andfinally: "I reckon that witness will detain her in Vermont. And hermother'll keep livin' at the old house. "

Thus did the cow-puncher deliver himself, not knowing at all that theseed had floated across wide spaces, and was biding its time in hisheart. 

On the morrow we reached Sunk Creek. Judge Henry's welcome and hiswife's would have obliterated any hardships that I had endured, and Ihad endured none at all. 

For a while I saw little of the Virginian. He lapsed into his native wayof addressing me occasionally as "seh"--a habit entirely repudiated bythis land of equality. I was sorry. Our common peril during the runawayof Buck and Muggins had brought us to a familiarity that I hoped wasdestined to last. But I think that it would not have gone farther, save for a certain personage--I must call her a personage. And as I amindebted to her for gaining me a friend whose prejudice against me mightnever have been otherwise overcome, I shall tell you her little story, and how her misadventures and her fate came to bring the Virginian andme to an appreciation of one another. Without her, it is likely I shouldalso not have heard so much of the story of the schoolmarm, and how thatlady at last came to Bear Creek. 

VI. EM'LY

My personage was a hen, and she lived at the Sunk Creek Ranch. 

Judge Henry's ranch was notable for several luxuries. He had milk, forexample. In those days his brother ranchmen had thousands of cattle veryoften, but not a drop of milk, save the condensed variety. Thereforethey had no butter. The Judge had plenty. Next rarest to butter and milkin the cattle country were eggs. But my host had chickens. Whether thiswas because he had followed cock-fighting in his early days, or whetherit was due to Mrs. Henry, I cannot say. I only know that when I took ameal elsewhere, I was likely to find nothing but the eternal "sowbelly, "beans, and coffee; while at Sunk Creek the omelet and the custard werefrequent. The passing traveller was glad to tie his horse to the fencehere, and sit down to the Judge's table. For its fame was as wide asWyoming. It was an oasis in the Territory's desolate bill-of-fare. 

The long fences of Judge Henry's home ranch began upon Sunk Creek soonafter that stream emerged from its canyon through the Bow Leg. It wasa place always well cared for by the owner, even in the days of hisbachelorhood. The placid regiments of cattle lay in the cool of thecottonwoods by the water, or slowly moved among the sage-brush, feedingupon the grass that in those forever departed years was plentiful andtall. The steers came fat off his unenclosed range and fattened stillmore in his large pasture; while his small pasture, a field some eightmiles square, was for several seasons given to the Judge's horses, andover this ample space there played and prospered the good colts whichhe raised from Paladin, his imported stallion. After he married, I havebeen assured that his wife's influence became visible in and about thehouse at once. Shade trees were planted, flowers attempted, and to thechickens was added the much more troublesome turkey. I, the visitor, waspressed into service when I arrived, green from the East. I took hold ofthe farmyard and began building a better chicken house, while the Judgewas off creating meadow land in his gray and yellow wilderness. Whenany cow-boy was unoccupied, he would lounge over to my neighborhood, andsilently regard my carpentering. 

Those cow-punchers bore names of various denominations. There was HoneyWiggin; there was Nebrasky, and Dollar Bill, and Chalkeye. And they camefrom farms and cities, from Maine and from California. But the romanceof American adventure had drawn them all alike to this great playgroundof young men, and in their courage, their generosity, and theiramusement at me they bore a close resemblance to each other. Each onewould silently observe my achievements with the hammer and the chisel. Then he would retire to the bunk-house, and presently I would over hearlaughter. But this was only in the morning. In the afternoon on manydays of the summer which I spent at the Sunk Creek Ranch I would goshooting, or ride up toward the entrance of the canyon and watch the menworking on the irrigation ditches. Pleasant systems of water runningin channels were being led through the soil, and there was a sound ofrippling here and there among the yellow grain; the green thick alfalfagrass waved almost, it seemed, of its own accord, for the wind neverblew; and when at evening the sun lay against the plain, the rift of thecanyon was filled with a violet light, and the Bow Leg Mountains becametransfigured with hues of floating and unimaginable color. The sun shonein a sky where never a cloud came, and noon was not too warm nor thedark too cool. And so for two months I went through these pleasantuneventful days, improving the chickens, an object of mirth, living inthe open air, and basking in the perfection of content. 

I was justly styled a tenderfoot. Mrs. Henry had in the beginningendeavored to shield me from this humiliation; but when she found that Iwas inveterate in laying my inexperience of Western matters bare to allthe world, begging to be enlightened upon rattlesnakes, prairie-dogs, owls, blue and willow grouse, sage-hens, how to rope a horse or tightenthe front cinch of my saddle, and that my spirit soared into enthusiasmat the mere sight of so ordinary an animal as a white-tailed deer, shelet me rush about with my firearms and made no further effort to staveoff the ridicule that my blunders perpetually earned from the ranchhands, her own humorous husband, and any chance visitor who stopped fora meal or stayed the night. 

I was not called by my name after the first feeble etiquette due to astranger in his first few hours had died away. I was known simply as"the tenderfoot. " I was introduced to the neighborhood (a circleof eighty miles) as "the tenderfoot. " It was thus that Balaam, themaltreater of horses, learned to address me when he came a twodays' journey to pay a visit. And it was this name and my notorioushelplessness that bid fair to end what relations I had with theVirginian. For when Judge Henry ascertained that nothing could preventme from losing myself, that it was not uncommon for me to saunter outafter breakfast with a gun and in thirty minutes cease to know northfrom south, he arranged for my protection. He detailed an escort for me;and the escort was once more the trustworthy man! The poor Virginian wastaken from his work and his comrades and set to playing nurse for me. And for a while this humiliation ate into his untamed soul. It was hislugubrious lot to accompany me in my rambles, preside over my blunders, and save me from calamitously passing into the next world. He bore it incourteous silence, except when speaking was necessary. He would show methe lower ford, which I could never find for myself, generally mistakinga quicksand for it. He would tie my horse properly. He would recommendme not to shoot my rifle at a white-tailed deer in the particular momentthat the outfit wagon was passing behind the animal on the further sideof the brush. There was seldom a day that he was not obliged to hastenand save me from sudden death or from ridicule, which is worse. Yetnever once did he lose his patience and his gentle, slow voice, andapparently lazy manner remained the same, whether we were sitting atlunch together, or up in the mountain during a hunt, or whether hewas bringing me back my horse, which had run away because I had againforgotten to throw the reins over his head and let them trail. 

"He'll always stand if yu' do that, " the Virginian would say. "See howmy hawss stays right quiet yondeh. "

After such admonition he would say no more to me. But this tamenursery business was assuredly gall to him. For though utterly a manin countenance and in his self-possession and incapacity to be put ata loss, he was still boyishly proud of his wild calling, and wore hisleather straps and jingled his spurs with obvious pleasure. His tigerlimberness and his beauty were rich with unabated youth; and that forcewhich lurked beneath his surface must often have curbed his intoleranceof me. In spite of what I knew must be his opinion of me, thetenderfoot, my liking for him grew, and I found his silent company moreand more agreeable. That he had spells of talking, I had already learnedat Medicine Bow. But his present taciturnity might almost have effacedthis impression, had I not happened to pass by the bunk-house oneevening after dark, when Honey Wiggin and the rest of the cow-boys weregathered inside it. 

That afternoon the Virginian and I had gone duck shooting. We hadfound several in a beaver dam, and I had killed two as they sat closetogether; but they floated against the breastwork of sticks out in thewater some four feet deep, where the escaping current might carry themdown the stream. The Judge's red setter had not accompanied us, becauseshe was expecting a family. 

"We don't want her along anyways, " the cowpuncher had explained to me. "She runs around mighty irresponsible, and she'll stand a prairie-dog'bout as often as she'll stand a bird. She's a triflin' animal. "

My anxiety to own the ducks caused me to pitch into the water withall my clothes on, and subsequently crawl out a slippery, triumphant, weltering heap. The Virginian's serious eyes had rested upon thisspectacle of mud; but he expressed nothing, as usual. 

"They ain't overly good eatin', " he observed, tying the birds to hissaddle. "They're divers. "

"Divers!" I exclaimed. "Why didn't they dive?"

"I reckon they was young ones and hadn't experience. "

"Well, " I said, crestfallen, but attempting to be humorous, "I did thediving myself. "

But the Virginian made no comment. He handed me my double-barrelledEnglish gun, which I was about to leave deserted on the groundbehind me, and we rode home in our usual silence, the mean littlewhite-breasted, sharp-billed divers dangling from his saddle. 

It was in the bunk-house that he took his revenge. As I passed I heardhis gentle voice silently achieving some narrative to an attentiveaudience, and just as I came by the open window where he sat on his bedin shirt and drawers, his back to me, I heard his concluding words, "And the hat on his haid was the one mark showed yu' he weren't asnappin'-turtle. "

The anecdote met with instantaneous success, and I hurried away into thedark. The next morning I was occupied with the chickens. Two hens werefighting to sit on some eggs that a third was daily laying, and whichI did not want hatched, and for the third time I had kicked Em'ly offseven potatoes she had rolled together and was determined to raise Iknow not what sort of family from. She was shrieking about the hen-houseas the Virginian came in to observe (I suspect) what I might be doingnow that could be useful for him to mention in the bunk-house. 

He stood awhile, and at length said, "We lost our best rooster when Mrs. Henry came to live hyeh. "

I paid no attention. 

"He was a right elegant Dominicker, " he continued. 

I felt a little riled about the snapping-turtle, and showed no interestin what he was saying, but continued my functions among the hens. Thisunusual silence of mine seemed to elicit unusual speech from him. 

"Yu' see, that rooster he'd always lived round hyeh when the Judge wasa bachelor, and he never seen no ladies or any persons wearing femalegyarments. You ain't got rheumatism, seh?"

"Me? No. "

"I reckoned maybe them little odd divers yu' got damp goin' afteh--" Hepaused. 

"Oh, no, not in the least, thank you. "

"Yu' seemed sort o' grave this mawnin', and I'm cert'nly glad it ain'tthem divers. "

"Well, the rooster?" I inquired finally. 

"Oh, him! He weren't raised where he could see petticoats. Mrs. Henryshe come hyeh from the railroad with the Judge afteh dark. Next mawnin'early she walked out to view her new home, and the rooster was a-feedin'by the door, and he seen her. Well, seh, he screeched that awful I runout of the bunk-house; and he jus' went over the fence and took downSunk Creek shoutin' fire, right along. He has never come back. "

"There's a hen over there now that has no judgment, " I said, indicatingEm'ly. She had got herself outside the house, and was on the bars of acorral, her vociferations reduced to an occasional squawk. I told himabout the potatoes. 

"I never knowed her name before, " said he. "That runaway rooster, hehated her. And she hated him same as she hates 'em all. "

"I named her myself, " said I, "after I came to notice her particularly. There's an old maid at home who's charitable, and belongs to the Crueltyto Animals, and she never knows whether she had better cross in frontof a street car or wait. I named the hen after her. Does she ever layeggs?"

The Virginian had not "troubled his haid" over the poultry. 

"Well, I don't believe she knows how. I think she came near being arooster. "

"She's sure manly-lookin', " said the Virginian. We had walked toward thecorral, and he was now scrutinizing Em'ly with interest. 

She was an egregious fowl. She was huge and gaunt, with great yellowbeak, and she stood straight and alert in the manner of responsiblepeople. There was something wrong with her tail. It slanted far toone side, one feather in it twice as long as the rest. Feathers on herbreast there were none. These had been worn entirely off by her habit ofsitting upon potatoes and other rough abnormal objects. And this lentto her appearance an air of being decollete, singularly at variancewith her otherwise prudish ensemble. Her eye was remarkably bright, butsomehow it had an outraged expression. It was as if she went about theworld perpetually scandalized over the doings that fell beneath hernotice. Her legs were blue, long, and remarkably stout. 

"She'd ought to wear knickerbockers, " murmured the Virginian. "She'dlook a heap better 'n some o' them college students. And she'll set onpotatoes, yu' say?"

"She thinks she can hatch out anything. I've found her with onions, andlast Tuesday I caught her on two balls of soap. "

In the afternoon the tall cow-puncher and I rode out to get an antelope. 

After an hour, during which he was completely taciturn, he said: "Ireckon maybe this hyeh lonesome country ain't been healthy for Em'ly tolive in. It ain't for some humans. Them old trappers in the mountainsgets skewed in the haid mighty often, an' talks out loud when nobody'snigher 'n a hundred miles. "

"Em'ly has not been solitary, " I replied. "There are forty chickenshere. "

"That's so, " said he. "It don't explain her. "

He fell silent again, riding beside me, easy and indolent in the saddle. His long figure looked so loose and inert that the swift, light springhe made to the ground seemed an impossible feat. He had seen an antelopewhere I saw none. 

"Take a shot yourself, " I urged him, as he motioned me to be quick. "Younever shoot when I'm with you. "

"I ain't hyeh for that, " he answered. "Now you've let him get away onyu'!"

The antelope had in truth departed. 

"Why, " he said to my protest, "I can hit them things any day. What'syour notion as to Em'ly?"

"I can't account for her, " I replied. 

"Well, " he said musingly, and then his mind took one of those particularturns that made me love him, "Taylor ought to see her. She'd be just theschoolmarm for Bear Creek!"

"She's not much like the eating-house lady at Medicine Bow, " I said. 

He gave a hilarious chuckle. "No, Em'ly knows nothing o' them joys. Soyu' have no notion about her? Well, I've got one. I reckon maybe she washatched after a big thunderstorm. "

"In a big thunderstorm!" I exclaimed. 

"Yes. Don't yu' know about them, and what they'll do to aiggs? Abig case o' lightnin' and thunder will addle aiggs and keep 'em fromhatchin'. And I expect one came along, and all the other aiggs ofEm'ly's set didn't hatch out, but got plumb addled, and she happened notto get addled that far, and so she just managed to make it through. Butshe cert'nly ain't got a strong haid. "

"I fear she has not, " said I. 

"Mighty hon'ble intentions, " he observed. "If she can't make out to layanything, she wants to hatch somethin', and be a mother anyways. "

"I wonder what relation the law considers that a hen is to the chickenshe hatched but did not lay?" I inquired. 

The Virginian made no reply to this frivolous suggestion. He was gazingover the wide landscape gravely and with apparent inattention. Heinvariably saw game before I did, and was off his horse and crouchedamong the sage while I was still getting my left foot clear of thestirrup. I succeeded in killing an antelope, and we rode home with thehead and hind quarters. 

"No, " said he. "It's sure the thunder, and not the lonesomeness. How doyu' like the lonesomeness yourself?"

I told him that I liked it. 

"I could not live without it now, " he said. "This has got into mysystem. " He swept his hand out at the vast space of world. "I went backhome to see my folks onced. Mother was dyin' slow, and she wanted me. I stayed a year. But them Virginia mountains could please me no more. Afteh she was gone, I told my brothers and sisters good-by. We like eachother well enough, but I reckon I'll not go back. "

We found Em'ly seated upon a collection of green California peaches, which the Judge had brought from the railroad. 

"I don't mind her any more, " I said; "I'm sorry for her. "

"I've been sorry for her right along, " said the Virginian. "She doeshate the roosters so. " And he said that he was making a collection ofevery class of object which he found her treating as eggs. 

But Em'ly's egg-industry was terminated abruptly one morning, and herunquestioned energies diverted to a new channel. A turkey which had beensitting in the root-house appeared with twelve children, and a family ofbantams occurred almost simultaneously. Em'ly was importantly scratchingthe soil inside Paladin's corral when the bantam tribe of newly borncame by down the lane, and she caught sight of them through the bars. She crossed the corral at a run, and intercepted two of the chicks thatwere trailing somewhat behind their real mamma. These she undertookto appropriate, and assumed a high tone with the bantam, who was thesmaller, and hence obliged to retreat with her still numerous family. I interfered, and put matters straight; but the adjustment was onlytemporary. In an hour I saw Em'ly immensely busy with two more bantams, leading them about and taking a care of them which I must admit seemedperfectly efficient. 

And now came the first incident that made me suspect her to be demented. 

She had proceeded with her changelings behind the kitchen, where one ofthe irrigation ditches ran under the fence from the hay-field to supplythe house with water. Some distance along this ditch inside the fieldwere the twelve turkeys in the short, recently cut stubble. Again Em'lyset off instantly like a deer. She left the dismayed bantams behind her. She crossed the ditch with one jump of her stout blue legs, flew overthe grass, and was at once among the turkeys, where, with an instinctof maternity as undiscriminating as it was reckless, she attempted tohuddle some of them away. But this other mamma was not a bantam, and ina few moments Em'ly was entirely routed in her attempt to acquire a newvariety of family. 

This spectacle was witnessed by the Virginian and myself, and itovercame him. He went speechless across to the bunk-house, by himself, and sat on his bed, while I took the abandoned bantams back to their owncircle. 

I have often wondered what the other fowls thought of all this. Someimpression it certainly did make upon them. The notion may seem out ofreason to those who have never closely attended to other animals thanman; but I am convinced that any community which shares some of ourinstincts will share some of the resulting feelings, and that birds andbeasts have conventions, the breach of which startles them. If there beanything in evolution, this would seem inevitable; At all events, the chicken-house was upset during the following several days. Em'lydisturbed now the bantams and now the turkeys, and several of theselatter had died, though I will not go so far as to say that this wasthe result of her misplaced attentions. Nevertheless, I was seriouslythinking of locking her up till the broods should be a little older, when another event happened, and all was suddenly at peace. 

The Judge's setter came in one morning, wagging her tail. She had hadher puppies, and she now took us to where they were housed, in betweenthe floor of a building and the hollow ground. Em'ly was seated on thewhole litter. 

"No, " I said to the Judge, "I am not surprised. She is capable ofanything. "

In her new choice of offspring, this hen had at length encountered anunworthy parent. The setter was bored by her own puppies. She found thehole under the house an obscure and monotonous residence compared withthe dining room, and our company more stimulating and sympathetic thanthat of her children. A much-petted contact with our superior race haddeveloped her dog intelligence above its natural level, and turned herinto an unnatural, neglectful mother, who was constantly forgetting hernursery for worldly pleasures. 

At certain periods of the day she repaired to the puppies and fed them, but came away when this perfunctory ceremony was accomplished; and shewas glad enough to have a governess bring them up. She made no quarrelwith Em'ly, and the two understood each other perfectly. I have neverseen among animals any arrangement so civilized and so perverted. It made Em'ly perfectly happy. To see her sitting all day jealouslyspreading her wings over some blind puppies was sufficiently curious;but when they became large enough to come out from under the house andtoddle about in the proud hen's wake, I longed for some distinguishednaturalist. I felt that our ignorance made us inappropriate spectatorsof such a phenomenon. Em'ly scratched and clucked, and the puppies ranto her, pawed her with their fat limp little legs, and retreated beneathher feathers in their games of hide and seek. Conceive, if you can, whatconfusion must have reigned in their infant minds as to who the setterwas!

"I reckon they think she's the wet-nurse, " said the Virginian. 

When the puppies grew to be boisterous, I perceived that Em'ly'smission was approaching its end. They were too heavy for her, and theirincreasing scope of playfulness was not in her line. Once or twice theyknocked her over, upon which she arose and pecked them severely, andthey retired to a safe distance, and sitting in a circle, yapped ather. I think they began to suspect that she was only a hen after all. So Em'ly resigned with an indifference which surprised me, until Iremembered that if it had been chickens, she would have ceased to lookafter them by this time. 

But here she was again "out of a job, " as the Virginian said. 

"She's raised them puppies for that triflin' setter, and now she'llbe huntin' around for something else useful to do that ain't in herbusiness. "

Now there were other broods of chickens to arrive in the hen-house, andI did not desire any more bantam and turkey performances. So, to avoidconfusion, I played a trick upon Em'ly. I went down to Sunk Creek andfetched some smooth, oval stones. She was quite satisfied with these, and passed a quiet day with them in a box. This was not fair, theVirginian asserted. 

"You ain't going to jus' leave her fooled that a-way?"

I did not see why not. 

"Why, she raised them puppies all right. Ain't she showed she knows howto be a mother anyways? Em'ly ain't going to get her time took up fornothing while I'm round hyeh, " said the cowpuncher. 

He laid a gentle hold of Em'ly and tossed her to the ground. She, ofcourse, rushed out among the corrals in a great state of nerves. 

"I don't see what good you do meddling, " I protested. 

To this he deigned no reply, but removed the unresponsive stones fromthe straw. 

"Why, if they ain't right warm!" he exclaimed plaintively. "The poor, deluded son-of-a-gun!" And with this unusual description of a lady, hesent the stones sailing like a line of birds. "I'm regular getting stuckon Em'ly, " continued the Virginian. "Yu' needn't to laugh. Don't yu' seeshe's got sort o' human feelin's and desires? I always knowed hawsseswas like people, and my collie, of course. It is kind of foolish, Iexpect, but that hen's goin' to have a real aigg di-rectly, right now, to set on. " With this he removed one from beneath another hen. "We'llhave Em'ly raise this hyeh, " said he, "so she can put in her timeprofitable. "

It was not accomplished at once; for Em'ly, singularly enough, wouldnot consent to stay in the box whence she had been routed. At length wefound another retreat for her, and in these new surroundings, with anew piece of work for her to do, Em'ly sat on the one egg which theVirginian had so carefully provided for her. 

Thus, as in all genuine tragedies, was the stroke of Fate wrought bychance and the best intentions. 

Em'ly began sitting on Friday afternoon near sundown. Early next morningmy sleep was gradually dispersed by a sound unearthly and continuous. Now it dwindled, receding to a distance; again it came near, took aturn, drifted to the other side of the house; then, evidently, whateverit was, passed my door close, and I jumped upright in my bed. The high, tense strain of vibration, nearly, but not quite, a musical note, waslike the threatening scream of machinery, though weaker, and I boundedout of the house in my pajamas. 

There was Em'ly, dishevelled, walking wildly about, her one eggmiraculously hatched within ten hours. The little lonely yellow ball ofdown went cheeping along behind, following its mother as best it could. What, then, had happened to the established period of incubation? Foran instant the thing was like a portent, and I was near joining Em'ly inher horrid surprise, when I saw how it all was. The Virginian had takenan egg from a hen which had already been sitting for three weeks. 

I dressed in haste, hearing Em'ly's distracted outcry. It steadilysounded, without perceptible pause for breath, and marked her erraticjourney back and forth through stables, lanes, and corrals. The shrilldisturbance brought all of us out to see her, and in the hen-house Idiscovered the new brood making its appearance punctually. 

But this natural explanation could not be made to the crazed hen. Shecontinued to scour the premises, her slant tail and its one preposterousfeather waving as she aimlessly went, her stout legs stepping high withan unnatural motion, her head lifted nearly off her neck, and inher brilliant yellow eye an expression of more than outrage atthis overturning of a natural law. Behind her, entirely ignored andneglected, trailed the little progeny. She never looked at it. We wentabout our various affairs, and all through the clear, sunny day thatunending metallic scream pervaded the premises. The Virginian put outfood and water for her, but she tasted nothing. I am glad to say thatthe little chicken did. I do not think that the hen's eyes could see, except in the way that sleep-walkers' do. 

The heat went out of the air, and in the canyon the violet light beganto show. Many hours had gone, but Em'ly never ceased. Now she suddenlyflew up in a tree and sat there with her noise still going; but it hadrisen lately several notes into a slim, acute level of terror, and wasnot like machinery any more, nor like any sound I ever heard before orsince. Below the tree stood the bewildered little chicken, cheeping, andmaking tiny jumps to reach its mother. 

"Yes, " said the Virginian, "it's comical. Even her aigg acted differentfrom anybody else's. " He paused, and looked across the wide, mellowingplain with the expression of easy-going gravity so common with him. Thenhe looked at Em'ly in the tree and the yellow chicken. 

"It ain't so damned funny, " said he. 

We went in to supper, and I came out to find the hen lying on theground, dead. I took the chicken to the family in the hen-house. 

No, it was not altogether funny any more. And I did not think less ofthe Virginian when I came upon him surreptitiously digging a little holein the field for her. 

"I have buried some citizens here and there, " said he, "that I haverespected less. "

And when the time came for me to leave Sunk Creek, my last word to theVirginian was, "Don't forget Em'ly. "

"I ain't likely to, " responded the cow-puncher. "She is just one o' themparables. "

Save when he fell into his native idioms (which, they told me, hiswanderings had well-nigh obliterated until that year's visit to his homeagain revived them in his speech), he had now for a long while droppedthe "seh, " and all other barriers between us. We were thorough friends, and had exchanged many confidences both of the flesh and of the spirit. He even went the length of saying that he would write me the Sunk Creeknews if I would send him a line now and then. I have many letters fromhim now. Their spelling came to be faultless, and in the beginning waslittle worse than George Washington's. 

The Judge himself drove me to the railroad by another way--across theBow Leg Mountains, and south through Balaam's Ranch and Drybone to RockCreek. 

"I'll be very homesick, " I told him. 

"Come and pull the latch-string whenever you please, " he bade me. Iwished that I might! No lotus land ever cast its spell upon man's heartmore than Wyoming had enchanted mine. 

VII. THROUGH TWO SNOWS

"Dear Friend [thus in the spring the Virginian wrote me], Yoursreceived. It must be a poor thing to be sick. That time I was shot atCanada de Oro would have made me sick if it had been a littel lower orif I was much of a drinking man. You will be well if you give over citylife and take a hunt with me about August or say September for then theelk will be out of the velvett. 

"Things do not please me here just now and I am going to settel itby vamosing. But I would be glad to see you. It would be pleasure notbusiness for me to show you plenty elk and get you strong. I am notcrybabying to the Judge or making any kick about things. He will wantme back after he has swallowed a litter tincture of time. It is the bestdose I know. 

"Now to answer your questions. Yes the Emmily hen might have ate locoweed if hens do. I never saw anything but stock and horses get poisonedwith loco weed. No the school is not built yet. They are always bigtalkers on Bear Creek. No I have not seen Steve. He is around but Iam sorry for him. Yes I have been to Medicine Bow. I had the welcom Iwanted. Do you remember a man I played poker and he did not like it? Heis working on the upper ranch near Ten Sleep. He does not amount to athing except with weaklings. Uncle Hewie has twins. The boys got himvexed some about it, but I think they are his. Now that is all I knowto-day and I would like to see you poco presently as they say at LosCruces. There's no sense in you being sick. "

The rest of this letter discussed the best meeting point for us should Idecide to join him for a hunt. 

That hunt was made, and during the weeks of its duration something wassaid to explain a little more fully the Virginian's difficulty at theSunk Creek Ranch, and his reason for leaving his excellent employer theJudge. Not much was said, to be sure; the Virginian seldom spent manywords upon his own troubles. But it appeared that owing to some jealousyof him on the part of the foreman, or the assistant foreman, he foundhimself continually doing another man's work, but under circumstances soskilfully arranged that he got neither credit nor pay for it. He wouldnot stoop to telling tales out of school. Therefore his ready andprophetic mind devised the simple expedient of going away altogether. He calculated that Judge Henry would gradually perceive there was aconnection between his departure and the cessation of the satisfactorywork. After a judicious interval it was his plan to appear again in theneighborhood of Sunk Creek and await results. 

Concerning Steve he would say no more than he had written. But it wasplain that for some cause this friendship had ceased. 

Money for his services during the hunt he positively declined to accept, asserting that he had not worked enough to earn his board. And theexpedition ended in an untravelled corner of the Yellowstone Park, near Pitchstone Canyon, where he and young Lin McLean and otherswere witnesses of a sad and terrible drama that has been elsewherechronicled. 

His prophetic mind had foreseen correctly the shape of events at SunkCreek. The only thing that it had not foreseen was the impression to bemade upon the Judge's mind by his conduct. 

Toward the close of that winter, Judge and Mrs. Henry visited the East. Through them a number of things became revealed. The Virginian was backat Sunk Creek. 

"And, " said Mrs. Henry, "he would never have left you if I had had myway, Judge H. !"

"No, Madam Judge, " retorted her husband; "I am aware of that. For youhave always appreciated a fine appearance in a man. "

"I certainly have, " confessed the lady, mirthfully. "And the way heused to come bringing my horse, with the ridges of his black hair socarefully brushed and that blue spotted handkerchief tied so effectivelyround his throat, was something that I missed a great deal after he wentaway. "

"Thank you, my dear, for this warning. I have plans that will keep himabsent quite constantly for the future. "

And then they spoke less flightily. "I always knew, " said the lady, "that you had found a treasure when that man came. "

The Judge laughed. "When it dawned on me, " he said, "how cleverly hecaused me to learn the value of his services by depriving me of them, Idoubted whether it was safe to take him back. "

"Safe!" cried Mrs. Henry. 

"Safe, my dear. Because I'm afraid he is pretty nearly as shrewd as Iam. And that's rather dangerous in a subordinate. " The Judge laughedagain. "But his action regarding the man they call Steve has made mefeel easy. "

And then it came out that the Virginian was supposed to have discoveredin some way that Steve had fallen from the grace of that particularhonesty which respects another man's cattle. It was not known forcertain. But calves had begun to disappear in Cattle Land, and cows hadbeen found killed. And calves with one brand upon them had been foundwith mothers that bore the brand of another owner. This industry wastaking root in Cattle Land, and of those who practised it, some werebeginning to be suspected. Steve was not quite fully suspected yet. Butthat the Virginian had parted company with him was definitely known. Andneither man would talk about it. 

There was the further news that the Bear Creek schoolhouse at lengthstood complete, floor, walls, and roof; and that a lady from Bennington, Vermont, a friend of Mrs. Balaam's, had quite suddenly decided that shewould try her hand at instructing the new generation. 

The Judge and Mrs. Henry knew this because Mrs. Balaam had told themof her disappointment that she would be absent from the ranch on ButteCreek when her friend arrived, and therefore unable to entertain her. The friend's decision had been quite suddenly made, and must form thesubject of the next chapter. 

VIII. THE SINCERE SPINSTER

I do not know with which of the two estimates--Mr. Taylor's or theVirginian's--you agreed. Did you think that Miss Mary Stark Wood ofBennington, Vermont, was forty years of age? That would have been anerror. At the time she wrote the letter to Mrs. Balaam, of whichletter certain portions have been quoted in these pages, she was inher twenty-first year; or, to be more precise, she had been twenty someeight months previous. 

Now, it is not usual for young ladies of twenty to contemplate a journeyof nearly two thousand miles to a country where Indians and wild animalslive unchained, unless they are to make such journey in company with aprotector, or are going to a protector's arms at the other end. Nor isschool teaching on Bear Creek a usual ambition for such young ladies. 

But Miss Mary Stark Wood was not a usual young lady for two reasons. 

First, there was her descent. Had she so wished, she could have belongedto any number of those patriotic societies of which our American earshave grown accustomed to hear so much. She could have been enrolled inthe Boston Tea Party, the Ethan Allen Ticonderogas, the Green MountainDaughters, the Saratoga Sacred Circle, and the Confederated ColonialChatelaines. She traced direct descent from the historic lady whose nameshe bore, that Molly Stark who was not a widow after the battle whereher lord, her Captain John, battled so bravely as to send his namethrilling down through the blood of generations of schoolboys. Thisancestress was her chief claim to be a member of those shining societieswhich I have enumerated. But she had been willing to join none of them, although invitations to do so were by no means lacking. I cannot tellyou her reason. Still, I can tell you this. When these societies weremuch spoken of in her presence, her very sprightly countenance becamemore sprightly, and she added her words of praise or respect to thegeneral chorus. But when she received an invitation to join one ofthese bodies, her countenance, as she read the missive, would assume anexpression which was known to her friends as "sticking her nose in theair. " I do not think that Molly's reason for refusing to join could havebeen a truly good one. I should add that her most precious possession--atreasure which accompanied her even if she went away for only onenight's absence--was an heirloom, a little miniature portrait of the oldMolly Stark, painted when that far-off dame must have been scarce morethan twenty. And when each summer the young Molly went to Dunbarton, NewHampshire, to pay her established family visit to the last survivors ofher connection who bore the name of Stark, no word that she heard in theDunbarton houses pleased her so much as when a certain great-aunt wouldtake her by the hand, and, after looking with fond intentness at her, pronounce: "My dear, you're getting more like the General's wife everyyear you live. "

"I suppose you mean my nose, " Molly would then reply. 

"Nonsense, child. You have the family length of nose, and I've neverheard that it has disgraced us. "

"But I don't think I'm tall enough for it. "

"There now, run to your room, and dress for tea. The Starks have alwaysbeen punctual. "

And after this annual conversation, Molly would run to her room, andthere in its privacy, even at the risk of falling below the punctualityof the Starks, she would consult two objects for quite a minute beforeshe began to dress. These objects, as you have already correctlyguessed, were the miniature of the General's wife and the looking glass. 

So much for Miss Molly Stark Wood's descent. 

The second reason why she was not a usual girl was her character. Thischaracter was the result of pride and family pluck battling with familyhardship. 

Just one year before she was to be presented to the world--not the greatmetropolitan world, but a world that would have made her welcome anddone her homage at its little dances and little dinners in Troy andRutland and Burlington--fortune had turned her back upon the Woods. Their possessions had never been great ones; but they had sufficed. Fromgeneration to generation the family had gone to school like gentlefolk, dressed like gentlefolk, used the speech and ways of gentlefolk, and asgentlefolk lived and died. And now the mills failed. 

Instead of thinking about her first evening dress, Molly found pupilsto whom she could give music lessons. She found handkerchiefs that shecould embroider with initials. And she found fruit that she couldmake into preserves. That machine called the typewriter was then inexistence, but the day of women typewriters had as yet scarcely begunto dawn, else I think Molly would have preferred this occupation to thehandkerchiefs and the preserves. 

There were people in Bennington who "wondered how Miss Wood could goabout from house to house teaching the piano, and she a lady. " Therealways have been such people, I suppose, because the world must alwayshave a rubbish heap. But we need not dwell upon them further than tomention one other remark of theirs regarding Molly. They all with onevoice declared that Sam Bannett was good enough for anybody who didfancy embroidery at five cents a letter. 

"I dare say he had a great-grandmother quite as good as hers, " remarkedMrs. Flynt, the wife of the Baptist minister. 

"That's entirely possible, " returned the Episcopal rector of Hoosic, "only we don't happen to know who she was. " The rector was a friend ofMolly's. After this little observation, Mrs. Flynt said no more, butcontinued her purchases in the store where she and the rector hadhappened to find themselves together. Later she stated to a friend thatshe had always thought the Episcopal Church a snobbish one, and now sheknew it. 

So public opinion went on being indignant over Molly's conduct. Shecould stoop to work for money, and yet she pretended to hold herselfabove the most rising young man in Hoosic Falls, and all just becausethere was a difference in their grandmothers!

Was this the reason at the bottom of it? The very bottom? I cannot becertain, because I have never been a girl myself. Perhaps she thoughtthat work is not a stooping, and that marriage may be. Perhaps--But allI really know is that Molly Wood continued cheerfully to embroiderthe handkerchiefs, make the preserves, teach the pupils--and firmly toreject Sam Bannett. 

Thus it went on until she was twenty. There certain members of herfamily began to tell her how rich Sam was going to be--was, indeed, already. It was at this time that she wrote Mrs. Balaam her doubts andher desires as to migrating to Bear Creek. It was at this time alsothat her face grew a little paler, and her friends thought that she wasoverworked, and Mrs. Flynt feared she was losing her looks. It was atthis time, too, that she grew very intimate with that great-aunt over atDunbarton, and from her received much comfort and strengthening. 

"Never!" said the old lady, "especially if you can't love him. "

"I do like him, " said Molly; "and he is very kind. "

"Never!" said the old lady again. "When I die, you'll havesomething--and that will not be long now. "

Molly flung her arms around her aunt, and stopped her words with a kiss. And then one winter afternoon, two years later, came the last straw. 

The front door of the old house had shut. Out of it had stepped thepersistent suitor. Mrs. Flynt watched him drive away in his smartsleigh. 

"That girl is a fool!" she said furiously; and she came away from herbedroom window where she had posted herself for observation. 

Inside the old house a door had also shut. This was the door of Molly'sown room. And there she sat, in floods of tears. For she could not bearto hurt a man who loved her with all the power of love that was in him. 

It was about twilight when her door opened, and an elderly lady camesoftly in. 

"My dear, " she ventured, "and you were not able--"

"Oh, mother!" cried the girl, "have you come to say that too?"

The next day Miss Wood had become very hard. In three weeks shehad accepted the position on Bear Creek. In two months she started, heart-heavy, but with a spirit craving the unknown. 

IX. THE SPINSTER MEETS THE UNKNOWN

On a Monday noon a small company of horsemen strung out along the trailfrom Sunk Creek to gather cattle over their allotted sweep of range. Spring was backward, and they, as they rode galloping and gatheringupon the cold week's work, cursed cheerily and occasionally sang. TheVirginian was grave in bearing and of infrequent speech; but he kepta song going--a matter of some seventy-nine verses. Seventy-eight werequite unprintable, and rejoiced his brother cowpunchers monstrously. They, knowing him to be a singular man, forebore ever to press him, andawaited his own humor, lest he should weary of the lyric; and when aftera day of silence apparently saturnine, he would lift his gentle voiceand begin:

 "If you go to monkey with my Looloo girl, I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll cyarve your heart with my razor, AND I'll shoot you with my pistol, too--"

then they would stridently take up each last line, and keep it goingthree, four, ten times, and kick holes in the ground to the swing of it. 

By the levels of Bear Creek that reach like inlets among thepromontories of the lonely hills, they came upon the schoolhouse, roofedand ready for the first native Wyoming crop. It symbolized the dawn of aneighborhood, and it brought a change into the wilderness air. The feelof it struck cold upon the free spirits of the cow-punchers, and theytold each other that, what with women and children and wire fences, thiscountry would not long be a country for men. They stopped for a meal atan old comrade's. They looked over his gate, and there he was patteringamong garden furrows. 

"Pickin' nosegays?" inquired the Virginian and the old comrade askedif they could not recognize potatoes except in the dish. But he grinnedsheepishly at them, too, because they knew that he had not always livedin a garden. Then he took them into his house, where they saw an objectcrawling on the floor with a handful of sulphur matches. He began toremove the matches, but stopped in alarm at the vociferous result; andhis wife looked in from the kitchen to caution him about humoring littleChristopher. 

When she beheld the matches she was aghast but when she saw her babygrow quiet in the arms of the Virginian, she smiled at that cowpuncherand returned to her kitchen. 

Then the Virginian slowly spoke again: "How many little strangers haveyu' got, James?"

"Only two. "

"My! Ain't it most three years since yu' maried? Yu' mustn't let timecreep ahaid o' yu', James. "

The father once more grinned at his guests, who themselves turnedsheepish and polite; for Mrs. Westfall came in, brisk and hearty, andset the meat upon the table. After that, it was she who talked. Theguests ate scrupulously, muttering, "Yes, ma'am, " and "No, ma'am, " intheir plates, while their hostess told them of increasing families uponBear Creek, and the expected school-teacher, and little Alfred's earlyteething, and how it was time for all of them to become husbands likeJames. The bachelors of the saddle listened, always diffident, but eating heartily to the end; and soon after they rode away in athoughtful clump. The wives of Bear Creek were few as yet, and the homesscattered; the schoolhouse was only a sprig on the vast face of a worldof elk and bear and uncertain Indians; but that night, when the earthnear the fire was littered with the cow-punchers' beds, the Virginianwas heard drawling to himself: "Alfred and Christopher. Oh, sugar!"

They found pleasure in the delicately chosen shade of this oath. He alsorecited to them a new verse about how he took his Looloo girl to theschoolhouse for to learn her A B C; and as it was quite original andunprintable, the camp laughed and swore joyfully, and rolled in itsblankets to sleep under the stars. 

Upon a Monday noon likewise (for things will happen so) some tearfulpeople in petticoats waved handkerchiefs at a train that was justleaving Bennington, Vermont. A girl's face smiled back at them once, andwithdrew quickly, for they must not see the smile die away. 

She had with her a little money, a few clothes, and in her mind a rigiddetermination neither to be a burden to her mother nor to give in tothat mother's desires. Absence alone would enable her to carry outthis determination. Beyond these things, she possessed not much exceptspelling-books, a colonial miniature, and that craving for the unknownwhich has been mentioned. If the ancestors that we carry shut up insideus take turns in dictating to us our actions and our state of mind, undoubtedly Grandmother Stark was empress of Molly's spirit upon thisMonday. 

At Hoosic Junction, which came soon, she passed the up-train bound backto her home, and seeing the engineer and the conductor, --faces that sheknew well, --her courage nearly failed her, and she shut her eyes againstthis glimpse of the familiar things that she was leaving. To keepherself steady she gripped tightly a little bunch of flowers in herhand. 

But something caused her eyes to open; and there before her stood SamBannett, asking if he might accompany her so far as Rotterdam Junction. 

"No!" she told him with a severity born from the struggle she was makingwith her grief. "Not a mile with me. Not to Eagle Bridge. Good-by. "

And Sam--what did he do? He obeyed her, I should like to be sorry forhim. But obedience was not a lover's part here. He hesitated, the goldenmoment hung hovering, the conductor cried "All aboard!" the train went, and there on the platform stood obedient Sam, with his golden momentgone like a butterfly. 

After Rotterdam Junction, which was some forty minutes farther, MollyWood sat bravely up in the through car, dwelling upon the unknown. Shethought that she had attained it in Ohio, on Tuesday morning, and wrotea letter about it to Bennington. On Wednesday afternoon she felt sure, and wrote a letter much more picturesque. But on the following day, after breakfast at North Platte, Nebraska, she wrote a very long letterindeed, and told them that she had seen a black pig on a white pile ofbuffalo bones, catching drops of water in the air as they fell from therailroad tank. She also wrote that trees were extraordinarily scarce. Each hour westward from the pig confirmed this opinion, and when sheleft the train at Rock Creek, late upon that fourth night, --in thosedays the trains were slower, --she knew that she had really attained theunknown, and sent an expensive telegram to say that she was quite well. 

At six in the morning the stage drove away into the sage-brush, with heras its only passenger; and by sundown she had passed through some of theprimitive perils of the world. The second team, virgin to harness, anddispleased with this novelty, tried to take it off, and went down to thebottom of a gully on its eight hind legs, while Miss Wood sat mute andunflinching beside the driver. Therefore he, when it was over, and theyon the proper road again, invited her earnestly to be his wife duringmany of the next fifteen miles, and told her of his snug cabin and hishorses and his mine. Then she got down and rode inside, Independence andGrandmother Stark shining in her eye. At Point of Rocks, where they hadsupper and his drive ended, her face distracted his heart, and he toldher once more about his cabin, and lamentably hoped she would rememberhim. She answered sweetly that she would try, and gave him her hand. After all, he was a frank-looking boy, who had paid her the highestcompliment that a boy (or a man for that matter) knows; and it is saidthat Molly Stark, in her day, was not a New Woman. 

The new driver banished the first one from the maiden's mind. He was nota frank-looking boy, and he had been taking whiskey. All night long hetook it, while his passenger, helpless and sleepless inside the lurchingstage, sat as upright as she possibly could; nor did the voices that sheheard at Drybone reassure her. Sunrise found the white stage lurchingeternally on across the alkali, with a driver and a bottle on thebox, and a pale girl staring out at the plain, and knotting in herhandkerchief some utterly dead flowers. They came to a river where theman bungled over the ford. Two wheels sank down over an edge, and thecanvas toppled like a descending kite. The ripple came sucking throughthe upper spokes, and as she felt the seat careen, she put out herhead and tremulously asked if anything was wrong. But the driver wasaddressing his team with much language, and also with the lash. 

Then a tall rider appeared close against the buried axles, and took herout of the stage on his horse so suddenly that she screamed. She feltsplashes, saw a swimming flood, and found herself lifted down upon theshore. The rider said something to her about cheering up, and its beingall right, but her wits were stock-still, so she did not speak and thankhim. After four days of train and thirty hours of stage, she was havinga little too much of the unknown at once. Then the tall man gentlywithdrew leaving her to become herself again. She limply regarded theriver pouring round the slanted stage, and a number of horsemen withropes, who righted the vehicle, and got it quickly to dry land, anddisappeared at once with a herd of cattle, uttering lusty yells. 

She saw the tall one delaying beside the driver, and speaking. He spokeso quietly that not a word reached her, until of a sudden the driverprotested loudly. The man had thrown something, which turned out to bea bottle. This twisted loftily and dived into the stream. He saidsomething more to the driver, then put his hand on the saddle-horn, looked half-lingeringly at the passenger on the bank, dropped hisgrave eyes from hers, and swinging upon his horse, was gone just as thepassenger opened her mouth and with inefficient voice murmured, "Oh, thank you!" at his departing back. 

The driver drove up now, a chastened creature. He helped Miss Wood in, and inquired after her welfare with a hanging head; then meek as his owndrenched horses, he climbed back to his reins, and nursed the stage ontoward the Bow Leg Mountains much as if it had been a perambulator. 

As for Miss Wood, she sat recovering, and she wondered what the man onthe horse must think of her. She knew that she was not ungrateful, andthat if he had given her an opportunity she would have explained to him. If he supposed that she did not appreciate his act--Here into the midstof these meditations came an abrupt memory that she had screamed--shecould not be sure when. She rehearsed the adventure from the beginning, and found one or two further uncertainties--how it had all been whileshe was on the horse, for instance. It was confusing to determineprecisely what she had done with her arms. She knew where one of hisarms had been. And the handkerchief with the flowers was gone. She madea few rapid dives in search of it. Had she, or had she not, seen himputting something in his pocket? And why had she behaved so unlikeherself? In a few miles Miss Wood entertained sentiments of maidenlyresentment toward her rescuer, and of maidenly hope to see him again. 

To that river crossing he came again, alone, when the days were growingshort. The ford was dry sand, and the stream a winding lane ofshingle. He found a pool, --pools always survive the year round in thisstream, --and having watered his pony, he lunched near the spot towhich he had borne the frightened passenger that day. Where the flowingcurrent had been he sat, regarding the now extremely safe channel. 

"She cert'nly wouldn't need to grip me so close this mawnin', " he said, as he pondered over his meal. "I reckon it will mightily astonish herwhen I tell her how harmless the torrent is lookin'. " He held out tohis pony a slice of bread matted with sardines, which the pony expertlyaccepted. "You're a plumb pie-biter you Monte, " he continued. Monterubbed his nose on his master's shoulder. "I wouldn't trust you withberries and cream. No, seh; not though yu' did rescue a drownin' lady. "

Presently he tightened the forward cinch, got in the saddle, and thepony fell into his wise mechanical jog; for he had come a long way, andwas going a long way, and he knew this as well as the man did. 

To use the language of Cattle Land, steers had "jumped to seventy-five. "This was a great and prosperous leap in their value. To have flourishedin that golden time you need not be dead now, nor even middle-aged; butit is Wyoming mythology already--quite as fabulous as the high-jumpingcow. Indeed, people gathered together and behaved themselves much inthe same pleasant and improbable way. Johnson County, and Natrona, andConverse, and others, to say nothing of the Cheyenne Club, had beenjumping over the moon for some weeks, all on account of steers; andon the strength of this vigorous price of seventy-five, the StantonBrothers were giving a barbecue at the Goose Egg outfit, their ranch onBear Creek. Of course the whole neighborhood was bidden, and would comeforty miles to a man; some would come further--the Virginian was cominga hundred and eighteen. It had struck him--rather suddenly, as shall bemade plain--that he should like to see how they were getting along upthere on Bear Creek. "They, " was how he put it to his acquaintances. Hisacquaintances did not know that he had bought himself a pair of trousersand a scarf, unnecessarily excellent for such a general visit. Theydid not know that in the spring, two days after the adventure with thestage, he had learned accidentally who the lady in the stage was. Thishe had kept to himself; nor did the camp ever notice that he had ceasedto sing that eightieth stanza he had made about the A B C--the stanzawhich was not printable. He effaced it imperceptibly, giving the boysthe other seventy-nine at judicious intervals. They dreamed of no guile, but merely saw in him, whether frequenting camp or town, the same notover-angelic comrade whom they valued and could not wholly understand. 

All spring he had ridden trail, worked at ditches during summer, andnow he had just finished with the beef round-up. Yesterday, while he wasspending a little comfortable money at the Drybone hog-ranch, a casualtraveller from the north gossiped of Bear Creek, and the fences upthere, and the farm crops, the Westfalls, and the young schoolmarm fromVermont, for whom the Taylors had built a cabin next door to theirs. Thetraveller had not seen her, but Mrs. Taylor and all the ladies thoughtthe world of her, and Lin McLean had told him she was "away up in G. "She would have plenty of partners at this Swinton barbecue. Great boonfor the country, wasn't it, steers jumping that way?

The Virginian heard, asking no questions; and left town in an hour, with the scarf and trousers tied in his slicker behind his saddle. Afterlooking upon the ford again, even though it was dry and not at all thesame place, he journeyed in attentively. When you have been hard atwork for months with no time to think, of course you think a great dealduring your first empty days. "Step along, you Monte hawss!" he said, rousing after some while. He disciplined Monte, who flattened his earsaffectedly and snorted. "Why, you surely ain' thinkin' of you'-self asa hero? She wasn't really a-drowndin', you pie-biter. " He rested hisserious glance upon the alkali. "She's not likely to have forgot thatmix-up, though. I guess I'll not remind her about grippin' me, and allthat. She wasn't the kind a man ought to josh about such things. She hada right clear eye. " Thus, tall and loose in the saddle, did he jog alongthe sixty miles which still lay between him and the dance. 

X. WHERE FANCY WAS BRED

Two camps in the open, and the Virginian's Monte horse, untired, broughthim to the Swintons' in good time for the barbecue. The horse receivedgood food at length, while his rider was welcomed with good whiskey. GOOD whiskey--for had not steers jumped to seventy-five?

Inside the Goose Egg kitchen many small delicacies were preparing, anda steer was roasting whole outside. The bed of flame under it showedsteadily brighter against the dusk that was beginning to veil thelowlands. The busy hosts went and came, while men stood and men lay nearthe fire-glow. Chalkeye was there, and Nebrasky, and Trampas, andHoney Wiggin, with others, enjoying the occasion; but Honey Wiggin wasenjoying himself: he had an audience; he was sitting up discoursing toit. 

"Hello!" he said, perceiving the Virginian. "So you've dropped in foryour turn! Number--six, ain't he, boys?"

"Depends who's a-runnin' the countin', " said the Virginian, andstretched himself down among the audience. 

"I've saw him number one when nobody else was around, " said Trampas. 

"How far away was you standin' when you beheld that?" inquired thelounging Southerner. 

"Well, boys, " said Wiggin, "I expect it will be Miss Schoolmarm sayswho's number one to-night. "

"So she's arrived in this hyeh country?" observed the Virginian, verycasually. 

"Arrived!" said Trampas again. "Where have you been grazing lately?"

"A right smart way from the mules. "

"Nebrasky and the boys was tellin' me they'd missed yu' off the range, "again interposed Wiggin. "Say, Nebrasky, who have yu' offered yourcanary to the schoolmarm said you mustn't give her?"

Nebrasky grinned wretchedly. 

"Well, she's a lady, and she's square, not takin' a man's gift when shedon't take the man. But you'd ought to get back all them letters yu'wrote her. Yu' sure ought to ask her for them tell-tales. "

"Ah, pshaw, Honey!" protested the youth. It was well known that he couldnot write his name. 

"Why, if here ain't Bokay Baldy!" cried the agile Wiggin, stooping tofresh prey. "Found them slippers yet, Baldy? Tell yu' boys, that wasturruble sad luck Baldy had. Did yu' hear about that? Baldy, yu' know, he can stay on a tame horse most as well as the schoolmarm. But just yougive him a pair of young knittin'-needles and see him make 'em sweat!He worked an elegant pair of slippers with pink cabbages on 'em for MissWood. "

"I bought 'em at Medicine Bow, " blundered Baldy. 

"So yu' did!" assented the skilful comedian. "Baldy he bought 'em. Andon the road to her cabin there at the Taylors' he got thinkin' theymight be too big, and he got studyin' what to do. And he fixed up totell her about his not bein' sure of the size, and how she was to lethim know if they dropped off her, and he'd exchange' 'em, and when hegot right near her door, why, he couldn't find his courage. And so heslips the parcel under the fence and starts serenadin' her. But sheain't inside her cabin at all. She's at supper next door with theTaylors, and Baldy singin' 'Love has conqwered pride and angwer' to alone house. Lin McLean was comin' up by Taylor's corral, where Taylor'sTexas bull was. Well, it was turruble sad. Baldy's pants got tore, buthe fell inside the fence, and Lin druv the bull back and somebody stolethem Medicine Bow galoshes. Are you goin' to knit her some more, Bokay?"

"About half that ain't straight, " Baldy commented, with mildness. 

"The half that was tore off yer pants? Well, never mind, Baldy; Lin willget left too, same as all of yu'. "

"Is there many?" inquired the Virginian. He was still stretched on hisback, looking up at the sky. 

"I don't know how many she's been used to where she was raised, " Wigginanswered. "A kid stage-driver come from Point of Rocks one day and wentback the next. Then the foreman of the 76 outfit, and the horse-wranglerfrom the Bar-Circle-L, and two deputy marshals, with punchers, stringin'right along, --all got their tumble. Old Judge Burrage from Cheyenne comeup in August for a hunt and stayed round here and never hunted at all. There was that horse thief--awful good-lookin'. Taylor wanted to warnher about him, but Mrs. Taylor said she'd look after her if it wasneeded. Mr. Horse-thief gave it up quicker than most; but the schoolmarmcouldn't have knowed he had a Mrs. Horse-thief camped on Poison Spidertill afterwards. She wouldn't go ridin' with him. She'll go with some, takin' a kid along. "

"Bah!" said Trampas. 

The Virginian stopped looking at the sky, and watched Trampas from wherehe lay. 

"I think she encourages a man some, " said poor Nebrasky. 

"Encourages? Because she lets yu' teach her how to shoot, " said Wiggin. "Well--I don't guess I'm a judge. I've always kind o' kep' away fromthem good women. Don't seem to think of anything to chat about to 'em. The only folks I'd say she encourages is the school kids. She kissesthem. "

"Riding and shooting and kissing the kids, " sneered Trampas. "That's aheap too pussy-kitten for me. "

They laughed. The sage-brush audience is readily cynical. 

"Look for the man, I say, " Trampas pursued. "And ain't he there? Sheleaves Baldy sit on the fence while she and Lin McLean--"

They laughed loudly at the blackguard picture which he drew; and thelaugh stopped short, for the Virginian stood over Trampas. 

"You can rise up now, and tell them you lie, " he said. 

The man was still for a moment in the dead silence. "I thought youclaimed you and her wasn't acquainted, " said he then. 

"Stand on your laigs, you polecat, and say you're a liar!"

Trampas's hand moved behind him. 

"Quit that, " said the Southerner, "or I'll break your neck!"

The eye of a man is the prince of deadly weapons. Trampas looked in theVirginian's, and slowly rose. "I didn't mean--" he began, and paused, his face poisonously bloated. 

"Well, I'll call that sufficient. Keep a-standin' still. I ain' goingto trouble yu' long. In admittin' yourself to be a liar you have spokeGod's truth for onced. Honey Wiggin, you and me and the boys have hittown too frequent for any of us to play Sunday on the balance ofthe gang. " He stopped and surveyed Public Opinion, seated around incarefully inexpressive attention. "We ain't a Christian outfit a littlebit, and maybe we have most forgotten what decency feels like. But Ireckon we haven't forgot what it means. You can sit down now, if youwant. "

The liar stood and sneered experimentally, looking at Public Opinion. But this changeful deity was no longer with him, and he heard itvariously assenting, "That's so, " and "She's a lady, " and otherwiseexcellently moralizing. So he held his peace. When, however, theVirginian had departed to the roasting steer, and Public Opinion relaxedinto that comfort which we all experience when the sermon ends, Trampassat down amid the reviving cheerfulness, and ventured again to befacetious. 

"Shut your rank mouth, " said Wiggin to him, amiably. "I don't carewhether he knows her or if he done it on principle. I'll accept theroundin' up he gave us--and say! You'll swallo' your dose, too! Usboys'll stand in with him in this. "

So Trampas swallowed. And what of the Virginian?

He had championed the feeble, and spoken honorably in meeting, andaccording to all the constitutions and by-laws of morality, he shouldhave been walking in virtue's especial calm. But there it was! he hadspoken; he had given them a peep through the key-hole at his innerman; and as he prowled away from the assemblage before whom he stoodconvicted of decency, it was vicious rather than virtuous that he felt. Other matters also disquieted him--so Lin McLean was hanging round thatschoolmarm! Yet he joined Ben Swinton in a seemingly Christian spirit. He took some whiskey and praised the size of the barrel, speaking withhis host like this: "There cert'nly ain' goin' to be trouble about asecond helpin'. "

"Hope not. We'd ought to have more trimmings, though. We're shy onducks. "

"Yu' have the barrel. Has Lin McLean seen that?"

"No. We tried for ducks away down as far as the Laparel outfit. A realbarbecue--"

"There's large thirsts on Bear Creek. Lin McLean will pass on ducks. "

"Lin's not thirsty this month. "

"Signed for one month, has he?"

"Signed! He's spooning our schoolmarm!"

"They claim she's a right sweet-faced girl. "

"Yes; yes; awful agreeable. And next thing you're fooled clean through. "

"Yu' don't say!"

"She keeps a-teaching the darned kids, and it seems like a goodgrowed-up man can't interest her. "

"YU' DON'T SAY!"

"There used to be all the ducks you wanted at the Laparel, but theirfool cook's dead stuck on raising turkeys this year. "

"That must have been mighty close to a drowndin' the schoolmarm got atSouth Fork. "

"Why, I guess not. When? She's never spoken of any such thing--that I'veheard. "

"Mos' likely the stage-driver got it wrong, then. "

"Yes. Must have drownded somebody else. Here they come! That's herridin' the horse. There's the Westfalls. Where are you running to?"

"To fix up. Got any soap around hyeh?"

"Yes, " shouted Swinton, for the Virginian was now some distance away;"towels and everything in the dugout. " And he went to welcome his firstformal guests. 

The Virginian reached his saddle under a shed. "So she's never mentionedit, " said he, untying his slicker for the trousers and scarf. "Ididn't notice Lin anywheres around her. " He was over in the dugout now, whipping off his overalls; and soon he was excellently clean and ready, except for the tie in his scarf and the part in his hair. "I'd haveknowed her in Greenland, " he remarked. He held the candle up and down atthe looking-glass, and the looking-glass up and down at his head. "It'smighty strange why she ain't mentioned that. " He worried the scarf afold or two further, and at length, a trifle more than satisfied withhis appearance, he proceeded most serenely toward the sound of thetuning fiddles. He passed through the store-room behind the kitchen, stepping lightly lest he should rouse the ten or twelve babies that layon the table or beneath it. On Bear Creek babies and children alwayswent with their parents to a dance, because nurses were unknown. Solittle Alfred and Christopher lay there among the wraps, parallel andcrosswise with little Taylors, and little Carmodys, and Lees, and allthe Bear Creek offspring that was not yet able to skip at large andhamper its indulgent elders in the ball-room. 

"Why, Lin ain't hyeh yet!" said the Virginian, looking in upon thepeople. There was Miss Wood, standing up for the quadrille. "I didn'tremember her hair was that pretty, " said he. "But ain't she a little, little girl!"

Now she was in truth five feet three; but then he could look away downon the top of her head. 

"Salute your honey!" called the first fiddler. All partners bowed toeach other, and as she turned, Miss Wood saw the man in the doorway. Again, as it had been at South Fork that day, his eyes dropped fromhers, and she divining instantly why he had come after half a year, thought of the handkerchief and of that scream of hers in the river, andbecame filled with tyranny and anticipation; for indeed he was fine tolook upon. So she danced away, carefully unaware of his existence. 

"First lady, centre!" said her partner, reminding her of her turn. "Haveyou forgotten how it goes since last time?"

Molly Wood did not forget again, but quadrilled with the most sprightlydevotion. 

"I see some new faces to-night, " said she, presently. 

"Yu' always do forget our poor faces, " said her partner. 

"Oh, no! There's a stranger now. Who is that black man?"

"Well--he's from Virginia, and he ain't allowin' he's black. "

"He's a tenderfoot, I suppose?"

"Ha, ha, ha! That's rich, too!" and so the simple partner explained agreat deal about the Virginian to Molly Wood. At the end of the set shesaw the man by the door take a step in her direction. 

"Oh, " said she, quickly, to the partner, "how warm it is! I must seehow those babies are doing. " And she passed the Virginian in a breeze ofunconcern. 

His eyes gravely lingered where she had gone. "She knowed me rightaway, " said he. He looked for a moment, then leaned against the door. "'How warm it is!' said she. Well, it ain't so screechin' hot hyeh; andas for rushin' after Alfred and Christopher, when their natural mothehis bumpin' around handy--she cert'nly can't be offended?" he brokeoff, and looked again where she had gone. And then Miss Wood passed himbrightly again, and was dancing the schottische almost immediately. "Oh, yes, she knows me, " the swarthy cow-puncher mused. "She has totake trouble not to see me. And what she's a-fussin' at is mightyinterestin'. Hello!"

"Hello!" returned Lin McLean, sourly. He had just looked into thekitchen. 

"Not dancin'?" the Southerner inquired. 

"Don't know how. "

"Had scyarlet fever and forgot your past life?"

Len grinned. 

"Better persuade the schoolmarm to learn it. She's goin' to give meinstruction. "

"Huh!" went Mr. McLean, and skulked out to the barrel. 

"Why, they claimed you weren't drinkin' this month!" said his friend, following. 

"Well, I am. Here's luck!" The two pledged in tin cups. "But I'm notwaltzin' with her, " blurted Mr. McLean grievously. "She called me anexception. "

"Waltzin', " repeated the Virginian quickly, and hearing the fiddles hehastened away. 

Few in the Bear Creek Country could waltz, and with these few itwas mostly an unsteered and ponderous exhibition; therefore was theSoutherner bent upon profiting by his skill. He entered the room, and his lady saw him come where she sat alone for the moment, and herthoughts grew a little hurried. 

"Will you try a turn, ma'am?"

"I beg your pardon?" It was a remote, well-schooled eye that she liftednow upon him. 

"If you like a waltz, ma'am, will you waltz with me?"

"You're from Virginia, I understand?" said Molly Wood, regarding himpolitely, but not rising. One gains authority immensely by keeping one'sseat. All good teachers know this. 

"Yes, ma'am, from Virginia. "

"I've heard that Southerners have such good manners. "

"That's correct. " The cow-puncher flushed, but he spoke in hisunvaryingly gentle voice. 

"For in New England, you know, " pursued Miss Molly, noting his scarf andclean-shaven chin, and then again steadily meeting his eye, "gentlemenask to be presented to ladies before they ask them to waltz. "

He stood a moment before her, deeper and deeper scarlet; and the moreshe saw his handsome face, the keener rose her excitement. She waitedfor him to speak of the river; for then she was going to be surprised, and gradually to remember, and finally to be very nice to him. But hedid not wait. "I ask your pardon, lady, " said he, and bowing, walkedoff, leaving her at once afraid that he might not come back. But she hadaltogether mistaken her man. Back he came serenely with Mr. Taylor, andwas duly presented to her. Thus were the conventions vindicated. 

It can never be known what the cow-puncher was going to say next; forUncle Hughey stepped up with a glass of water which he had left Wood tobring, and asking for a turn, most graciously received it. She dancedaway from a situation where she began to feel herself getting theworst of it. One moment the Virginian stared at his lady as she lightlycirculated, and then he went out to the barrel. 

Leave him for Uncle Hershey! Jealousy is a deep and delicate thing, andworks its spite in many ways. The Virginian had been ready to look atLin McLean with a hostile eye; but finding him now beside the barrel, hefelt a brotherhood between himself and Lin, and his hostility had takena new and whimsical direction. 

"Here's how!" said he to McLean. And they pledged each other in the tincups. 

"Been gettin' them instructions?" said Mr. McLean, grinning. "I thoughtI saw yu' learning your steps through the window. "

"Here's your good health, " said the Southerner. Once more they pledgedeach other handsomely. 

"Did she call you an exception, or anything?" said Lin. 

"Well, it would cipher out right close in that neighborhood. "

"Here's how, then!" cried the delighted Lin, over his cup. 

"Jest because yu' happen to come from Vermont, " continued Mr. McLean, "is no cause for extra pride. Shoo! I was raised in Massachusettsmyself, and big men have been raised there, too, --Daniel Webster andIsrael Putnam: and a lot of them politicians. "

"Virginia is a good little old state, " observed the Southerner. 

"Both of 'em's a sight ahead of Vermont. She told me I was the firstexception she'd struck. "

"What rule were you provin' at the time, Lin?"

"Well yu' see, I started to kiss her. "

"Yu' didn't!"

"Shucks! I didn't mean nothin'. "

"I reckon yu' stopped mighty sudden?"

"Why, I'd been ridin' out with her--ridin' to school, ridin' fromschool, and a-comin' and a-goin', and she chattin' cheerful and askin'me a heap o' questions all about myself every day, and I not lyin' muchneither. And so I figured she wouldn't mind. Lots of 'em like it. Butshe didn't, you bet!"

"No, " said the Virginian, deeply proud of his lady who had slighted him. He had pulled her out of the water once, and he had been her unrewardedknight even to-day, and he felt his grievance; but he spoke not of itto Lin; for he felt also, in memory, her arms clinging round him as hecarried her ashore upon his horse. But he muttered, "Plumb ridiculous!"as her injustice struck him afresh, while the outraged McLean told histale. 

"Trample is what she has done on me to-night, and without notice. We wasstartin' to come here; Taylor and Mrs. Were ahead in the buggy, and Iwas holdin' her horse, and helpin' her up in the saddle, like I done fordays and days. Who was there to see us? And I figured she'd not mind, and she calls me an exception! Yu'd ought to've just heard her aboutWestern men respectin' women. So that's the last word we've spoke. We come twenty-five miles then, she scootin' in front, and her horsekickin' the sand in my face. Mrs. Taylor, she guessed something was up, but she didn't tell. "

"Miss Wood did not tell?"

"Not she! She'll never open her head. She can take care of herself, youbet!" The fiddles sounded hilariously in the house, and the feet also. They had warmed up altogether, and their dancing figures crossed thewindows back and forth. The two cow-punchers drew near to a window andlooked in gloomily. 

"There she goes, " said Lin. 

"With Uncle Hughey again, " said the Virginian, sourly. "Yu' mightsuppose he didn't have a wife and twins, to see the way he goesgambollin' around. "

"Westfall is takin' a turn with her now, " said McLean. 

"James!" exclaimed the Virginian. "He's another with a wife and fam'ly, and he gets the dancin', too. "

"There she goes with Taylor, " said Lin, presently. 

"Another married man!" the Southerner commented. They prowled round tothe store-room, and passed through the kitchen to where the dancers wererobustly tramping. Miss Wood was still the partner of Mr. Taylor. "Let'shave some whiskey, " said the Virginian. They had it, and returned, andthe Virginian's disgust and sense of injury grew deeper. "Old Carmodyhas got her now, " he drawled. "He polkas like a landslide. She learnshis monkey-faced kid to spell dog and cow all the mawnin'. He'd ought tobe tucked up cosey in his bed right now, old Carmody ought. "

They were standing in that place set apart for the sleeping children;and just at this moment one of two babies that were stowed beneatha chair uttered a drowsy note. A much louder cry, indeed a chorus oflament, would have been needed to reach the ears of the parents in theroom beyond, such was the noisy volume of the dance. But in this quietplace the light sound caught Mr. McLean's attention, and he turned tosee if anything were wrong. But both babies were sleeping peacefully. 

"Them's Uncle Hughey's twins, " he said. 

"How do you happen to know that?" inquired the Virginian, suddenlyinterested. 

"Saw his wife put 'em under the chair so she could find 'em right offwhen she come to go home. "

"Oh, " said the Virginian, thoughtfully. "Oh, find 'em right off. Yes. Uncle Hughey's twins. " He walked to a spot from which he could view thedance. "Well, " he continued, returning, "the schoolmarm must have takenquite a notion to Uncle Hughey. He has got her for this quadrille. " TheVirginian was now speaking without rancor; but his words came with aslightly augmented drawl, and this with him was often a bad omen. Henow turned his eyes upon the collected babies wrapped in variouscolored shawls and knitted work. "Nine, ten, eleven, beautiful sleepin'strangers, " he counted, in a sweet voice. "Any of 'em your'n, Lin?"

"Not that I know of, " grinned Mr. McLean. 

"Eleven, twelve. This hyeh is little Christopher in the blue-stripequilt--or maybe that other yello'-head is him. The angels have commencedto drop in on us right smart along Bear Creek, Lin. "

"What trash are yu' talkin' anyway?"

"If they look so awful alike in the heavenly gyarden, " the gentleSoutherner continued, "I'd just hate to be the folks that has thecuttin' of 'em out o' the general herd. And that's a right quaint notiontoo, " he added softly. "Them under the chair are Uncle Hughey's, didn'tyou tell me?" And stooping, he lifted the torpid babies and placed thembeneath a table. "No, that ain't thorough, " he murmured. With wonderfuldexterity and solicitude for their wellfare, he removed the loose wrapwhich was around them, and this soon led to an intricate process ofexchange. For a moment Mr. McLean had been staring at the Virginian, puzzled. Then, with a joyful yelp of enlightenment, he sprang to abethim. 

And while both busied themselves with the shawls and quilts, theunconscious parents went dancing vigorously on, and the small, occasional cries of their progeny did not reach them. 

XI. "YOU RE GOING TO LOVE ME BEFORE WE GET THROUGH"

The Swinton barbecue was over. The fiddles were silent, the steer waseaten, the barrel emptied, or largely so, and the tapers extinguished;round the house and sunken fire all movement of guests was quiet;the families were long departed homeward, and after their hospitableturbulence, the Swintons slept. 

Mr. And Mrs. Westfall drove through the night, and as they neared theircabin there came from among the bundled wraps a still, small voice. 

"Jim, " said his wife, "I said Alfred would catch cold. "

"Bosh! Lizzie, don't you fret. He's a little more than a yearlin', andof course he'll snuffle. " And young James took a kiss from his love. 

"Well, how you can speak of Alfred that way, calling him a yearling, asif he was a calf, and he just as much your child as mine, I don't see, James Westfall!"

"Why, what under the sun do you mean?"

"There he goes again! Do hurry up home, Jim. He's got a real strangecough. "

So they hurried home. Soon the nine miles were finished, and goodJames was unhitching by his stable lantern, while his wife in the househastened to commit their offspring to bed. The traces had dropped, andeach horse marched forward for further unbuckling, when James heardhimself called. Indeed, there was that in his wife's voice which madehim jerk out his pistol as he ran. But it was no bear or Indian--onlytwo strange children on the bed. His wife was glaring at them. 

He sighed with relief and laid down the pistol. 

"Put that on again, James Westfall. You'll need it. Look here!"

"Well, they won't bite. Whose are they? Where have you stowed ourn?"

"Where have I--" Utterance forsook this mother for a moment. "And youask me!" she continued. "Ask Lin McLean. Ask him that sets bulls onfolks and steals slippers, what he's done with our innocent lambs, mixing them up with other people's coughing, unhealthy brats. That'sCharlie Taylor in Alfred's clothes, and I know Alfred didn't cough likethat, and I said to you it was strange; and the other one that's beenput in Christopher's new quilts is not even a bub--bub--boy!"

As this crime against society loomed clear to James Westfall'sunderstanding, he sat down on the nearest piece of furniture, andheedless of his wife's tears and his exchanged children, broke intounregenerate laughter. Doubtless after his sharp alarm about the bear, he was unstrung. His lady, however, promptly restrung him; and by thetime they had repacked the now clamorous changelings, and were rattlingon their way to the Taylors', he began to share her outraged feelingsproperly, as a husband and a father should; but when he reached theTaylors' and learned from Miss Wood that at this house a child hadbeen unwrapped whom nobody could at all identify, and that Mr. And Mrs. Taylor were already far on the road to the Swintons', James Westfallwhipped up his horses and grew almost as thirsty for revenge as was hiswife. 

Where the steer had been roasted, the powdered ashes were now coldwhite, and Mr. McLean, feeling through his dreams the change of dawncome over the air, sat up cautiously among the outdoor slumberers andwaked his neighbor. 

"Day will be soon, " he whispered, "and we must light out of this. Inever suspicioned yu' had that much of the devil in you before. "

"I reckon some of the fellows will act haidstrong, " the Virginianmurmured luxuriously, among the warmth of his blankets. 

"I tell yu' we must skip, " said Lin, for the second time; and he rubbedthe Virginian's black head, which alone was visible. 

"Skip, then, you, " came muffled from within, "and keep you'self mightysca'ce till they can appreciate our frolic. "

The Southerner withdrew deeper into his bed, and Mr. McLean, informinghim that he was a fool, arose and saddled his horse. From thesaddle-bag, he brought a parcel, and lightly laying this beside BokayBaldy, he mounted and was gone. When Baldy awoke later, he found theparcel to be a pair of flowery slippers. 

In selecting the inert Virginian as the fool, Mr. McLean was scarcelywise; it is the absent who are always guilty. 

Before ever Lin could have been a mile in retreat, the rattle ofthe wheels roused all of them, and here came the Taylors. Before theTaylors' knocking had brought the Swintons to their door, other wheelssounded, and here were Mr. And Mrs. Carmody, and Uncle Hughey with hiswife, and close after them Mr. Dow, alone, who told how his wife hadgone into one of her fits--she upon whom Dr. Barker at Drybone hadenjoined total abstinence from all excitement. Voices of women andchildren began to be up lifted; the Westfalls arrived in a lather, and the Thomases; and by sunrise, what with fathers and mothers andspectators and loud offspring, there was gathered such a meeting as hasseldom been before among the generations of speaking men. To-day you canhear legends of it from Texas to Montana; but I am giving you the fullparticulars. 

Of course they pitched upon poor Lin. Here was the Virginian doinghis best, holding horses and helping ladies descend, while the name ofMcLean began to be muttered with threats. Soon a party led by Mr. Dowset forth in search of him, and the Southerner debated a moment if hehad better not put them on a wrong track. But he concluded that theymight safely go on searching. 

Mrs. Westfall found Christopher at once in the green shawl of AnnaMaria Dow, but all was not achieved thus in the twinkling of an eye. Mr. McLean had, it appeared, as James Westfall lugubriously pointed out, notmerely "swapped the duds; he had shuffled the whole doggone deck;" andthey cursed this Satanic invention. The fathers were but of moderateassistance; it was the mothers who did the heavy work; and by teno'clock some unsolved problems grew so delicate that a ladies' caucuswas organized in a private room, --no admittance for men, --and what wasdone there I can only surmise. 

During its progress the search party returned. It had not found Mr. McLean. It had found a tree with a notice pegged upon it, reading, "Godbless our home!" This was captured. 

But success attended the caucus; each mother emerged, satisfied thatshe had received her own, and each sire, now that his family was itselfagain, began to look at his neighbor sideways. After a man has beenangry enough to kill another man, after the fire of righteous slaughterhas raged in his heart as it had certainly raged for several hours inthe hearts of these fathers, the flame will usually burn itself out. This will be so in a generous nature, unless the cause of the anger isstill unchanged. But the children had been identified; none had takenhurt. All had been humanely given their nourishment. The thing was over. The day was beautiful. A tempting feast remained from the barbecue. These Bear Creek fathers could not keep their ire at red heat. Mostof them, being as yet more their wives' lovers than their children'sparents, began to see the mirthful side of the adventure; and theyceased to feel very severely toward Lin McLean. 

Not so the women. They cried for vengeance; but they cried in vain, andwere met with smiles. 

Mrs. Westfall argued long that punishment should be dealt the offender. "Anyway, " she persisted, "it was real defiant of him putting that up onthe tree. I might forgive him but for that. "

"Yes, " spoke the Virginian in their midst, "that wasn't sort o' right. Especially as I am the man you're huntin'. "

They sat dumb at his assurance. 

"Come and kill me, " he continued, round upon the party. "I'll notresist. "

But they could not resist the way in which he had looked round uponthem. He had chosen the right moment for his confession, as a captainof a horse awaits the proper time for a charge. Some rebukes he didreceive; the worst came from the mothers. And all that he could say forhimself was, "I am getting off too easy. "

"But what was your point?" said Westfall. 

"Blamed if I know any more. I expect it must have been the whiskey. "

"I would mind it less, " said Mrs. Westfall, "if you looked a bit sorryor ashamed. "

The Virginian shook his head at her penitently. "I'm tryin' to, " hesaid. 

And thus he sat disarming his accusers until they began to lunch uponthe copious remnants of the barbecue. He did not join them at this meal. In telling you that Mrs. Dow was the only lady absent upon this historicmorning, I was guilty of an inadvertence. There was one other. 

The Virginian rode away sedately through the autumn sunshine; and ashe went he asked his Monte horse a question. "Do yu' reckon she'll haveforgotten you too, you pie-biter?" said he. Instead of the new trousers, the cow-puncher's leathern chaps were on his legs. But he had the newscarf knotted at his neck. Most men would gladly have equalled him inappearance. "You Monte, " said he, "will she be at home?"

It was Sunday, and no school day, and he found her in her cabin thatstood next the Taylors' house. Her eyes were very bright. 

"I'd thought I'd just call, " said he. 

"Why, that's such a pity! Mr. And Mrs. Taylor are away. "

"Yes; they've been right busy. That's why I thought I'd call. Will yu'come for a ride, ma'am?"

"Dear me! I--"

"You can ride my hawss. He's gentle. "

"What! And you walk?"

"No, ma'am. Nor the two of us ride him THIS time, either. " At this sheturned entirely pink, and he, noticing, went on quietly: "I'll catch upone of Taylor's hawsses. Taylor knows me. "

"No. I don't really think I could do that. But thank you. Thank you verymuch. I must go now and see how Mrs. Taylor's fire is. "

"I'll look after that, ma'am. I'd like for yu' to go ridin' mighty well. Yu' have no babies this mawnin' to be anxious after. "

At this shaft, Grandmother Stark flashed awake deep within the spirit ofher descendant, and she made a haughty declaration of war. "I don't knowwhat you mean, sir, " she said. 

Now was his danger; for it was easy to fall into mere crude impertinenceand ask her why, then, did she speak thus abruptly? There were variouseasy things of this kind for him to say. And any rudeness would havelost him the battle. But the Virginian was not the man to lose sucha battle in such a way. His shaft had hit. She thought he referredto those babies about whom last night she had shown such superfluoussolicitude. Her conscience was guilty. This was all that he had wishedto make sure of before he began operations. 

"Why, I mean, " said he, easily, sitting down near the door, "that it'sSunday. School don't hinder yu' from enjoyin' a ride to-day. You'llteach the kids all the better for it to-morro', ma'am. Maybe it's yourduty. " And he smiled at her. 

"My duty! It's quite novel to have strangers--"

"Am I a stranger?" he cut in, firing his first broadside. "I wasintroduced, ma'am, " he continued, noting how she had flushed again. "AndI would not be oversteppin' for the world. I'll go away if yu' want. "And hereupon he quietly rose, and stood, hat in hand. 

Molly was flustered. She did not at all want him to go. No one ofher admirers had ever been like this creature. The fringed leathernchaparreros, the cartridge belt, the flannel shirt, the knotted scarf atthe neck, these things were now an old story to her. Since her arrivalshe had seen young men and old in plenty dressed thus. But worn by thisman now standing by her door, they seemed to radiate romance. She didnot want him to go--and she wished to win her battle. And now inher agitation she became suddenly severe, as she had done at HoosicJunction. He should have a punishment to remember!

"You call yourself a man, I suppose, " she said. 

But he did not tremble in the least. Her fierceness filled him withdelight, and the tender desire of ownership flooded through him. 

"A grown-up, responsible man, " she repeated. 

"Yes, ma'am. I think so. " He now sat down again. 

"And you let them think that--that Mr. McLean--You dare not look me inthe face and say that Mr. McLean did that last night!"

"I reckon I dassent. "

"There! I knew it! I said so from the first!"

"And me a stranger to you!" he murmured. 

It was his second broadside. It left her badly crippled. She was silent. 

"Who did yu' mention it to, ma'am?"

She hoped she had him. "Why, are you afraid?" And she laughed lightly. 

"I told 'em myself. And their astonishment seemed so genu-wine I'd justhate to think they had fooled me that thorough when they knowed it allalong from you seeing me. "

"I did not see you. I knew it must--of course I did not tell any one. When I said I said so from the first, I meant--you can understandperfectly what I meant. "

"Yes, ma'am. "

Poor Molly was near stamping her foot. "And what sort of a trick, " sherushed on, "was that to play? Do you call it a manly thing to frightenand distress women because you--for no reason at all? I should neverhave imagined it could be the act of a person who wears a big pistol andrides a big horse. I should be afraid to go riding with such an immatureprotector. "

"Yes; that was awful childish. Your words do cut a little; for maybethere's been times when I have acted pretty near like a man. But Icert'nly forgot to be introduced before I spoke to yu' last night. Because why? You've found me out dead in one thing. Won't you take aguess at this too?"

"I cannot sit guessing why people do not behave themselves--who seem toknow better. "

"Well, ma'am, I've played square and owned up to yu'. And that's notwhat you're doin' by me. I ask your pardon if I say what I have a rightto say in language not as good as I'd like to talk to yu' with. But atSouth Fork Crossin' who did any introducin'? Did yu' complain I was astranger then?"

"I--no!" she flashed out; then, quite sweetly, "The driver told me itwasn't REALLY so dangerous there, you know. "

"That's not the point I'm makin'. You are a grown-up woman, aresponsible woman. You've come ever so far, and all alone, to arough country to instruct young children that play games, --tag, andhide-and-seek, and fooleries they'll have to quit when they get old. Don't you think pretendin' yu' don't know a man, --his name's nothin', but him, --a man whom you were glad enough to let assist yu' whensomebody was needed, --don't you think that's mighty close tohide-and-seek them children plays? I ain't so sure but what there's apair of us children in this hyeh room. "

Molly Wood was regarding him saucily. "I don't think I like you, " saidshe. 

"That's all square enough. You're goin' to love me before we getthrough. I wish yu'd come a-ridin, ma'am. "

"Dear, dear, dear! So I'm going to love you? How will you do it? I knowmen think that they only need to sit and look strong and make chests ata girl--"

"Goodness gracious! I ain't makin' any chests at yu'!" Laughter overcamehim for a moment, and Miss Wood liked his laugh very much. "Please comea-ridin', " he urged. "It's the prettiest kind of a day. "

She looked at him frankly, and there was a pause. "I will take back twothings that I said to you, " she then answered him. "I believe that I dolike you. And I know that if I went riding with you, I should nothave an immature protector. " And then, with a final gesture ofacknowledgment, she held out her hand to him. "And I have alwayswanted, " she said, "to thank you for what you did at the river. "

He took her hand, and his heart bounded. "You're a gentleman!" heexclaimed. 

It was now her turn to be overcome with merriment. "I've always wantedto be a man, " she said. 

"I am mighty glad you ain't, " said he, looking at her. 

But Molly had already received enough broadsides for one day. She couldallow no more of them, and she took herself capably in hand. "Where didyou learn to make such pretty speeches?" she asked. "Well, never mindthat. One sees that you have had plenty of practice for one so young. "

"I am twenty-seven, " blurted the Virginian, and knew instantly that hehad spoken like a fool. 

"Who would have dreamed it!" said Molly, with well-measured mockery. Sheknew that she had scored at last, and that this day was hers. "Don'tbe too sure you are glad I'm not a man, " she now told him. There wassomething like a challenge in her voice. 

"I risk it, " he remarked. 

"For I am almost twenty-three myself, " she concluded. And she gave him alook on her own account. 

"And you'll not come a-ridin'?" he persisted. 

"No, " she answered him; "no. " And he knew that he could not make her. 

"Then I will tell yu' good-by, " said he. "But I am comin' again. Andnext time I'll have along a gentle hawss for yu'. "

"Next time! Next time! Well, perhaps I will go with you. Do you livefar?"

"I live on Judge Henry's ranch, over yondeh. " He pointed across themountains. "It's on Sunk Creek. A pretty rough trail; but I can comehyeh to see you in a day, I reckon. Well, I hope you'll cert'nly enjoygood health, ma'am. "

"Oh, there's one thing!" said Molly Wood, calling after him ratherquickly. "I--I'm not at all afraid of horses. You needn't bring sucha gentle one. I--was very tired that day, and--and I don't scream as arule. "

He turned and looked at her so that she could not meet his glance. "Bless your heart!" said he. "Will yu' give me one o' those flowers?"

"Oh, certainly! I'm always so glad when people like them. "

"They're pretty near the color of your eyes. "

"Never mind my eyes. "

"Can't help it, ma'am. Not since South Fork. "

He put the flower in the leather band of his hat, and rode away on hisMonte horse. Miss Wood lingered a moment, then made some steps towardher gate, from which he could still be seen; and then, with somethinglike a toss of the head, she went in and shut her door. 

Later in the day the Virginian met Mr. McLean, who looked at his hat andinnocently quoted. "'My Looloo picked a daisy. '"

"Don't yu', Lin, " said the Southerner. 

"Then I won't, " said Lin. 

Thus, for this occasion, did the Virginian part from his lady--andnothing said one way or another about the handkerchief that haddisappeared during the South Fork incident. 

As we fall asleep at night, our thoughts will often ramble back andforth between the two worlds. 

"What color were his eyes?" wondered Molly on her pillow. "His mustacheis not bristly like so many of them. Sam never gave me such a lookat Hoosic Junction. No.... You can't come with me.... Get off yourhorse.... The passengers are all staring.... "

And while Molly was thus dreaming that the Virginian had ridden hishorse into the railroad car, and sat down beside her, the fire in thegreat stone chimney of her cabin flickered quietly, its gleams now andagain touching the miniature of Grandmother Stark upon the wall. 

Camped on the Sunk Creek trail, the Virginian was telling himself in hisblankets: "I ain't too old for education. Maybe she will lend me books. And I'll watch her ways and learn... Stand still, Monte. I can learn alot more than the kids on that. There's Monte... You pie-biter, stop.... He has ate up your book, ma'am, but I'll get yu'... "

And then the Virginian was fast asleep. 

XII. QUALITY AND EQUALITY

To the circle at Bennington, a letter from Bear Creek was always awelcome summons to gather and hear of doings very strange to Vermont. And when the tale of the changed babies arrived duly by the post, itcreated a more than usual sensation, and was read to a large number ofpleased and scandalized neighbors. "I hate her to be where such thingscan happen, " said Mrs. Wood. 

"I wish I could have been there, " said her son-in-law, Andrew Bell. 

"She does not mention who played the trick, " said Mrs. Andrew Bell. 

"We shouldn't be any wiser if she did, " said Mrs. Wood. 

"I'd like to meet the perpetrator, " said Andrew. 

"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Wood. "They're all horrible. "

And she wrote at once, begging her daughter to take good care ofherself, and to see as much of Mrs. Balaam as possible. "And of anyother ladies that are near you. For you seem to me to be in a communityof roughs. I wish you would give it all up. Did you expect me to laughabout the babies?"

Mrs. Flynt, when this story was repeated to her (she had not beeninvited in to hear the letter), remarked that she had always felt thatMolly Wood must be a little vulgar, ever since she began to go aboutgiving music lessons like any ordinary German. 

But Mrs. Wood was considerably relieved when the next letter arrived. Itcontained nothing horrible about barbecues or babies. It mentioned thegreat beauty of the weather, and how well and strong the fine air wasmaking the writer feel. And it asked that books might be sent, manybooks of all sorts, novels, poetry, all the good old books and any goodnew ones that could be spared. Cheap editions, of course. 

"Indeed she shall have them!" said Mrs. Wood. "How her mind must bestarving in that dreadful place!" The letter was not a long one, and, besides the books, spoke of little else except the fine weather andthe chances for outdoor exercise that this gave. "You have no idea, "it said, "how delightful it is to ride, especially on a spirited horse, which I can do now quite well. "

"How nice that is!" said Mrs. Wood, putting down the letter. "I hope thehorse is not too spirited. "

"Who does she go riding with?" asked Mrs. Bell. 

"She doesn't say, Sarah. Why?"

"Nothing. She has a queer way of not mentioning things, now and then. "

"Sarah!" exclaimed Mrs. Wood, reproachfully. "Oh, well, mother, youknow just as well as I do that she can be very independent andunconventional. "

"Yes; but not in that way. She wouldn't ride with poor Sam Bannett, andafter all he is a suitable person. "

Nevertheless, in her next letter, Mrs. Wood cautioned her daughter abouttrusting herself with any one of whom Mrs. Balaam did not thoroughlyapprove. The good lady could never grasp that Mrs. Balaam lived a longday's journey from Bear Creek, and that Molly saw her about once everythree months. "We have sent your books, " the mother wrote; "everybodyhas contributed from their store, --Shakespeare, Tennyson, Browning, Longfellow; and a number of novels by Scott, Thackeray, George Eliot, Hawthorne, and lesser writers; some volumes of Emerson; and Jane Austencomplete, because you admire her so particularly. "

This consignment of literature reached Bear Creek about a week beforeChristmas time. 

By New Year's Day, the Virginian had begun his education. 

"Well, I have managed to get through 'em, " he said, as he enteredMolly's cabin in February. And he laid two volumes upon her table. 

"And what do you think of them?" she inquired. 

"I think that I've cert'nly earned a good long ride to-day. "

"Georgie Taylor has sprained his ankle. "

"No, I don't mean that kind of a ride. I've earned a ride with just ustwo alone. I've read every word of both of 'em, yu' know. "

"I'll think about it. Did you like them?"

"No. Not much. If I'd knowed that one was a detective story, I'd havegot yu' to try something else on me. Can you guess the murderer, or isthe author too smart for yu'? That's all they amount to. Well, he wastoo smart for me this time, but that didn't distress me any. That otherbook talks too much. "

Molly was scandalized, and she told him it was a great work. 

"Oh, yes, yes. A fine book. But it will keep up its talkin'. Don't letyou alone. "

"Didn't you feel sorry for poor Maggie Tulliver?"

"Hmp. Yes. Sorry for her, and for Tawmmy, too. But the man did right todrownd 'em both. "

"It wasn't a man. A woman wrote that. "

"A woman did! Well, then, o' course she talks too much. "

"I'll not go riding with you!" shrieked Molly. 

But she did. And he returned to Sunk Creek, not with a detective story, but this time with a Russian novel. 

It was almost April when he brought it back to her--and a heavy sleetstorm lost them their ride. So he spent his time indoors with her, notspeaking a syllable of love. When he came to take his departure, heasked her for some other book by this same Russian. But she had no more. 

"I wish you had, " he said. "I've never saw a book could tell the truthlike that one does. "

"Why, what do you like about it?" she exclaimed. To her it had beendistasteful. 

"Everything, " he answered. "That young come-outer, and his fam'ly thatcan't understand him--for he is broad gauge, yu' see, and they arenarro' gauge. " The Virginian looked at Molly a moment almost shyly. "Doyou know, " he said, and a blush spread over his face, "I pretty nearcried when that young come-outer was dyin', and said about himself, 'I was a giant. ' Life made him broad gauge, yu' see, and then took hischance away. "

Molly liked the Virginian for his blush. It made him very handsome. Butshe thought that it came from his confession about "pretty near crying. "The deeper cause she failed to divine, --that he, like the dying hero inthe novel, felt himself to be a giant whom life had made "broad gauge, "and denied opportunity. Fecund nature begets and squanders thousands ofthese rich seeds in the wilderness of life. 

He took away with him a volume of Shakespeare. "I've saw good plays ofhis, " he remarked. 

Kind Mrs. Taylor in her cabin next door watched him ride off in thesleet, bound for the lonely mountain trail. 

"If that girl don't get ready to take him pretty soon, " she observed toher husband, "I'll give her a piece of my mind. "

Taylor was astonished. "Is he thinking of her?" he inquired. 

"Lord, Mr. Taylor, and why shouldn't he?"

Mr. Taylor scratched his head and returned to his newspaper. 

It was warm--warm and beautiful upon Bear Creek. Snow shone uponthe peaks of the Bow Leg range; lower on their slopes the pines werestirring with a gentle song; and flowers bloomed across the wide plainsat their feet. 

Molly and her Virginian sat at a certain spring where he had oftenridden with her. On this day he was bidding her farewell beforeundertaking the most important trust which Judge Henry had as yet givenhim. For this journey she had provided him with Sir Walter Scott'sKenilworth. Shakespeare he had returned to her. He had boughtShakespeare for himself. "As soon as I got used to readin' it, " he hadtold her, "I knowed for certain that I liked readin' for enjoyment. "

But it was not of books that he had spoken much to-day. He had notspoken at all. He had bade her listen to the meadow-lark, when its songfell upon the silence like beaded drops of music. He had showed herwhere a covey of young willow-grouse were hiding as their horses passed. And then, without warning, as they sat by the spring, he had spokenpotently of his love. 

She did not interrupt him. She waited until he was wholly finished. 

"I am not the sort of wife you want, " she said, with an attempt ofairiness. 

He answered roughly, "I am the judge of that. " And his roughness was apleasure to her, yet it made her afraid of herself. When he was absentfrom her, and she could sit in her cabin and look at Grandmother Stark, and read home letters, then in imagination she found it easy to playthe part which she had arranged to play regarding him--the part of theguide, and superior, and indulgent companion. But when he was by herside, that part became a difficult one. Her woman's fortress was shakenby a force unknown to her before. Sam Bannett did not have it in him tolook as this man could look, when the cold lustre of his eyes grew hotwith internal fire. What color they were baffled her still. "Can itpossibly change?" she wondered. It seemed to her that sometimes when shehad been looking from a rock straight down into clear sea water, thissame color had lurked in its depths. "Is it green, or is it gray?"she asked herself, but did not turn just now to see. She kept her facetoward the landscape. 

"All men are born equal, " he now remarked slowly. 

"Yes, " she quickly answered, with a combative flash. "Well?"

"Maybe that don't include women?" he suggested. 

"I think it does. "

"Do yu' tell the kids so?"

"Of course I teach them what I believe!"

He pondered. "I used to have to learn about the Declaration ofIndependence. I hated books and truck when I was a kid. "

"But you don't any more. "

"No. I cert'nly don't. But I used to get kep' in at recess for bein' sodumb. I was most always at the tail end of the class. My brother, he'dbe head sometimes. "

"Little George Taylor is my prize scholar, " said Molly. 

"Knows his tasks, does he?"

"Always. And Henry Dow comes next. "

"Who's last?"

"Poor Bob Carmody. I spend more time on him than on all the rest puttogether. "

"My!" said the Virginian. "Ain't that strange!"

She looked at him, puzzled by his tone. "It's not strange when you knowBob, " she said. 

"It's very strange, " drawled the Virginian. "Knowin' Bob don't help itany. "

"I don't think that I understand you, " said Molly, sticky. 

"Well, it is mighty confusin'. George Taylor, he's your best scholar, and poor Bob, he's your worst, and there's a lot in the middle--and youtell me we're all born equal!"

Molly could only sit giggling in this trap he had so ingeniously laidfor her. 

"I'll tell you what, " pursued the cow-puncher, with slow and growingintensity, "equality is a great big bluff. It's easy called. "

"I didn't mean--" began Molly. 

"Wait, and let me say what I mean. " He had made an imperious gesturewith his hand. "I know a man that mostly wins at cyards. I know a manthat mostly loses. He says it is his luck. All right. Call it his luck. I know a man that works hard and he's gettin' rich, and I know anotherthat works hard and is gettin' poor. He says it is his luck. All right. Call it his luck. I look around and I see folks movin' up or movin'down, winners or losers everywhere. All luck, of course. But since folkscan be born that different in their luck, where's your equality? No, seh! call your failure luck, or call it laziness, wander around thewords, prospect all yu' mind to, and yu'll come out the same old trailof inequality. " He paused a moment and looked at her. "Some holds fouraces, " he went on, "and some holds nothin', and some poor fello' getsthe aces and no show to play 'em; but a man has got to prove himself myequal before I'll believe him. "

Molly sat gazing at him, silent. 

"I know what yu' meant, " he told her now, "by sayin' you're not the wifeI'd want. But I am the kind that moves up. I am goin' to be your bestscholar. " He turned toward her, and that fortress within her began toshake. 

"Don't, " she murmured. "Don't, please. "

"Don't what?"

"Why--spoil this. "

"Spoil it?"

"These rides--I don't love you--I can't--but these rides are--"

"What are they?"

"My greatest pleasure. There! And, please, I want them to go on so. "

"Go on so! I don't reckon yu' know what you're sayin'. Yu' might as wellask fruit to stay green. If the way we are now can keep bein' enoughfor you, it can't for me. A pleasure to you, is it? Well, to me it is--Idon't know what to call it. I come to yu' and I hate it, and I comeagain and I hate it, and I ache and grieve all over when I go. No!You will have to think of some other way than just invitin' me to keepgreen. "

"If I am to see you--" began the girl. 

"You're not to see me. Not like this. I can stay away easier than what Iam doin'. "

"Will you do me a favor, a great one?" said she, now. 

"Make it as impossible as you please!" he cried. He thought it was to besome action. 

"Go on coming. But don't talk to me about--don't talk in that way--ifyou can help it. "

He laughed out, not permitting himself to swear. 

"But, " she continued, "if you can't help talking that way--sometimes--Ipromise I will listen. That is the only promise I make. "

"That is a bargain, " he said. 

Then he helped her mount her horse, restraining himself like a Spartan, and they rode home to her cabin. 

"You have made it pretty near impossible, " he said, as he took hisleave. "But you've been square to-day, and I'll show you I can be squarewhen I come back. I'll not do more than ask you if your mind's the same. And now I'll not see you for quite a while. I am going a long way. ButI'll be very busy. And bein' busy always keeps me from grievin' too muchabout you. "

Strange is woman! She would rather have heard some other last remarkthan this. 

"Oh, very well!" she said. "I'll not miss you either. "

He smiled at her. "I doubt if yu' can help missin' me, " he remarked. Andhe was gone at once, galloping on his Monte horse. 

Which of the two won a victory this day?

XIII. THE GAME AND THE NATION--ACT FIRST

There can be no doubt of this: All America is divided into twoclasses, --the quality and the equality. 

The latter will always recognize the former when mistaken for it. Bothwill be with us until our women bear nothing but hangs. 

It was through the Declaration of Independence that we Americansacknowledged the ETERNAL INEQUALITY of man. For by it we abolished acut-and-dried aristocracy. We had seen little mere artificially held upin high places, and great men artificially held down in low places, andour own justice-loving hearts abhorred this violence to human nature. Therefore, we decreed that every man should thenceforth have equalliberty to find his own level. By this very decree we acknowledged andgave freedom to true aristocracy, saying, "Let the best man win, whoeverhe is. " Let the best man win! That is America's word. That is truedemocracy. And true democracy and true aristocracy are one and the samething. If anybody cannot see this, so much the worse for his eyesight. 

The above reflections occurred to me before reaching Billings, Montana, some three weeks after I had unexpectedly met the Virginian at Omaha, Nebraska. I had not known of that trust given to him by Judge Henry, which was taking him East. I was looking to ride with him before longamong the clean hills of Sunk Creek. I supposed he was there. But I cameupon him one morning in Colonel Cyrus Jones's eating palace. 

Did you know the palace? It stood in Omaha, near the trains, and it wasten years old (which is middle-aged in Omaha) when I first saw it. Itwas a shell of wood, painted with golden emblems, --the steamboat, theeagle, the Yosemite, --and a live bear ate gratuities at its entrance. Weather permitting, it opened upon the world as a stage upon theaudience. You sat in Omaha's whole sight and dined, while Omaha's dustcame and settled upon the refreshments. It is gone the way of the Indianand the buffalo, for the West is growing old. You should have seen thepalace and sat there. In front of you passed rainbows of men, --Chinese, Indian chiefs, Africans, General Miles, younger sons, Austrian nobility, wide females in pink. Our continent drained prismatically through Omahaonce. 

So I was passing that way also, walking for the sake of ventilation froma sleeping-car toward a bath, when the language of Colonel Cyrus Jonescame out to me. The actual colonel I had never seen before. He stoodat the rear of his palace in gray flowery mustaches and a Confederateuniform, telling the wishes of his guests to the cook through a hole. You always bought meal tickets at once, else you became unwelcome. Guests here had foibles at times, and a rapid exit was too easy. Therefore I bought a ticket. It was spring and summer since I had heardanything like the colonel. The Missouri had not yet flowed into New Yorkdialect freely, and his vocabulary met me like the breeze of the plains. So I went in to be fanned by it, and there sat the Virginian at a table, alone. 

His greeting was up to the code of indifference proper on the plains;but he presently remarked, "I'm right glad to see somebody, " which was agood deal to say. "Them that comes hyeh, " he observed next, "don't eat. They feed. " And he considered the guests with a sombre attention. "D' yu' reckon they find joyful digestion in this swallo'-an'-get-outtrough?"

"What are you doing here, then?" said I. 

"Oh, pshaw! When yu' can't have what you choose, yu' just choose whatyou have. " And he took the bill-of-fare. I began to know that he hadsomething on his mind, so I did not trouble him further. 

Meanwhile he sat studying the bill-of-fare. 

"Ever heard o' them?" he inquired, shoving me the spotted document. 

Most improbable dishes were there, --salmis, canapes, supremes, --allperfectly spelt and absolutely transparent. It was the old trick ofcopying some metropolitan menu to catch travellers of the third and lastdimension of innocence; and whenever this is done the food is of thethird and last dimension of awfulness, which the cow-puncher knew aswell as anybody. 

"So they keep that up here still, " I said. 

"But what about them?" he repeated. His finger was at a special item, FROGS' LEGS A LA DELMONICO. "Are they true anywheres?" he asked And Itold him, certainly. I also explained to him about Delmonico of New Yorkand about Augustin of Philadelphia. 

"There's not a little bit o' use in lyin' to me this mawnin', " he said, with his engaging smile. "I ain't goin' to awdeh anything's laigs. "

"Well, I'll see how he gets out of it, " I said, remembering the oddTexas legend. (The traveller read the bill-of-fare, you know, and calledfor a vol-au-vent. And the proprietor looked at the traveller, andrunning a pistol into his ear, observed, "You'll take hash. ") I wasthinking of this and wondering what would happen to me. So I took thestep. 

"Wants frogs' legs, does he?" shouted Colonel Cyrus Jones. He fixedhis eye upon me, and it narrowed to a slit. "Too many brain workersbreakfasting before yu' came in, professor, " said he. "Missionary atethe last leg off me just now. Brown the wheat!" he commanded, throughthe hole to the cook, for some one had ordered hot cakes. 

"I'll have fried aiggs, " said the Virginian. "Cooked both sides. "

"White wings!" sang the colonel through the hole. "Let 'em fly up anddown. "

"Coffee an' no milk, " said the Virginian. 

"Draw one in the dark!" the colonel roared. 

"And beefsteak, rare. "

"One slaughter in the pan, and let the blood drip!"

"I should like a glass of water, please, " said I. The colonel threw me alook of pity. 

"One Missouri and ice for the professor!" he said. 

"That fello's a right live man, " commented the Virginian. But he seemedthoughtful. Presently he inquired, "Yu' say he was a foreigner, an'learned fancy cookin' to New Yawk?"

That was this cow-puncher's way. Scarcely ever would he let drop a thingnew to him until he had got from you your whole information about it. So I told him the history of Lorenzo Delmonico and his pioneer work, asmuch as I knew, and the Southerner listened intently. 

"Mighty inter-estin', " he said--"mighty. He could just take littleold o'rn'ry frawgs, and dandy 'em up to suit the bloods. Mightyinter-estin'. I expaict, though, his cookin' would give an outraigedstomach to a plain-raised man. "

"If you want to follow it up, " said I, by way of a sudden experiment, "Miss Molly Wood might have some book about French dishes. "

But the Virginian did not turn a hair. "I reckon she wouldn't, " heanswered. "She was raised in Vermont. They don't bother overly abouttheir eatin' up in Vermont. Hyeh's what Miss Wood recommended the las'time I was seein' her, " the cow-puncher added, bringing Kenilworth fromhis pocket. "Right fine story. That Queen Elizabeth must have cert'nlybeen a competent woman. "

"She was, " said I. But talk came to an end here. A dusty crew, mostevidently from the plains, now entered and drifted to a table; and eachman of them gave the Virginian about a quarter of a slouchy nod. Hisgreeting to them was very serene. Only, Kenilworth went back into hispocket, and he breakfasted in silence. Among those who had greeted him Inow recognized a face. 

"Why, that's the man you played cards with at Medicine Bow!" I said. 

"Yes. Trampas. He's got a job at the ranch now. " The Virginian said nomore, but went on with his breakfast. 

His appearance was changed. Aged I would scarcely say, for thiswould seem as if he did not look young. But I think that the boy wasaltogether gone from his face--the boy whose freak with Steve had turnedMedicine Bow upside down, whose other freak with the babies had outragedBear Creek, the boy who had loved to jingle his spurs. But manhood hadonly trained, not broken, his youth. It was all there, only obedient tothe rein and curb. 

Presently we went together to the railway yard. 

"The Judge is doing a right smart o' business this year, " he began, verycasually indeed, so that I knew this was important. Besides bells andcoal smoke, the smell and crowded sounds of cattle rose in the airaround us. "Hyeh's our first gather o' beeves on the ranch, " continuedthe Virginian. "The whole lot's shipped through to Chicago in twosections over the Burlington. The Judge is fighting the Elkhorn road. "We passed slowly along the two trains, --twenty cars, each car packedwith huddled, round-eyed, gazing steers. He examined to see if anyanimals were down. "They ain't ate or drank anything to speak of, " hesaid, while the terrified brutes stared at us through their slats. "Notsince they struck the railroad they've not drank. Yu' might supposethey know somehow what they're travellin' to Chicago for. " And casually, always casually, he told me the rest. Judge Henry could not spare hisforeman away from the second gather of beeves. Therefore these twoten-car trains with their double crew of cow-boys had been given to theVirginian's charge. After Chicago, he was to return by St. Paul overthe Northern Pacific; for the Judge had wished him to see certain of theroad's directors and explain to them persuasively how good a thing itwould be for them to allow especially cheap rates to the Sunk Creekoutfit henceforth. This was all the Virginian told me; and it containedthe whole matter, to be sure. 

"So you're acting foreman, " said I. 

"Why, somebody has to have the say, I reckon. "

"And of course you hated the promotion?"

"I don't know about promotion, " he replied. "The boys have been usedto seein' me one of themselves. Why don't you come along with us far asPlattsmouth?" Thus he shifted the subject from himself, and called to mynotice the locomotives backing up to his cars, and reminded me that fromPlattsmouth I had the choice of two trains returning. But he could nothide or belittle this confidence of his employer in him. It was the careof several thousand perishable dollars and the control of men. It was acompliment. There were more steers than men to be responsible for; butnone of the steers had been suddenly picked from the herd and set abovehis fellows. Moreover, Chicago finished up the steers; but the new-madedeputy foreman had then to lead his six highly unoccupied brethren awayfrom towns, and back in peace to the ranch, or disappoint the Judge, whoneeded their services. These things sometimes go wrong in a land wherethey say you are all born equal; and that quarter of a nod in ColonelCyrus Jones's eating palace held more equality than any whole nod youcould see. But the Virginian did not see it, there being a time for allthings. 

We trundled down the flopping, heavy-eddied Missouri to Plattsmouth, and there they backed us on to a siding, the Christian Endeavor beingexpected to pass that way. And while the equality absorbed themselves ina deep but harmless game of poker by the side of the railway line, the Virginian and I sat on the top of a car, contemplating the sandyshallows of the Platte. 

"I should think you'd take a hand, " said I. 

"Poker? With them kittens?" One flash of the inner man lightened in hiseyes and died away, and he finished with his gentle drawl, "When I play, I want it to be interestin'. " He took out Sir Walter's Kenilworth oncemore, and turned the volume over and over slowly, without opening it. You cannot tell if in spirit he wandered on Bear Creek with the girlwhose book it was. The spirit will go one road, and the thought another, and the body its own way sometimes. "Queen Elizabeth would have played amighty pow'ful game, " was his next remark. 

"Poker?" said I. 

"Yes, seh. Do you expaict Europe has got any queen equal to her atpresent?"

I doubted it. 

"Victoria'd get pretty nigh slain sliding chips out agaynst Elizabeth. Only mos' prob'ly Victoria she'd insist on a half-cent limit. You haveread this hyeh Kenilworth? Well, deal Elizabeth ace high, an' she couldscare Robert Dudley with a full house plumb out o' the bettin'. "

I said that I believed she unquestionably could. 

"And, " said the Virginian, "if Essex's play got next her too near, Ireckon she'd have stacked the cyards. Say, d' yu' remember Shakespeare'sfat man?"

"Falstaff? Oh, yes, indeed. "

"Ain't that grand? Why, he makes men talk the way they do in life. I reckon he couldn't get printed to-day. It's a right down shameShakespeare couldn't know about poker. He'd have had Falstaff playingall day at that Tearsheet outfit. And the Prince would have beat him. "

"The Prince had the brains, " said I. 

"Brains?"

"Well, didn't he?"

"I neveh thought to notice. Like as not he did. "

"And Falstaff didn't, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, seh! Falstaff could have played whist. "

"I suppose you know what you're talking about; I don't, " said I, for hewas drawling again. 

The cow-puncher's eye rested a moment amiably upon me. "You can playwhist with your brains, " he mused, --"brains and cyards. Now cyards areonly one o' the manifestations of poker in this hyeh world. One o' theshapes yu fool with it in when the day's work is oveh. If a man is builtlike that Prince boy was built (and it's away down deep beyond brains), he'll play winnin' poker with whatever hand he's holdin' when thetrouble begins. Maybe it will be a mean, triflin' army, or an emptysix-shooter, or a lame hawss, or maybe just nothin' but his naturalcountenance. 'Most any old thing will do for a fello' like that Princeboy to play poker with. "

"Then I'd be grateful for your definition of poker, " said I. 

Again the Virginian looked me over amiably. "You put up a mighty prettygame o' whist yourself, " he remarked. "Don't that give you the contentedspirit?" And before I had any reply to this, the Christian Endeavorbegan to come over the bridge. Three instalments crossed the Missourifrom Pacific Junction, bound for Pike's Peak, every car swathed inbright bunting, and at each window a Christian with a handkerchief, joyously shrieking. Then the cattle trains got the open signal, and Ijumped off. "Tell the Judge the steers was all right this far, " said theVirginian. 

That was the last of the deputy foreman for a while. 

XIV. BETWEEN THE ACTS

My road to Sunk Creek lay in no straight line. By rail I divergednorthwest to Fort Meade, and thence, after some stay with the kindmilitary people, I made my way on a horse. Up here in the Black Hills itsluiced rain most intolerably. The horse and I enjoyed the country andourselves but little; and when finally I changed from the saddle into astagecoach, I caught a thankful expression upon the animal's face, andreturned the same. 

"Six legs inside this jerky to-night?" said somebody, as I climbedthe wheel. "Well, we'll give thanks for not havin' eight, " he addedcheerfully. "Clamp your mind on to that, Shorty. " And he slapped theshoulder of his neighbor. Naturally I took these two for old companions. But we were all total strangers. They told me of the new gold excitementat Rawhide, and supposed it would bring up the Northern Pacific; andwhen I explained the millions owed to this road's German bondholders, they were of opinion that a German would strike it richer at Rawhide. Wespoke of all sorts of things, and in our silence I gloated on the autumnholiday promised me by Judge Henry. His last letter had said that anoutfit would be starting for his ranch from Billings on the seventh, andhe would have a horse for me. This was the fifth. So we six legs in thejerky travelled harmoniously on over the rain-gutted road, getting nodeeper knowledge of each other than what our outsides might imply. 

Not that we concealed anything. The man who had slapped Shortyintroduced himself early. "Scipio le Moyne, from Gallipolice, Ohio, " hesaid. "The eldest of us always gets called Scipio. It's French. Butus folks have been white for a hundred years. " He was limber andlight-muscled, and fell skilfully about, evading bruises when thejerky reeled or rose on end. He had a strange, long, jocular nose, verywary-looking, and a bleached blue eye. Cattle was his business, as arule, but of late he had been "looking around some, " and Rawhide seemedmuch on his brain. Shorty struck me as "looking around" also. He wasquite short, indeed, and the jerky hurt him almost every time. He waslight-haired and mild. Think of a yellow dog that is lost, and fancieseach newcomer in sight is going to turn out his master, and you willhave Shorty. 

It was the Northern Pacific that surprised us into intimacy. We werenearing Medora. We had made a last arrangement of our legs. I laystretched in silence, placid in the knowledge it was soon to end. SoI drowsed. I felt something sudden, and, waking, saw Scipio passingthrough the air. As Shorty next shot from the jerky, I beheld smoke andthe locomotive. The Northern Pacific had changed its schedule. A valiseis a poor companion for catching a train with. There was rutted sandand lumpy, knee-high grease wood in our short cut. A piece of stray wiresprang from some hole and hung caracoling about my ankle. Tin cans spunfrom my stride. But we made a conspicuous race. Two of us waved hats, and there was no moment that some one of us was not screeching. It meanttwenty-four hours to us. 

Perhaps we failed to catch the train's attention, though the theoryseems monstrous. As it moved off in our faces, smooth and easy andinsulting, Scipio dropped instantly to a walk, and we two othersoutstripped him and came desperately to the empty track. There went thetrain. Even still its puffs were the separated puffs of starting, thatbitten-off, snorty kind, and sweat and our true natures broke freelyforth. 

I kicked my valise, and then sat on it, dumb. 

Shorty yielded himself up aloud. All his humble secrets came out ofhim. He walked aimlessly round, lamenting. He had lost his job, and hementioned the ranch. He had played cards, and he mentioned the man. Hehad sold his horse and saddle to catch a friend on this train, and hementioned what the friend had been going to do for him. He told a stringof griefs and names to the air, as if the air knew. 

Meanwhile Scipio arrived with extreme leisure at the rails. He stuckhis hands into his pockets and his head out at the very small train. His bleached blue eyes shut to slits as he watched the rear car in itssmoke-blur ooze away westward among the mounded bluffs. "Lucky it's outof range, " I thought. But now Scipio spoke to it. 

"Why, you seem to think you've left me behind, " he began easily, infawning tones. "You're too much of a kid to have such thoughts. Agesome. " His next remark grew less wheedling. "I wouldn't be a bit proudto meet yu'. Why, if I was seen travellin' with yu', I'd have to explainit to my friends! Think you've got me left, do yu'? Just because yu'ride through this country on a rail, do yu' claim yu' can find your wayaround? I could take yu' out ten yards in the brush and lose yu' inten seconds, you spangle-roofed hobo! Leave ME behind? you recentblanket-mortgage yearlin'! You plush-lined, nickel-plated, whistlin'wash room, d' yu' figure I can't go east just as soon as west? Or I'llstay right here if it suits me, yu' dude-inhabited hot-box! Why, yu'coon-bossed face-towel--" But from here he rose in flights of noveltythat appalled and held me spellbound, and which are not for me to sayto you. Then he came down easily again, and finished with expressions ofsympathy for it because it could never have known a mother. 

"Do you expaict it could show a male parent offhand?" inquired a slowvoice behind us. I jumped round, and there was the Virginian. 

"Male parent!" scoffed the prompt Scipio. "Ain't you heard about THEMyet?"

"Them? Was there two?"

"Two? The blamed thing was sired by a whole doggone Dutch syndicate. "

"Why, the piebald son of a gun!" responded the Virginian, sweetly. "Igot them steers through all right, " he added to me. "Sorry to see yu'get so out o' breath afteh the train. Is your valise sufferin' any?"

"Who's he?" inquired Scipio, curiously, turning to me. 

The Southerner sat with a newspaper on the rear platform of a caboose. The caboose stood hitched behind a mile or so of freight train, andthe train was headed west. So here was the deputy foreman, his steersdelivered in Chicago, his men (I could hear them) safe in the caboose, his paper in his lap, and his legs dangling at ease over the railing. Hewore the look of a man for whom things are going smooth. And for me theway to Billings was smooth now, also. 

"Who's he?" Scipio repeated. 

But from inside the caboose loud laughter and noise broke on us. Someone was reciting "And it's my night to howl. "

"We'll all howl when we get to Rawhide, " said some other one; and theyhowled now. 

"These hyeh steam cyars, " said the Virginian to Scipio, "make a man'slanguage mighty nigh as speedy as his travel. " Of Shorty he took nonotice whatever--no more than of the manifestations in the caboose. 

"So yu' heard me speakin' to the express, " said Scipio. "Well, I guess, sometimes I--See here, " he exclaimed, for the Virginian was gravelyconsidering him, "I may have talked some, but I walked a whole lot. Youdidn't catch ME squandering no speed. Soon as--"

"I noticed, " said the Virginian, "thinkin' came quicker to yu' thanrunnin'. "

I was glad I was not Shorty, to have my measure taken merely by myway of missing a train. And of course I was sorry that I had kicked myvalise. 

"Oh, I could tell yu'd been enjoyin' us!" said Scipio. "Observin'somebody else's scrape always kind o' rests me too. Maybe you're aphilosopher, but maybe there's a pair of us drawd in this deal. "

Approval now grew plain upon the face of the Virginian. "By your laigs, "said he, "you are used to the saddle. "

"I'd be called used to it, I expect. "

"By your hands, " said the Southerner, again, "you ain't roped manysteers lately. Been cookin' or something?"

"Say, " retorted Scipio, "tell my future some now. Draw a conclusion frommy mouth. "

"I'm right distressed, " unsevered the gentle Southerner, "we've not adrop in the outfit. "

"Oh, drink with me uptown!" cried Scipio "I'm pleased to death withyu'. "

The Virginian glanced where the saloons stood just behind the station, and shook his head. 

"Why, it ain't a bit far to whiskey from here!" urged the other, plaintively. "Step down, now. Scipio le Moyne's my name. Yes, you'relookin' for my brass ear-rings. But there ain't no ear-rings on me. I'vebeen white for a hundred years. Step down. I've a forty-dollar thirst. "

"You're certainly white, " began the Virginian. "But--"

Here the caboose resumed:

 "I'm wild, and woolly, and full of peas; I'm hard to curry above the knees; I'm a she-wolf from Bitter Creek, and It's my night to ho-o-wl--"

And as they howled and stamped, the wheels of the caboose began to turngently and to murmur. 

The Virginian rose suddenly. "Will yu' save that thirst and take aforty-dollar job?"

"Missin' trains, profanity, or what?" said Scipio. 

"I'll tell yu' soon as I'm sure. "

At this Scipio looked hard at the Virginian. "Why, you're talkin'business!" said he, and leaped on the caboose, where I was already. "IWAS thinkin' of Rawhide, " he added, "but I ain't any more. "

"Well, good luck!" said Shorty, on the track behind us. 

"Oh, say!" said Scipio, "he wanted to go on that train, just like me. "

"Get on, " called the Virginian. "But as to getting a job, he ain't justlike you. " So Shorty came, like a lost dog when you whistle to him. 

Our wheels clucked over the main-line switch. A train-hand threw it shutafter us, jumped aboard, and returned forward over the roofs. Inside thecaboose they had reached the third howling of the she-wolf. 

"Friends of yourn?" said Scipio. 

"My outfit, " drawled the Virginian. 

"Do yu' always travel outside?" inquired Scipio. 

"It's lonesome in there, " returned the deputy foreman. And here one ofthem came out, slamming the door. 

"Hell!" he said, at sight of the distant town. Then, truculently, to theVirginian, "I told you I was going to get a bottle here. "

"Have your bottle, then, " said the deputy foreman, and kicked him offinto Dakota. (It was not North Dakota yet; they had not divided it. )The Virginian had aimed his pistol at about the same time with hisboot. Therefore the man sat in Dakota quietly, watching us go away intoMontana, and offering no objections. Just before he became too small tomake out, we saw him rise and remove himself back toward the saloons. 

XV. THE GAME AND THE NATION--ACT SECOND

"That is the only step I have had to take this whole trip, " said theVirginian. He holstered his pistol with a jerk. "I have been fearinghe would force it on me. " And he looked at empty, receding Dakota withdisgust. "So nyeh back home!" he muttered. 

"Known your friend long?" whispered Scipio to me. 

"Fairly, " I answered. 

Scipio's bleached eyes brightened with admiration as he considered theSoutherner's back. "Well, " he stated judicially, "start awful early whenyu' go to fool with him, or he'll make you feel unpunctual. "

"I expaict I've had them almost all of three thousand miles, " said theVirginian, tilting his head toward the noise in the caboose. "And I'vestrove to deliver them back as I received them. The whole lot. And Iwould have. But he has spoiled my hopes. " The deputy foreman lookedagain at Dakota. "It's a disappointment, " he added. "You may know what Imean. "

I had known a little, but not to the very deep, of the man's pride andpurpose in this trust. Scipio gave him sympathy. "There must be quite abalance of 'em left with yu' yet, " said Scipio, cheeringly. 

"I had the boys plumb contented, " pursued the deputy foreman, hurtinto open talk of himself. "Away along as far as Saynt Paul I had themreconciled to my authority. Then this news about gold had to strike us. "

"And they're a-dreamin' nuggets and Parisian bowleyvards, " suggestedScipio. 

The Virginian smiled gratefully at him. 

"Fortune is shinin' bright and blindin' to their delicate young eyes, "he said, regaining his usual self. 

We all listened a moment to the rejoicings within. 

"Energetic, ain't they?" said the Southerner. "But none of 'em waswhelped savage enough to sing himself bloodthirsty. And though they'restrainin' mighty earnest not to be tame, they're goin' back to SunkCreek with me accordin' to the Judge's awders. Never a calf of them willdesert to Rawhide, for all their dangerousness; nor I ain't goin' tohave any fuss over it. Only one is left now that don't sing. Maybe Iwill have to make some arrangements about him. The man I have partedwith, " he said, with another glance at Dakota, "was our cook, and I willask yu' to replace him, Colonel. "

Scipio gaped wide. "Colonel! Say!" He stared at the Virginian. "Did Imeet yu' at the palace?"

"Not exackly meet, " replied the Southerner. "I was present one mawnin'las' month when this gentleman awdehed frawgs' laigs. "

"Sakes and saints, but that was a mean position!" burst out Scipio. "Ihad to tell all comers anything all day. Stand up and jump language hotoff my brain at 'em. And the pay don't near compensate for the drain onthe system. I don't care how good a man is, you let him keep a-tappin'his presence of mind right along, without takin' a lay-off, and you'llhave him sick. Yes, sir. You'll hit his nerves. So I told them theycould hire some fresh man, for I was goin' back to punch cattle or fightIndians, or take a rest somehow, for I didn't propose to get jaded, and me only twenty-five years old. There ain't no regular ColonelCyrus Jones any more, yu' know. He met a Cheyenne telegraph pole inseventy-four, and was buried. But his palace was doin' big business, andhe had been a kind of attraction, and so they always keep a live bearoutside, and some poor fello', fixed up like the Colonel used to be, inside. And it's a turruble mean position. Course I'll cook for yu'. Yu've a dandy memory for faces!"

"I wasn't right convinced till I kicked him off and you gave that shutto your eyes again, " said the Virginian. 

Once more the door opened. A man with slim black eyebrows, slim blackmustache, and a black shirt tied with a white handkerchief was lookingsteadily from one to the other of us. 

"Good day!" he remarked generally and without enthusiasm; and to theVirginian, "Where's Schoffner?"

"I expaict he'll have got his bottle by now, Trampas. "

Trampas looked from one to the other of us again. "Didn't he say he wascoming back?"

"He reminded me he was going for a bottle, and afteh that he didn't waitto say a thing. "

Trampas looked at the platform and the railing and the steps. "He toldme he was coming back, " he insisted. 

"I don't reckon he has come, not without he clumb up ahaid somewhere. An' I mus' say, when he got off he didn't look like a man does when hehas the intention o' returnin'. "

At this Scipio coughed, and pared his nails attentively. We had alreadybeen avoiding each other's eye. Shorty did not count. Since he gotaboard, his meek seat had been the bottom step. 

The thoughts of Trampas seemed to be in difficulty. "How long's thistrain been started?" he demanded. 

"This hyeh train?" The Virginian consulted his watch. "Why, it's beenfanning it a right smart little while, " said he, laying no stress uponhis indolent syllables. 

"Huh!" went Trampas. He gave the rest of us a final unlovely scrutiny. "It seems to have become a passenger train, " he said. And he returnedabruptly inside the caboose. 

"Is he the member who don't sing?" asked Scipio. 

"That's the specimen, " replied the Southerner. 

"He don't seem musical in the face, " said Scipio. 

"Pshaw!" returned the Virginian. "Why, you surely ain't the man to mindugly mugs when they're hollow!"

The noise inside had dropped quickly to stillness. You could scarcelycatch the sound of talk. Our caboose was clicking comfortably westward, rail after rail, mile upon mile, while night was beginning to rise fromearth into the clouded sky. 

"I wonder if they have sent a search party forward to hunt Schoffner?"said the Virginian. "I think I'll maybe join their meeting. " He openedthe door upon them. "Kind o' dark hyeh, ain't it?" said he. And lightingthe lantern, he shut us out. 

"What do yu' think?" said Scipio to me. "Will he take them to SunkCreek?"

"He evidently thinks he will, " said I. "He says he will, and he has thecourage of his convictions. "

"That ain't near enough courage to have!" Scipio exclaimed. "There's times in life when a man has got to have courage WITHOUTconvictions--WITHOUT them--or he is no good. Now your friend is thatdeep constitooted that you don't know and I don't know what he'sthinkin' about all this. "

"If there's to be any gun-play, " put in the excellent Shorty, "I'llstand in with him. "

"Ah, go to bed with your gun-play!" retorted Scipio, entirelygood-humored. "Is the Judge paying for a carload of dead punchers togather his beef for him? And this ain't a proposition worth a man'sgettin' hurt for himself, anyway. "

"That's so, " Shorty assented. 

"No, " speculated Scipio, as the night drew deeper round us and thecaboose click-clucked and click-clucked over the rail joints; "he'swaitin' for somebody else to open this pot. I'll bet he don't know butone thing now, and that's that nobody else shall know he don't knowanything. "

Scipio had delivered himself. He lighted a cigarette, and no more wisdomcame from him. The night was established. The rolling bad-lands sankaway in it. A train-hand had arrived over the roof, and hanging the redlights out behind, left us again without remark or symptom of curiosity. The train-hands seemed interested in their own society and lived intheir own caboose. A chill wind with wet in it came blowing from theinvisible draws, and brought the feel of the distant mountains. 

"That's Montana!" said Scipio, snuffing. "I am glad to have it inside mylungs again. "

"Ain't yu' getting cool out there?" said the Virginian's voice. "Plentyroom inside. "

Perhaps he had expected us to follow him; or perhaps he had meant usto delay long enough not to seem like a reenforcement. "These gentlemenmissed the express at Medora, " he observed to his men, simply. 

What they took us for upon our entrance I cannot say, or what theybelieved. The atmosphere of the caboose was charged with voicelesscurrents of thought. By way of a friendly beginning to the three hundredmiles of caboose we were now to share so intimately, I recalled myselfto them. I trusted no more of the Christian Endeavor had delayed them. "I am so lucky to have caught you again, " I finished. "I was afraid mylast chance of reaching the Judge's had gone. "

Thus I said a number of things designed to be agreeable, but they met mysmall talk with the smallest talk you can have. "Yes, " for instance, and"Pretty well, I guess, " and grave strikings of matches and thoughtfullooks at the floor. I suppose we had made twenty miles to theimperturbable clicking of the caboose when one at length asked hisneighbor had he ever seen New York. 

"No, " said the other. "Flooded with dudes, ain't it?"

"Swimmin', " said the first. 

"Leakin', too, " said a third. 

"Well, my gracious!" said a fourth, and beat his knee in privatedelight. None of them ever looked at me. For some reason I feltexceedingly ill at ease. 

"Good clothes in New York, " said the third. 

"Rich food, " said the first. 

"Fresh eggs, too, " said the third. 

"Well, my gracious!" said the fourth, beating his knee. 

"Why, yes, " observed the Virginian, unexpectedly; "they tell me thataiggs there ain't liable to be so rotten as yu'll strike 'em in thiscountry. "

None of them had a reply for this, and New York was abandoned. For somereason I felt much better. 

It was a new line they adopted next, led off by Trampas. 

"Going to the excitement?" he inquired, selecting Shorty. 

"Excitement?" said Shorty, looking up. 

"Going to Rawhide?" Trampas repeated. And all watched Shorty. 

"Why, I'm all adrift missin' that express, " said Shorty. 

"Maybe I can give you employment, " suggested the Virginian. "I am takingan outfit across the basin. "

"You'll find most folks going to Rawhide, if you re looking forcompany, " pursued Trampas, fishing for a recruit. 

"How about Rawhide, anyway?" said Scipio, skillfully deflecting thismissionary work. "Are they taking much mineral out? Have yu' seen any ofthe rock?"

"Rock?" broke in the enthusiast who had beaten his knee. "There!" And hebrought some from his pocket. 

"You're always showing your rock, " said Trampas, sulkily; for Scipio nowheld the conversation, and Shorty returned safely to his dozing. 

"H'm!" went Scipio at the rock. He turned it back and forth in his hand, looking it over; he chucked and caught it slightingly in the air, andhanded it back. "Porphyry, I see. " That was his only word about it. Hesaid it cheerily. He left no room for discussion. You could not damna thing worse. "Ever been in Santa Rita?" pursued Scipio, while theenthusiast slowly pushed his rock back into his pocket. "That's down inNew Mexico. Ever been to Globe, Arizona?" And Scipio talked away aboutthe mines he had known. There was no getting at Shorty any more thatevening. Trampas was foiled of his fish, or of learning how the fish'sheart lay. And by morning Shorty had been carefully instructed to changehis mind about once an hour. This is apt to discourage all but verysuperior missionaries. And I too escaped for the rest of this night. AtGlendive we had a dim supper, and I bought some blankets; and after thatit was late, and sleep occupied the attention of us all. 

We lay along the shelves of the caboose, a peaceful sight I shouldthink, in that smoothly trundling cradle. I slept almost immediately, sotired that not even our stops or anything else waked me, save once, whenthe air I was breathing grew suddenly pure, and I roused. Sitting inthe door was the lonely figure of the Virginian. He leaned in silentcontemplation of the occasional moon, and beneath it the Yellowstone'sswift ripples. On the caboose shelves the others slept sound and still, each stretched or coiled as he had first put himself. They were notuntrustworthy to look at, it seemed to me--except Trampas. You wouldhave said the rest of that young humanity was average rough male blood, merely needing to be told the proper things at the right time; and onebig bunchy stocking of the enthusiast stuck out of his blanket, solemnand innocent, and I laughed at it. There was a light sound by the door, and I found the Virginian's eye on me. Finding who it was, he noddedand motioned with his hand to go to sleep. And this I did with him inmy sight, still leaning in the open door, through which came theinterrupted moon and the swimming reaches of the Yellowstone. 

XVI. THE GAME AND THE NATION--LAST ACT

It has happened to you, has it not, to wake in the morning and wonderfor a while where on earth you are? Thus I came half to life in thecaboose, hearing voices, but not the actual words at first. 

But presently, "Hathaway!" said some one more clearly. "Portland 1291!"

This made no special stir in my intelligence, and I drowsed off againto the pleasant rhythm of the wheels. The little shock of stopping nextbrought me to, somewhat, with the voices still round me; and when wewere again in motion, I heard: "Rosebud! Portland 1279!" These figuresjarred me awake, and I said, "It was 1291 before, " and sat up in myblankets. 

The greeting they vouchsafed and the sight of them clusteringexpressionless in the caboose brought last evening's uncomfortablememory back to me. Our next stop revealed how things were going to-day. 

"Forsythe, " one of them read on the station. "Portland 1266. "

They were counting the lessening distance westward. This was theundercurrent of war. It broke on me as I procured fresh water atForsythe and made some toilet in their stolid presence. We were drawingnearer the Rawhide station--the point, I mean, where you left therailway for the new mines. Now Rawhide station lay this side ofBillings. The broad path of desertion would open ready for their feetwhen the narrow path to duty and Sunk Creek was still some fifty milesmore to wait. Here was Trampas's great strength; he need make no movemeanwhile, but lie low for the immediate temptation to front and waylaythem and win his battle over the deputy foreman. But the Virginianseemed to find nothing save enjoyment in this sunny September morning, and ate his breakfast at Forsythe serenely. 

That meal done and that station gone, our caboose took up again its easytrundle by the banks of the Yellowstone. The mutineers sat for a whiledigesting in idleness. 

"What's your scar?" inquired one at length inspecting casually the neckof his neighbor. 

"Foolishness, " the other answered. 

"Yourn?"

"Mine. "

"Well, I don't know but I prefer to have myself to thank for a thing, "said the first. 

"I was displaying myself, " continued the second. "One day last summer itwas. We come on a big snake by Torrey Creek corral. The boys got bettingpretty lively that I dassent make my word good as to dealing with him, so I loped my cayuse full tilt by Mr. Snake, and swung down and catchedhim up by the tail from the ground, and cracked him same as a whip, andsnapped his head off. You've saw it done?" he said to the audience. 

The audience nodded wearily. 

"But the loose head flew agin me, and the fangs caught. I was prettysick for a while. "

"It don't pay to be clumsy, " said the first man. "If you'd snapped thesnake away from yu' instead of toward yu', its head would have whirledoff into the brush, same as they do with me. "

"How like a knife-cut your scar looks!" said I. 

"Don't it?" said the snake-snapper. "There's many that gets fooled byit. "

"An antelope knows a snake is his enemy, " said another to me. "Ever seena buck circling round and round a rattler?"

"I have always wanted to see that, " said I, heartily. For this I knew tobe a respectable piece of truth. 

"It's worth seeing, " the man went on. "After the buck gets close in, hegives an almighty jump up in the air, and down comes his four hoofs ina bunch right on top of Mr. Snake. Cuts him all to hash. Now you tell mehow the buck knows that. "

Of course I could not tell him. And again we sat in silence for awhile--friendlier silence, I thought. 

"A skunk'll kill yu' worse than a snake bite, " said another, presently. "No, I don't mean that way, " he added. For I had smiled. "There is abrown skunk down in Arkansaw. Kind of prairie-dog brown. Littler thanour variety, he is. And he is mad the whole year round, same as a doggets. Only the dog has a spell and dies but this here Arkansaw skunkis mad right along, and it don't seem to interfere with his business inother respects. Well, suppose you're camping out, and suppose it's a hotnight, or you're in a hurry, and you've made camp late, or anyway youhaven't got inside any tent, but you have just bedded down in the open. Skunk comes travelling along and walks on your blankets. You're warm. Helikes that, same as a cat does. And he tramps with pleasure and comfort, same as a cat. And you move. You get bit, that's all. And you die ofhydrophobia. Ask anybody. "

"Most extraordinary!" said I. "But did you ever see a person die fromthis?"

"No, sir. Never happened to. My cousin at Bald Knob did. "

"Died?"

"No, sir. Saw a man. "

"But how do you know they're not sick skunks?"

"No, sir! They're well skunks. Well as anything. You'll not meet skunksin any state of the Union more robust than them in Arkansaw. And thick. "

"That's awful true, " sighed another. "I have buried hundreds of dollars'worth of clothes in Arkansaw. "

"Why didn't yu' travel in a sponge bag?" inquired Scipio. And thisbrought a slight silence. 

"Speakin' of bites, " spoke up a new man, "how's that?" He held up histhumb. 

"My!" breathed Scipio. "Must have been a lion. "

The man wore a wounded look. "I was huntin' owl eggs for a botanist fromBoston, " he explained to me. 

"Chiropodist, weren't he?" said Scipio. "Or maybe a sonnabulator?"

"No, honest, " protested the man with the thumb; so that I was sorry forhim, and begged him to go on. 

"I'll listen to you, " I assured him. And I wondered why this politenessof mine should throw one or two of them into stifled mirth. Scipio, onthe other hand, gave me a disgusted look and sat back sullenly for amoment, and then took himself out on the platform, where the Virginianwas lounging. 

"The young feller wore knee-pants and ever so thick spectacles with ahalf-moon cut in 'em, " resumed the narrator, "and he carried a tin boxstrung to a strap I took for his lunch till it flew open on him and ahorn toad hustled out. Then I was sure he was a botanist--or whateveryu' say they're called. Well, he would have owl eggs--them littleprairie-owl that some claim can turn their head clean around andkeep a-watchin' yu', only that's nonsense. We was ridin' through thatprairie-dog town, used to be on the flat just after yu' crossed thesouth fork of Powder River on the Buffalo trail, and I said I'd dig anowl nest out for him if he was willing to camp till I'd dug it. I wantedto know about them owls some myself--if they did live with the dogs andsnakes, yu' know, " he broke off, appealing to me. 

"Oh, yes, " I told him eagerly. 

"So while the botanist went glarin' around the town with his glasses tosee if he could spot a prairie-dog and an owl usin' the same hole, I wasdiggin' in a hole I'd seen an owl run down. And that's what I got. " Heheld up his thumb again. 

"The snake!" I exclaimed. 

"Yes, sir. Mr. Rattler was keepin' house that day. Took me right there. I hauled him out of the hole hangin' to me. Eight rattles. "

"Eight!" said I. "A big one. "

"Yes, sir. Thought I was dead. But the woman--"

"The woman?" said I. 

"Yes, woman. Didn't I tell yu' the botanist had his wife along? Well, hedid. And she acted better than the man, for he was rosin' his head, and shoutin' he had no whiskey, and he didn't guess his knife was sharpenough to amputate my thumb, and none of us chewed, and the doctorwas twenty miles away, and if he had only remembered to bring hisammonia--well, he was screeching out 'most everything he knew in theworld, and without arranging it any, neither. But she just clawed hispocket and burrowed and kep' yelling, 'Give him the stone, Augustus!'And she whipped out one of them Injun medicine-stones, --first one I everseen, --and she clapped it on to my thumb, and it started in right away. "

"What did it do?" said I. 

"Sucked. Like blotting-paper does. Soft and funny it was, and gray. Theyget 'em from elks' stomachs, yu' know. And when it had sucked the poisonout of the wound, off it falls of my thumb by itself! And I thanked thewoman for saving my life that capable and keeping her head that cool. I never knowed how excited she had been till afterward. She was awfulshocked. "

"I suppose she started to talk when the danger was over, " said I, withdeep silence around me. 

"No; she didn't say nothing to me. But when her next child was born, ithad eight rattles. "

Din now rose wild in the caboose. They rocked together. The enthusiastbeat his knee tumultuously. And I joined them. Who could help it? Ithad been so well conducted from the imperceptible beginning. Fact andfalsehood blended with such perfect art. And this last, an effect sonew made with such world-old material! I cared nothing that I wasthe victim, and I joined them; but ceased, feeling suddenly somehowestranged or chilled. It was in their laughter. The loudness was tooloud. And I caught the eyes of Trampas fixed upon the Virginian withexultant malevolence. Scipio's disgusted glance was upon me from thedoor. 

Dazed by these signs, I went out on the platform to get away from thenoise. There the Virginian said to me: "Cheer up! You'll not be so easyfor 'em that-a-way next season. "

He said no more; and with his legs dangled over the railing, appeared toresume his newspaper. 

"What's the matter?" said I to Scipio. 

"Oh, I don't mind if he don't, " Scipio answered. "Couldn't yu' see? Itried to head 'em off from yu' all I knew, but yu' just ran in among 'emyourself. Couldn't yu' see? Kep' hinderin' and spoilin' me with askin'those urgent questions of yourn--why, I had to let yu' go your way! Why, that wasn't the ordinary play with the ordinary tenderfoot they treatedyou to! You ain't a common tenderfoot this trip. You're the foreman'sfriend. They've hit him through you. That's the way they count it. It'smade them encouraged. Can't yu' see?"

Scipio stated it plainly. And as we ran by the next station, "Howard!"they harshly yelled. "Portland 1256!"

We had been passing gangs of workmen on the track. And at that last yellthe Virginian rose. "I reckon I'll join the meeting again, " he said. "This filling and repairing looks like the washout might have beentrue. "

"Washout?" said Scipio. 

"Big Horn bridge, they say--four days ago. "

"Then I wish it came this side Rawhide station. "

"Do yu'?" drawled the Virginian. And smiling at Scipio, he lounged inthrough the open door. 

"He beats me, " said Scipio, shaking his head. "His trail is turrublehard to anticipate. "

We listened. 

"Work bein' done on the road, I see, " the Virginian was saying, veryfriendly and conversational. 

"We see it too, " said the voice of Trampas. 

"Seem to be easin' their grades some. "

"Roads do. "

"Cheaper to build 'em the way they want 'em at the start, a man wouldthink, " suggested the Virginian, most friendly. "There go some moreI-talians. "

"They're Chinese, " said Trampas. 

"That's so, " acknowledged the Virginian, with a laugh. 

"What's he monkeyin' at now?" muttered Scipio. 

"Without cheap foreigners they couldn't afford all this hyeh newgradin', " the Southerner continued. 

"Grading! Can't you tell when a flood's been eating the banks?"

"Why, yes, " said the Virginian, sweet as honey. "But 'ain't yu' heardof the improvements west of Big Timber, all the way to Missoula, thisseason? I'm talkin' about them. "

"Oh! Talking about them. Yes, I've heard. "

"Good money-savin' scheme, ain't it?" said the Virginian. "Lettin' afreight run down one hill an' up the next as far as she'll go withoutsteam, an' shavin' the hill down to that point. " Now this was an honestengineering fact. "Better'n settin' dudes squintin' through telescopesand cypherin' over one per cent reductions, " the Southerner commented. 

"It's common sense, " assented Trampas. "Have you heard the new schemeabout the water-tanks?"

"I ain't right certain, " said the Southerner. 

"I must watch this, " said Scipio, "or I shall bust. " He went in, and sodid I. 

They were all sitting over this discussion of the Northern Pacific'srecent policy as to betterments, as though they were the board ofdirectors. Pins could have dropped. Only nobody would have cared to heara pin. 

"They used to put all their tanks at the bottom of their grades, " saidTrampas. 

"Why, yu' get the water easier at the bottom. "

"You can pump it to the top, though, " said Trampas, growing superior. "And it's cheaper. "

"That gets me, " said the Virginian, interested. 

"Trains after watering can start down hill now and get the benefit ofthe gravity. It'll cut down operating expenses a heap. "

"That's cert'nly common sense!" exclaimed the Virginian, absorbed. "Butain't it kind o' tardy?"

"Live and learn. So they gained speed, too. High speed on half the coalthis season, until the accident. "

"Accident!" said the Virginian, instantly. 

"Yellowstone Limited. Man fired at engine driver. Train was flying pastthat quick the bullet broke every window and killed a passenger on theback platform. You've been running too much with aristocrats, " finishedTrampas, and turned on his heel. 

"Haw, hew!" began the enthusiast, but his neighbor gripped him tosilence. This was a triumph too serious for noise. Not a mutineer moved;and I felt cold. 

"Trampas, " said the Virginian, "I thought yu'd be afeared to try it onme. "

Trampas whirled round. His hand was at his belt. "Afraid!" he sneered. 

"Shorty!" said Scipio, sternly, and leaping upon that youth, took hishalf-drawn pistol from him. 

"I'm obliged to yu', " said the Virginian to Scipio. Trampas's hand lefthis belt. He threw a slight, easy look at his men, and keeping his backto the Virginian, walked out on the platform and sat on the chair wherethe Virginian had sat so much. 

"Don't you comprehend, " said the Virginian to Shorty, amiably, "thatthis hyeh question has been discussed peaceable by civilized citizens?Now you sit down and be good, and Mr. Le Moyne will return your gun whenwe're across that broken bridge, if they have got it fixed for heavytrains yet. "

"This train will be lighter when it gets to that bridge, " spoke Trampas, out on his chair. 

"Why, that's true, too!" said the Virginian. "Maybe none of us arecrossin' that Big Horn bridge now, except me. Funny if yu' should end bypersuadin' me to quit and go to Rawhide myself! But I reckon I'll not. Ireckon I'll worry along to Sunk Creek, somehow. "

"Don't forget I'm cookin' for yu', " said Scipio, gruffy. 

"I'm obliged to yu', " said the Southerner. 

"You were speaking of a job for me, " said Shorty. 

"I'm right obliged. But yu' see--I ain't exackly foreman the way thiscomes out, and my promises might not bind Judge Henry to pay salaries. "

A push came through the train from forward. We were slowing for theRawhide station, and all began to be busy and to talk. "Going up to themines to-day?" "Oh, let's grub first. " "Guess it's too late, anyway. "And so forth; while they rolled and roped their bedding, and put ontheir coats with a good deal of elbow motion, and otherwise showedoff. It was wasted. The Virginian did not know what was going on in thecaboose. He was leaning and looking out ahead, and Scipio's puzzledeye never left him. And as we halted for the water-tank, the Southernerexclaimed, "They 'ain t got away yet!" as if it were good news to him. 

He meant the delayed trains. Four stalled expresses were in front of us, besides several freights. And two hours more at least before the bridgewould be ready. 

Travellers stood and sat about forlorn, near the cars, out in thesage-brush, anywhere. People in hats and spurs watched them, and Indianchiefs offered them painted bows and arrows and shiny horns. 

"I reckon them passengers would prefer a laig o' mutton, " said theVirginian to a man loafing near the caboose. 

"Bet your life!" said the man. "First lot has been stuck here fourdays. "

"Plumb starved, ain't they?" inquired the Virginian. 

"Bet your life! They've eat up their dining cars and they've eat up thistown. "

"Well, " said the Virginian, looking at the town, "I expaict thedining-cyars contained more nourishment. "

"Say, you're about right there!" said the man. He walked beside thecaboose as we puffed slowly forward from the water-tank to our siding. "Fine business here if we'd only been ready, " he continued. "And theCrow agent has let his Indians come over from the reservation. There hasbeen a little beef brought in, and game, and fish. And big money in it, bet your life! Them Eastern passengers has just been robbed. I wisht Ihad somethin' to sell!"

"Anything starting for Rawhide this afternoon?" said Trampas, out of thecaboose door. 

"Not until morning, " said the man. "You going to the mines?" he resumedto the Virginian. 

"Why, " answered the Southerner, slowly and casually, and addressinghimself strictly to the man, while Trampas, on his side, paid obviousinattention, "this hyeh delay, yu' see, may unsettle our plans some. But it'll be one of two ways, --we're all goin' to Rawhide, or we're allgoin' to Billings. We're all one party, yu' see. "

Trampas laughed audibly inside the door as he rejoined his men. "Let himkeep up appearances, " I heard him tell them. "It don't hurt us what hesays to strangers. "

"But I'm goin' to eat hearty either way, " continued the Virginian. "AndI ain' goin' to be robbed. I've been kind o' promisin' myself a treat ifwe stopped hyeh. "

"Town's eat clean out, " said the man. 

"So yu' tell me. But all you folks has forgot one source of revenue thatyu' have right close by, mighty handy. If you have got a gunny sack, I'll show you how to make some money. "

"Bet your life!" said the man. 

"Mr. Le Moyne, " said the Virginian, "the outfit's cookin' stuff isaboard, and if you'll get the fire ready, we'll try how frawgs' laigs gofried. " He walked off at once, the man following like a dog. Inside thecaboose rose a gust of laughter. 

"Frogs!" muttered Scipio. And then turning a blank face to me, "Frogs?"

"Colonel Cyrus Jones had them on his bill of fare, " I said. "'FROGS'LEGS A LA DELMONICO. '"

"Shoo! I didn't get up that thing. They had it when I came. Never lookedat it. Frogs?" He went down the steps very slowly, with a long frown. Reaching the ground, he shook his head. "That man's trail is surelyhard to anticipate, " he said. "But I must hurry up that fire. For hisappearance has given me encouragement, " Scipio concluded, and becamebrisk. Shorty helped him, and I brought wood. Trampas and the otherpeople strolled off to the station, a compact band. 

Our little fire was built beside the caboose, so the cooking thingsmight be easily reached and put back. You would scarcely think suchoperations held any interest, even for the hungry, when there seemedto be nothing to cook. A few sticks blazing tamely in the dust, afrying-pan, half a tin bucket of lard, some water, and barren plates andknives and forks, and three silent men attending to them--that was all. But the travellers came to see. These waifs drew near us, and stood, asad, lone, shifting fringe of audience; four to begin with; and then twowandered away; and presently one of these came back, finding it worseelsewhere. "Supper, boys?" said he. "Breakfast, " said Scipio, crossly. And no more of them addressed us. I heard them joylessly mention WallStreet to each other, and Saratoga; I even heard the name Bryn Mawr, which is near Philadelphia. But these fragments of home dropped in thewilderness here in Montana beside a freight caboose were of no interestto me now. 

"Looks like frogs down there, too, " said Scipio. "See them marshy slogsfull of weeds?" We took a little turn and had a sight of the Virginianquite active among the ponds. "Hush! I'm getting some thoughts, "continued Scipio. "He wasn't sorry enough. Don't interrupt me. "

"I'm not, " said I. 

"No. But I'd 'most caught a-hold. " And Scipio muttered to himself again, "He wasn't sorry enough. " Presently he swore loud and brilliantly. "Tell yu'!" he cried. "What did he say to Trampas after that play theyexchanged over railroad improvements and Trampas put the josh on him?Didn't he say, 'Trampas, I thought you'd be afraid to do it?' Well, sir, Trampas had better have been afraid. And that's what he meant. There'swhere he was bringin' it to. Trampas made an awful bad play then. Youwait. Glory, but he's a knowin' man! Course he wasn't sorry. I guess hehad the hardest kind of work to look as sorry as he did. You wait. "

"Wait? What for? Go on, man! What for?"

"I don't know! I don't know! Whatever hand he's been holdin' up, this isthe show-down. He's played for a show-down here before the caboose getsoff the bridge. Come back to the fire, or Shorty'll be leavin' itgo out. Grow happy some, Shorty!" he cried on arriving, and his handcracked on Shorty's shoulder. "Supper's in sight, Shorty. Food forreflection. "

"None for the stomach?" asked the passenger who had spoken once before. 

"We're figuring on that too, " said Scipio. His crossness had meltedentirely away. 

"Why, they're cow-boys!" exclaimed another passenger; and he movednearer. 

From the station Trampas now came back, his herd following him lesscompactly. They had found famine, and no hope of supplies until thenext train from the East. This was no fault of Trampas's; but they werefollowing him less compactly. They carried one piece of cheese, thesize of a fist, the weight of a brick, the hue of a corpse. And thepassengers, seeing it, exclaimed, "There's Old Faithful again!" and tookoff their hats. 

"You gentlemen met that cheese before, then?" said Scipio, delighted. 

"It's been offered me three times a day for four days, " said thepassenger. "Did he want a dollar or a dollar and a half?"

"Two dollars!" blurted out the enthusiast. And all of us save Trampasfell into fits of imbecile laughter. 

"Here comes our grub, anyway, " said Scipio, looking off toward themarshes. And his hilarity sobered away in a moment. 

"Well, the train will be in soon, " stated Trampas. "I guess we'll get adecent supper without frogs. "

All interest settled now upon the Virginian. He was coming with his manand his gunny sack, and the gunny sack hung from his shoulder heavily, as a full sack should. He took no notice of the gathering, but sat downand partly emptied the sack. "There, " said he, very businesslike, to hisassistant, "that's all we'll want. I think you'll find a ready marketfor the balance. "

"Well, my gracious!" said the enthusiast. "What fool eats a frog?"

"Oh, I'm fool enough for a tadpole!" cried the passenger. And they beganto take out their pocket-books. 

"You can cook yours right hyeh, gentlemen, " said the Virginian, withhis slow Southern courtesy. "The dining-cyars don't look like they werefired up. "

"How much will you sell a couple for?" inquired the enthusiast. 

The Virginian looked at him with friendly surprise. "Why, help yourself!We're all together yet awhile. Help yourselves, " he repeated, to Trampasand his followers. These hung back a moment, then, with a slinkingmotion, set the cheese upon the earth and came forward nearer the fireto receive some supper. 

"It won't scarcely be Delmonico style, " said the Virginian to thepassengers, "nor yet Saynt Augustine. " He meant the great Augustin, thetraditional chef of Philadelphia, whose history I had sketched for himat Colonel Cyrus Jones's eating palace. 

Scipio now officiated. His frying-pan was busy, and prosperous odorsrose from it. 

"Run for a bucket of fresh water, Shorty, " the Virginian continued, beginning his meal. "Colonel, yu' cook pretty near good. If yu' had sold'em as advertised, yu'd have cert'nly made a name. "

Several were now eating with satisfaction, but not Scipio. It was allthat he could do to cook straight. The whole man seemed to glisten. His eye was shut to a slit once more, while the innocent passengersthankfully swallowed. 

"Now, you see, you have made some money, " began the Virginian to thenative who had helped him get the frogs. 

"Bet your life!" exclaimed the man. "Divvy, won't you?" And he held outhalf his gains. 

"Keep 'em, " returned the Southerner. "I reckon we're square. But Iexpaict they'll not equal Delmonico's, seh?" he said to a passenger. 

"Don't trust the judgment of a man as hungry as I am!" exclaimed thetraveller, with a laugh. And he turned to his fellow-travellers. "Didyou ever enjoy supper at Delmonico's more than this?"

"Never!" they sighed. 

"Why, look here, " said the traveller, "what fools the people of thistown are! Here we've been all these starving days, and you come and getahead of them!"

"That's right easy explained, " said the Virginian. "I've been wherethere was big money in frawgs, and they 'ain't been. They're all cattlehyeh. Talk cattle, think cattle, and they're bankrupt in consequence. Fallen through. Ain't that so?" he inquired of the native. 

"That's about the way, " said the man. 

"It's mighty hard to do what your neighbors ain't doin', " pursued theVirginian. "Montana is all cattle, an' these folks must be cattle, an' never notice the country right hyeh is too small for a range, an'swampy, anyway, an' just waitin' to be a frawg ranch. "

At this, all wore a face of careful reserve. 

"I'm not claimin' to be smarter than you folks hyeh, " said theVirginian, deprecatingly, to his assistant. "But travellin' learns aman many customs. You wouldn't do the business they done at Tulare, California, north side o' the lake. They cert'nly utilized them hopelessswamps splendid. Of course they put up big capital and went into itscientific, gettin' advice from the government Fish Commission, an' suchlike knowledge. Yu' see, they had big markets for their frawgs, --SanFrancisco, Los Angeles, and clear to New York afteh the Southern Pacificwas through. But up hyeh yu' could sell to passengers every day like yu'done this one day. They would get to know yu' along the line. Competingswamps are scarce. The dining-cyars would take your frawgs, and yu'would have the Yellowstone Park for four months in the year. Them hotelsare anxious to please, an' they would buy off yu' what their Easternpatrons esteem as fine-eatin'. And you folks would be sellin' somethinginstead o' nothin'. "

"That's a practical idea, " said a traveller. "And little cost. "

"And little cost, " said the Virginian. 

"Would Eastern people eat frogs?" inquired the man. 

"Look at us!" said the traveller. 

"Delmonico doesn't give yu' such a treat!" said the Virginian. 

"Not exactly!" the traveller exclaimed. 

"How much would be paid for frogs?" said Trampas to him. And I sawScipio bend closer to his cooking. 

"Oh, I don't know, " said the traveller. "We've paid pretty well, yousee. "

"You're late for Tulare, Trampas, " said the Virginian. 

"I was not thinking of Tulare, " Trampas retorted. Scipio's nose was inthe frying-pan. 

"Mos' comical spot you ever struck!" said the Virginian, looking roundupon the whole company. He allowed himself a broad smile of retrospect. "To hear 'em talk frawgs at Tulare! Same as other folks talks hawsses orsteers or whatever they're raising to sell. Yu'd fall into it yourselvesif yu' started the business. Anything a man's bread and butter dependson, he's going to be earnest about. Don't care if it is a frawg. "

"That's so, " said the native. "And it paid good?"

"The only money in the county was right there, " answered the Virginian. "It was a dead county, and only frawgs was movin'. But that business wasa-fannin' to beat four of a kind. It made yu' feel strange at first, asI said. For all the men had been cattle-men at one time or another. Till yu' got accustomed, it would give 'most anybody a shock to hear 'emspeak about herdin' the bulls in a pasture by themselves. " The Virginianallowed himself another smile, but became serious again. "That was theirpolicy, " he explained. "Except at certain times o' year they kept thebulls separate. The Fish Commission told 'em they'd better, and itcert'nly worked mighty well. It or something did--for, gentlemen, hush!but there was millions. You'd have said all the frawgs in the world hadtaken charge at Tulare. And the money rolled in! Gentlemen, hush! 'twasa gold mine for the owners. Forty per cent they netted some years. And they paid generous wages. For they could sell to all them Frenchrestaurants in San Francisco, yu' see. And there was the Cliff House. And the Palace Hotel made it a specialty. And the officers took frawgsat the Presidio, an' Angel Island, an' Alcatraz, an' Benicia. LosAngeles was beginnin' its boom. The corner-lot sharps wanted somethingby way of varnish. An' so they dazzled Eastern investors withadvertisin' Tulare frawgs clear to New Orleans an' New York. 'Twas onlyin Sacramento frawgs was dull. I expaict the California legislaturewas too or'n'ry for them fine-raised luxuries. They tell of one of themsenators that he raked a million out of Los Angeles real estate, andstarted in for a bang-up meal with champagne. Wanted to scatter his newgold thick an' quick. But he got astray among all the fancy dishes, an' just yelled right out before the ladies, 'Damn it! bring me fortydollars' worth of ham and aiggs. ' He was a funny senator, now. "

The Virginian paused, and finished eating a leg. And then with diabolicart he made a feint at wandering to new fields of anecdote. "Talkin' ofsenators, " he resumed, "Senator Wise--"

"How much did you say wages were at Tulare?" inquired one of the Trampasfaction. 

"How much? Why, I never knew what the foreman got. The regular hands gota hundred. Senator Wise--"

"A hundred a MONTH?"

"Why, it was wet an' muddy work, yu' see. A man risked rheumatism some. He risked it a good deal. Well, I was going to tell about Senator Wise. When Senator Wise was speaking of his visit to Alaska--"

"Forty per cent, was it?" said Trampas. 

"Oh, I must call my wife'" said the traveller behind me. "This is what Icame West for. " And he hurried away. 

"Not forty per cent the bad years, " replied the Virginian. "The frawgshad enemies, same as cattle. I remember when a pelican got in the springpasture, and the herd broke through the fence--"

"Fence?" said a passenger. 

"Ditch, seh, and wire net. Every pasture was a square swamp with a ditcharound, and a wire net. Yu've heard the mournful, mixed-up sound a bigbunch of cattle will make? Well, seh, as yu' druv from the railroad tothe Tulare frawg ranch yu' could hear 'em a mile. Springtime they'd singlike girls in the organ loft, and by August they were about ready tohire out for bass. And all was fit to be soloists, if I'm a judge. Butin a bad year it might only be twenty per cent. The pelican rushed 'emfrom the pasture right into the San Joaquin River, which was closeby the property. The big balance of the herd stampeded, and though ofcourse they came out on the banks again, the news had went around, andfolks below at Hemlen eat most of 'em just to spite the company. Yu'see, a frawg in a river is more hopeless than any maverick loose on therange. And they never struck any plan to brand their stock and proveownership. "

"Well, twenty per cent is good enough for me, " said Trampas, "if Rawhidedon't suit me. "

"A hundred a month!" said the enthusiast. And busy calculations began toarise among them. 

"It went to fifty per cent, " pursued the Virginian, "when New York andPhiladelphia got to biddin' agaynst each other. Both cities had signsall over 'em claiming to furnish the Tulare frawg. And both had 'em allright. And same as cattle trains, yu'd see frawg trains tearing acrosstArizona--big glass tanks with wire over 'em--through to New York, an'the frawgs starin' out. "

"Why, George, " whispered a woman's voice behind me, "he's merelydeceiving them! He's merely making that stuff up out of his head. "

"Yes, my dear, that's merely what he's doing. "

"Well, I don't see why you imagined I should care for this. I think I'llgo back. "

"Better see it out, Daisy. This beats the geysers or anything we'relikely to find in the Yellowstone. "

"Then I wish we had gone to Bar Harbor as usual, " said the lady, and shereturned to her Pullman. 

But her husband stayed. Indeed, the male crowd now was a goodly sightto see, how the men edged close, drawn by a common tie. Their differentkinds of feet told the strength of the bond--yellow sleeping-carslippers planted miscellaneous and motionless near a pair of Mexicanspurs. All eyes watched the Virginian and gave him their entiresympathy. Though they could not know his motive for it, what he wasdoing had fallen as light upon them--all except the excited calculators. These were loudly making their fortunes at both Rawhide and Tulare, drugged by their satanically aroused hopes of gold, heedless of theslippers and the spurs. Had a man given any sign to warn them, I thinkhe would have been lynched. Even the Indian chiefs had come to see intheir show war bonnets and blankets. They naturally understood nothingof it, yet magnetically knew that the Virginian was the great man. Andthey watched him with approval. He sat by the fire with the frying-pan, looking his daily self--engaging and saturnine. And now as Trampasdeclared tickets to California would be dear and Rawhide had better comefirst, the Southerner let loose his heaven-born imagination. 

"There's a better reason for Rawhide than tickets, Trampas, " said he. "Isaid it was too late for Tulare. "

"I heard you, " said Trampas. "Opinions may differ. You and I don't thinkalike on several points. "

"Gawd, Trampas!" said the Virginian, "d' yu' reckon I'd be rotting hyehon forty dollars if Tulare was like it used to be? Tulare is broke. "

"What broke it? Your leaving?"

"Revenge broke it, and disease, " said the Virginian, striking thefrying-pan on his knee, for the frogs were all gone. At those luridwords their untamed child minds took fire, and they drew round him againto hear a tale of blood. The crowd seemed to lean nearer. 

But for a short moment it threatened to be spoiled. A passenger camealong, demanding in an important voice, "Where are these frogs?" He wasa prominent New York after-dinner speaker, they whispered me, andout for a holiday in his private car. Reaching us and walking to theVirginian, he said cheerily, "How much do you want for your frogs, myfriend?"

"You got a friend hyeh?" said the Virginian. "That's good, for yu'need care taken of yu'. " And the prominent after-dinner speaker did notfurther discommode us. 

"That's worth my trip, " whispered a New York passenger to me. 

"Yes, it was a case of revenge, " resumed the Virginian, "and disease. There was a man named Saynt Augustine got run out of Domingo, which isa Dago island. He come to Philadelphia, an' he was dead broke. But SayntAugustine was a live man, an' he saw Philadelphia was full o' Quakersthat dressed plain an' eat humdrum. So he started cookin' Domingoway for 'em, an' they caught right ahold. Terrapin, he gave 'em, an' croakeets, an' he'd use forty chickens to make a broth he calledconsommay. An' he got rich, and Philadelphia got well known, an'Delmonico in New York he got jealous. He was the cook that had thesay-so in New York. "

"Was Delmonico one of them I-talians?" inquired a fascinated mutineer. 

"I don't know. But he acted like one. Lorenzo was his front name. Heaimed to cut--"

"Domingo's throat?" breathed the enthusiast. 

"Aimed to cut away the trade from Saynt Augustine an' put Philadelphiaback where he thought she belonged. Frawgs was the fashionable ragethen. These foreign cooks set the fashion in eatin', same as foreigndressmakers do women's clothes. Both cities was catchin' and swallowin'all the frawgs Tulare could throw at 'em. So he--"

"Lorenzo?" said the enthusiast. 

"Yes, Lorenzo Delmonico. He bid a dollar a tank higher. An' SayntAugustine raised him fifty cents. An' Lorenzo raised him a dollarAn' Saynt Augustine shoved her up three. Lorenzo he didn't expectPhiladelphia would go that high, and he got hot in the collar, an' flewround his kitchen in New York, an' claimed he'd twist Saynt Augustine'sDomingo tail for him and crack his ossified system. Lorenzo raised hislanguage to a high temperature, they say. An' then quite sudden offhe starts for Tulare. He buys tickets over the Santa Fe, and he goesa-fannin' and a-foggin'. But, gentlemen, hush! The very same day SayntAugustine he tears out of Philadelphia. He travelled by the way o'Washington, an' out he comes a-fannin' an' a-foggin' over the SouthernPacific. Of course Tulare didn't know nothin' of this. All it knowedwas how the frawg market was on soarin' wings, and it was feelin' likea flight o' rawckets. If only there'd been some preparation, --a telegramor something, --the disaster would never have occurred. But Lorenzo andSaynt Augustine was that absorbed watchin' each other--for, yu' see, theSanta Fe and the Southern Pacific come together at Mojave, an' thetwo cooks travelled a matter of two hundred an' ten miles in thesame cyar--they never thought about a telegram. And when they arruv, breathless, an' started in to screechin' what they'd give for themonopoly, why, them unsuspectin' Tulare boys got amused at 'em. I neverheard just all they done, but they had Lorenzo singin' and dancin', while Saynt Augustine played the fiddle for him. And one of Lorenzo'sheels did get a trifle grazed. Well, them two cooks quit that ranchwithout disclosin' their identity, and soon as they got to a safedistance they swore eternal friendship, in their excitable foreign way. And they went home over the Union Pacific, sharing the same stateroom. Their revenge killed frawgs. The disease--"

"How killed frogs?" demanded Trampas. 

"Just killed 'em. Delmonico and Saynt Augustine wiped frawgs off theslate of fashion. Not a banker in Fifth Avenue'll touch one now ifanother banker's around watchin' him. And if ever yu' see a man thathides his feet an' won't take off his socks in company, he has worked inthem Tulare swamps an' got the disease. Catch him wadin', and yu'll findhe's web-footed. Frawgs are dead, Trampas, and so are you. "

"Rise up, liars, and salute your king!" yelled Scipio. "Oh, I'm in lovewith you!" And he threw his arms round the Virginian. 

"Let me shake hands with you, " said the traveller, who had failed tointerest his wife in these things. "I wish I was going to have more ofyour company. "

"Thank ye', seh, " said the Virginian. 

Other passengers greeted him, and the Indian chiefs came, saying, "How!"because they followed their feelings without understanding. 

"Don't show so humbled, boys, " said the deputy foreman to his mostsheepish crew. "These gentlemen from the East have been enjoying yu'some, I know. But think what a weary wait they have had hyeh. And youinsisted on playing the game with me this way, yu' see. What outlet didyu' give me? Didn't I have it to do? And I'll tell yu' one thingfor your consolation: when I got to the middle of the frawgs I 'mostbelieved it myself. " And he laughed out the first laugh I had heard himgive. 

The enthusiast came up and shook hands. That led off, and the restfollowed, with Trampas at the end. The tide was too strong for him. Hewas not a graceful loser; but he got through this, and the Virginianeased him down by treating him precisely like the others--apparently. Possibly the supreme--the most American--moment of all was when wordcame that the bridge was open, and the Pullman trains, with noise andtriumph, began to move westward at last. Every one waved farewell toevery one, craning from steps and windows, so that the cars twinkledwith hilarity; and in twenty minutes the whole procession in front hadmoved, and our turn came. 

"Last chance for Rawhide, " said the Virginian. 

"Last chance for Sunk Creek, " said a reconstructed mutineer, and allsprang aboard. There was no question who had won his spurs now. 

Our caboose trundled on to Billings along the shingly cotton-woodedYellowstone; and as the plains and bluffs and the distant snow began togrow well known, even to me, we turned to our baggage that was to comeoff, since camp would begin in the morning. Thus I saw the Virginiancarefully rewrapping Kenilworth, that he might bring it to its ownerunharmed; and I said, "Don't you think you could have played poker withQueen Elizabeth?"

"No; I expaict she'd have beat me, " he replied. "She was a lady. "

It was at Billings, on this day, that I made those reflections aboutequality. For the Virginian had been equal to the occasion: that is theonly kind of equality which I recognize. 

XVII. SCIPIO MORALIZES

Into what mood was it that the Virginian now fell? Being less busy, did he begin to "grieve" about the girl on Bear Creek? I only knowthat after talking so lengthily he fell into a nine days' silence. Thetalking part of him deeply and unbrokenly slept. 

Official words of course came from him as we rode southward from therailroad, gathering the Judge's stray cattle. During the many weekssince the spring round-up, some of these animals had as usual gotvery far off their range, and getting them on again became the presentbusiness of our party. 

Directions and commands--whatever communications to his subordinateswere needful to the forwarding of this--he duly gave. But routine hasnever at any time of the world passed for conversation. His utterances, such as, "We'll work Willo' Creek to-morro' mawnin', " or, "I want thewagon to be at the fawks o' Stinkin' Water by Thursday, " though on someoccasions numerous enough to sound like discourse, never once broke theman's true silence. Seeming to keep easy company with the camp, he yetkept altogether to himself. That talking part of him--the mood whichbrings out for you your friend's spirit and mind as a free gift or as anexchange--was down in some dark cave of his nature, hidden away. Perhapsit had been dreaming; perhaps completely reposing. The Virginian was oneof those rare ones who are able to refresh themselves in sections. Tohave a thing on his mind did not keep his body from resting. During ourrecent journey--it felt years ago now!--while our caboose on the freighttrain had trundled endlessly westward, and the men were on the raggededge, the very jumping-off place, of mutiny and possible murder, I hadseen him sleep like a child. He snatched the moments not necessary forvigil. I had also seen him sit all night watching his responsibility, ready to spring on it and fasten his teeth in it. And now that he hadconfounded them with their own attempted weapon of ridicule, his powersseemed to be profoundly dormant. That final pitched battle of wits hadmade the men his captives and admirers--all save Trampas. And of him theVirginian did not seem to be aware. 

But Scipio le Moyne would say to me now and then, "If I was Trampas, I'dpull my freight. " And once he added, "Pull it kind of casual, yu' know, like I wasn't noticing myself do it. "

"Yes, " our friend Shorty murmured pregnantly, with his eye upon thequiet Virginian, "he's sure studying his revenge. "

"Studying your pussy-cat, " said Scipio. "He knows what he'll do. Thetime 'ain't arrived. " This was the way they felt about it; and notunnaturally this was the way they made me, the inexperienced Easterner, feel about it. That Trampas also felt something about it was easyto know. Like the leaven which leavens the whole lump, one spot ofsulkiness in camp will spread its dull flavor through any company thatsits near it; and we had to sit near Trampas at meals for nine days. 

His sullenness was not wonderful. To feel himself forsaken by his recentadherents, to see them gone over to his enemy, could not have madehis reflections pleasant. Why he did not take himself off to otherclimes--"pull his freight casual, " as Scipio said--I can explain onlythus: pay was due him--"time, " as it was called in cow-land; if he wouldhave this money, he must stay under the Virginian's command until theJudge's ranch on Sunk Creek should be reached; meanwhile, each day'swork added to the wages in store for him; and finally, once at SunkCreek, it would be no more the Virginian who commanded him; it would bethe real ranch foreman. At the ranch he would be the Virginian's equalagain, both of them taking orders from their officially recognizedsuperior, this foreman. Shorty's word about "revenge" seemed to melike putting the thing backwards. Revenge, as I told Scipio, was what Ishould be thinking about if I were Trampas. 

"He dassent, " was Scipio's immediate view. "Not till he's got strongagain. He got laughed plumb sick by the bystanders, and whatever spirithe had was broke in the presence of us all. He'll have to recuperate. "Scipio then spoke of the Virginian's attitude. "Maybe revenge ain't justthe right word for where this affair has got to now with him. When yu'beat another man at his own game like he done to Trampas, why, yu've hadall the revenge yu' can want, unless you're a hog. And he's no hog. Buthe has got it in for Trampas. They've not reckoned to a finish. Wouldyou let a man try such spite-work on you and quit thinkin' about himjust because yu'd headed him off?" To this I offered his own notionabout hogs and being satisfied. "Hogs!" went on Scipio, in a way thatdashed my suggestion to pieces; "hogs ain't in the case. He's got todeal with Trampas somehow--man to man. Trampas and him can't stay thisway when they get back and go workin' same as they worked before. No, sir; I've seen his eye twice, and I know he's goin' to reckon to afinish. "

I still must, in Scipio's opinion, have been slow to understand, when onthe afternoon following this talk I invited him to tell me what sortof "finish" he wanted, after such a finishing as had been dealt Trampasalready. Getting "laughed plumb sick by the bystanders" (I borrowed hisown not overstated expression) seemed to me a highly final finishing. While I was running my notions off to him, Scipio rose, and, with thefrying-pan he had been washing, walked slowly at me. 

"I do believe you'd oughtn't to be let travel alone the way you do. "He put his face close to mine. His long nose grew eloquent in itsshrewdness, while the fire in his bleached blue eye burned with amiablesatire. "What has come and gone between them two has only settled theone point he was aimin' to make. He was appointed boss of this outfit inthe absence of the regular foreman. Since then all he has been playin'for is to hand back his men to the ranch in as good shape as they'd beenhanded to him, and without losing any on the road through desertion orshooting or what not. He had to kick his cook off the train that day, and the loss made him sorrowful, I could see. But I'd happened to comealong, and he jumped me into the vacancy, and I expect he is pretty nearconsoled. And as boss of the outfit he beat Trampas, who was settin' upfor opposition boss. And the outfit is better than satisfied it come outthat way, and they're stayin' with him; and he'll hand them all back ingood condition, barrin' that lost cook. So for the present his point ismade, yu' see. But look ahead a little. It may not be so very far aheadyu'll have to look. We get back to the ranch. He's not boss there anymore. His responsibility is over. He is just one of us again, takingorders from a foreman they tell me has showed partiality to Trampasmore'n a few times. Partiality! That's what Trampas is plainly trustingto. Trusting it will fix him all right and fix his enemy all wrong. He'd not otherwise dare to keep sour like he's doing. Partiality! D' yu'think it'll scare off the enemy?" Scipio looked across a little creekto where the Virginian was helping throw the gathered cattle on thebedground. "What odds"--he pointed the frying-pan at the Southerner--"d'yu' figure Trampas's being under any foreman's wing will make to a manlike him? He's going to remember Mr. Trampas and his spite-work if he'sgot to tear him out from under the wing, and maybe tear off the wing inthe operation. And I am goin' to advise your folks, " ended the completeScipio, "not to leave you travel so much alone--not till you've learnedmore life. "

He had made me feel my inexperience, convinced me of innocence, undoubtedly; and during the final days of our journey I no longerinvoked his aid to my reflections upon this especial topic: What wouldthe Virginian do to Trampas? Would it be another intellectual crushingof him, like the frog story, or would there be something this time morematerial--say muscle, or possibly gunpowder--in it? And was Scipio, after all, infallible? I didn't pretend to understand the Virginian;after several years' knowledge of him he remained utterly beyond me. Scipio's experience was not yet three weeks long. So I let him alone asto all this, discussing with him most other things good and evil inthe world, and being convinced of much further innocence; for Scipio'stwenty odd years were indeed a library of life. I have never met abetter heart, a shrewder wit, and looser morals, with yet a native senseof decency and duty somewhere hard and fast enshrined. 

But all the while I was wondering about the Virginian: eating with him, sleeping with him (only not so sound as he did), and riding beside himoften for many hours. 

Experiments in conversation I did make--and failed. One day particularlywhile, after a sudden storm of hail had chilled the earth numb and whitelike winter in fifteen minutes, we sat drying and warming ourselves bya fire that we built, I touched upon that theme of equality on which Iknew him to hold opinions as strong as mine. "Oh, " he would reply, and"Cert'nly"; and when I asked him what it was in a man that made him aleader of men, he shook his head and puffed his pipe. So then, noticinghow the sun had brought the earth in half an hour back from winter tosummer again, I spoke of our American climate. 

It was a potent drug, I said, for millions to be swallowing every day. 

"Yes, " said he, wiping the damp from his Winchester rifle. 

Our American climate, I said, had worked remarkable changes, at least. 

"Yes, " he said; and did not ask what they were. 

So I had to tell him. "It has made successful politicians of the Irish. That's one. And it has given our whole race the habit of poker. "

Bang went his Winchester. The bullet struck close to my left. I sat upangrily. 

"That's the first foolish thing I ever saw you do!" I said. 

"Yes, " he drawled slowly, "I'd ought to have done it sooner. He waspretty near lively again. " And then he picked up a rattlesnake six feetbehind me. It had been numbed by the hail, part revived by the sun, andhe had shot its head off. 

XVIII. "WOULD YOU BE A PARSON?"

After this I gave up my experiments in conversation. So that by thefinal afternoon of our journey, with Sunk Creek actually in sight, andthe great grasshoppers slatting their dry song over the sage-brush, andthe time at hand when the Virginian and Trampas would be "man to man, "my thoughts rose to a considerable pitch of speculation. 

And now that talking part of the Virginian, which had been nine daysasleep, gave its first yawn and stretch of waking. Without preface, hesuddenly asked me, "Would you be a parson?"

I was mentally so far away that I couldn't get back in time tocomprehend or answer before he had repeated: "What would yu' take to bea parson?"

He drawled it out in his gentle way, precisely as if no nine days stoodbetween it and our last real intercourse. 

"Take?" I was still vaguely moving in my distance. "How?"

His next question brought me home. 

"I expect the Pope's is the biggest of them parson jobs?"

It was with an "Oh!" that I now entirely took his idea. "Well, yes;decidedly the biggest. "

"Beats the English one? Archbishop--ain't it?--of Canterbury? The Popecomes ahead of him?"

"His Holiness would say so if his Grace did not. "

The Virginian turned half in his saddle to see my face--I was, at themoment, riding not quite abreast of him--and I saw the gleam of histeeth beneath his mustache. It was seldom I could make him smile, evento this slight extent. But his eyes grew, with his next words, remoteagain in their speculation. 

"His Holiness and his Grace. Now if I was to hear 'em namin' methat-a-way every mawnin', I'd sca'cely get down to business. "

"Oh, you'd get used to the pride of it. "

"'Tisn't the pride. The laugh is what would ruin me. 'Twould take 'mostall my attention keeping a straight face. The Archbishop"--here hetook one of his wide mental turns--"is apt to be a big man in themShakespeare plays. Kings take talk from him they'd not stand fromanybody else; and he talks fine, frequently. About the bees, forinstance, when Henry is going to fight France. He tells him a beehiveis similar to a kingdom. I learned that piece. " The Virginian could nothave expected to blush at uttering these last words. He knew that hissudden color must tell me in whose book it was he had learned the piece. Was not her copy of Kenilworth even now In his cherishing pocket? Sohe now, to cover his blush, very deliberately recited to me theArchbishop's discourse upon bees and their kingdom:

 "'Where some, like magistrates, correct at home... Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make loot upon the summer's velvet buds; Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor: He, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold. '

"Ain't that a fine description of bees a-workin'? 'The singing masonsbuilding roofs of gold!' Puts 'em right before yu', and is poetrywithout bein' foolish. His Holiness and his Grace. Well, they could nothire me for either o' those positions. How many religions are there?"

"All over the earth?"

"Yu' can begin with ourselves. Right hyeh at home I know there'sRomanists, and Episcopals--"

"Two kinds!" I put in. "At least two of Episcopals. "

"That's three. Then Methodists and Baptists, and--"

"Three Methodists!"

"Well, you do the countin'. "

I accordingly did it, feeling my revolving memory slip cogs all the wayround. "Anyhow, there are safely fifteen. "

"Fifteen. " He held this fact a moment. "And they don't worship a wholeheap o' different gods like the ancients did?"

"Oh, no!"

"It's just the same one?"

"The same one. "

The Virginian folded his hands over the horn of his saddle, and leanedforward upon them in contemplation of the wide, beautiful landscape. 

"One God and fifteen religions, " was his reflection. "That's a rightsmart of religions for just one God. "

This way of reducing it was, if obvious to him, so novel to me that mylaugh evidently struck him as a louder and livelier comment than wasrequired. He turned on me as if I had somehow perverted the spirit ofhis words. 

"I ain't religious. I know that. But I ain't unreligious. And I knowthat too. "

"So do I know it, my friend. "

"Do you think there ought to be fifteen varieties of good people?" Hisvoice, while it now had an edge that could cut anything it came against, was still not raised. "There ain't fifteen. There ain't two. There's onekind. And when I meet it, I respect it. It is not praying nor preachingthat has ever caught me and made me ashamed of myself, but one or twopeople I have knowed that never said a superior word to me. They thoughtmore o' me than I deserved, and that made me behave better than Inaturally wanted to. Made me quit a girl onced in time for her not tolose her good name. And so that's one thing I have never done. And ifever I was to have a son or somebody I set store by, I would wish theirlot to be to know one or two good folks mighty well--men or women--womenpreferred. "

He had looked away again to the hills behind Sunk Creek ranch, to whichour walking horses had now almost brought us. 

"As for parsons "--the gesture of his arm was a disclaiming one--"Ireckon some parsons have a right to tell yu' to be good. The bishopof this hyeh Territory has a right. But I'll tell yu' this: a middlin'doctor is a pore thing, and a middlin' lawyer is a pore thing; but keepme from a middlin' man of God. "

Once again he had reduced it, but I did not laugh this time. I thoughtthere should in truth be heavy damages for malpractice on human souls. But the hot glow of his words, and the vision of his deepest inner manit revealed, faded away abruptly. 

"What do yu' make of the proposition yondeh?" As he pointed to the causeof this question he had become again his daily, engaging, saturnineself. 

Then I saw over in a fenced meadow, to which we were now close, what hewas pleased to call "the proposition. " Proposition in the West does, infact, mean whatever you at the moment please, --an offer to sell you amine, a cloud-burst, a glass of whiskey, a steamboat. This time it meanta stranger clad in black, and of a clerical deportment which would inthat atmosphere and to a watchful eye be visible for a mile or two. 

"I reckoned yu' hadn't noticed him, " was the Virginian's reply to myejaculation. "Yes. He set me goin' on the subject a while back. I expecthe is another missionary to us pore cow-boys. "

I seemed from a hundred yards to feel the stranger's forcefulpersonality. It was in his walk--I should better say stalk--as hepromenaded along the creek. His hands were behind his back, and therewas an air of waiting, of displeased waiting, in his movement. 

"Yes, he'll be a missionary, " said the Virginian, conclusively; and hetook to singing, or rather to whining, with his head tilted at an absurdangle upward at the sky:

 "'Dar is a big Car'lina nigger, About de size of dis chile or p'raps a little bigger, By de name of Jim Crow. Dat what de white folks call him. If ever I sees him I 'tends for to maul him, Just to let de white folks see Such an animos as he Can't walk around the streets and scandalize me. '"

The lane which was conducting us to the group of ranch buildings nowturned a corner of the meadow, and the Virginian went on with his secondverse:

 "'Great big fool, he hasn't any knowledge. Gosh! how could he, when he's never been to scollege? Neither has I. But I'se come mighty nigh; I peaked through de door as I went by. '"

He was beginning a third stanza, but stopped short; a horse had neighedclose behind us. 

"Trampas, " said he, without turning his head, "we are home. "

"It looks that way. " Some ten yards were between ourselves and Trampas, where he followed. 

"And I'll trouble yu' for my rope yu' took this mawnin' instead o' yourown. "

"I don't know as it's your rope I've got. " Trampas skilfully spoke thisso that a precisely opposite meaning flowed from his words. 

If it was discussion he tried for, he failed. The Virginian's handmoved, and for one thick, flashing moment my thoughts were evidentlyalso the thoughts of Trampas. But the Virginian only held out to Trampasthe rope which he had detached from his saddle. 

"Take your hand off your gun, Trampas. If I had wanted to kill yu'you'd be lying nine days back on the road now. Here's your rope. Did yu'expect I'd not know it? It's the only one in camp the stiffness ain'tall drug out of yet. Or maybe yu' expected me to notice and--not takenotice?"

"I don't spend my time in expectations about you. If--"

The Virginian wheeled his horse across the road. "Yu're talkin' too soonafter reachin' safety, Trampas. I didn't tell yu' to hand me that ropethis mawnin', because I was busy. I ain't foreman now; and I want thatrope. "

Trampas produced a smile as skilful as his voice. "Well, I guess yourhaving mine proves this one is yours. " He rode up and received the coilwhich the Virginian held out, unloosing the disputed one on his saddle. If he had meant to devise a slippery, evasive insult, no small trick incow-land could be more offensive than this taking another man's rope. And it is the small tricks which lead to the big bullets. Trampas puta smooth coating of plausibility over the whole transaction. "Afterthe rope corral we had to make this morning"--his tone was mockexplanatory--"the ropes was all strewed round camp, and in the hustleI--"

"Pardon me, " said a sonorous voice behind us, "do you happen to haveseen Judge Henry?" It was the reverend gentleman in his meadow, cometo the fence. As we turned round to him he spoke on, with much rotundauthority in his eye. "From his answer to my letter, Judge Henryundoubtedly expects me here. I have arrived from Fetterman according tomy plan which I announced to him, to find that he has been absent allday--absent the whole day. "

The Virginian sat sidewise to talk, one long, straight leg supportinghim on one stirrup, the other bent at ease, the boot half lifted fromits dangling stirrup. He made himself the perfection of courtesy. "TheJudge is frequently absent all night, seh. "

"Scarcely to-night, I think. I thought you might know something abouthim. "

"I have been absent myself, seh. "

"Ah! On a vacation, perhaps?" The divine had a ruddy facet. His strongglance was straight and frank and fearless; but his smile too muchreminded me of days bygone, when we used to return to school from theChristmas holidays, and the masters would shake our hands and welcomeus with: "Robert, John, Edward, glad to see you all looking so well!Rested, and ready for hard work, I'm sure!"

That smile does not really please even good, tame little boys; and theVirginian was nearing thirty. 

"It has not been vacation this trip, seh, " said he, settling straight inhis saddle. "There's the Judge driving in now, in time for all questionsyu' have to ask him. "

His horse took a step, but was stopped short. There lay the Virginian'srope on the ground. I had been aware of Trampas's quite proper departureduring the talk; and as he was leaving, I seemed also to be aware ofhis placing the coil across the cantle of its owner's saddle. Had heintended it to fall and have to be picked up? It was another evasivelittle business, and quite successful, if designed to nag the owner ofthe rope. A few hundred yards ahead of us Trampas was now shouting loudcow-boy shouts. Were they to announce his return to those at home, ordid they mean derision? The Virginian leaned, keeping his seat, and, swinging down his arm, caught up the rope, and hung it on his saddlesomewhat carefully. But the hue of rage spread over his face. 

From his fence the divine now spoke, in approbation, but with anotherstrong, cheerless smile. "You pick up that rope as if you were welltrained to it. "

"It's part of our business, seh, and we try to mind it like the rest. "But this, stated in a gentle drawl, did not pierce the missionary'sarmor; his superiority was very thick. 

We now rode on, and I was impressed by the reverend gentleman's robust, dictatorial back as he proceeded by a short cut through the meadowto the ranch. You could take him for nothing but a vigorous, sincere, dominating man, full of the highest purpose. But whatever his creed, Ialready doubted if he were the right one to sow it and make it grow inthese new, wild fields. He seemed more the sort of gardener to keepold walks and vines pruned in their antique rigidity. I admired him forcoming all this way with his clean, short, gray whiskers and his black, well-brushed suit. And he made me think of a powerful locomotive stuckpuffing on a grade. 

Meanwhile, the Virginian rode beside me, so silent in his volcanic wraththat I did not perceive it. The missionary coming on top of Trampashad been more than he could stand. But I did not know, and I spoke withinnocent cheeriness. 

"Is the parson going to save us?" I asked; and I fairly jumped athis voice: "Don't talk so much!" he burst out. I had got the wholeaccumulation!

"Who's been talking?" I in equal anger screeched back. "I'm not tryingto save you. I didn't take your rope. " And having poured this out, Iwhipped up my pony. 

But he spurred his own alongside of me; and glancing at him, I saw thathe was now convulsed with internal mirth. I therefore drew down to awalk, and he straightened into gravity. 

"I'm right obliged to yu', " he laid his hand in its buckskin gauntletupon my horse's mane as he spoke, "for bringing me back out o' mynonsense. I'll be as serene as a bird now--whatever they do. A man, "he stated reflectively, "any full-sized man, ought to own a big lot oftemper. And like all his valuable possessions, he'd ought to keep it andnot lose any. " This was his full apology. "As for salvation, I have gotthis far: somebody, " he swept an arm at the sunset and the mountains, "must have made all that, I know. But I know one more thing I would tellHim to His face: if I can't do nothing long enough and good enough toearn eternal happiness, I can't do nothing long enough and bad enough tobe damned. I reckon He plays a square game with us if He plays at all, and I ain't bothering my haid about other worlds. "

As we reached the stables, he had become the serene bird he promised, and was sentimentally continuing:

 "'De sun is made of mud from de bottom of de river; De moon is made o' fox-fire, as you might disciver; De stars like de ladies' eyes, All round de world dey flies, To give a little light when de moon don't rise. '"

If words were meant to conceal our thoughts, melody is perhaps a stillthicker veil for them. Whatever temper he had lost, he had certainlyfound again; but this all the more fitted him to deal with Trampas, whenthe dealing should begin. I had half a mind to speak to the Judge, onlyit seemed beyond a mere visitor's business. Our missionary was at thismoment himself speaking to Judge Henry at the door of the home ranch. 

"I reckon he's explaining he has been a-waiting. " The Virginian wasthrowing his saddle off as I loosened the cinches of mine. "And theJudge don't look like he was hopelessly distressed. "

I now surveyed the distant parley, and the Judge, from the wagonful ofguests whom he had evidently been driving upon a day's excursion, wavedme a welcome, which I waved back. "He's got Miss Molly Wood there!" Iexclaimed. 

"Yes. " The Virginian was brief about this fact. "I'll look afteh yoursaddle. You go and get acquainted with the company. "

This favor I accepted; it was the means he chose for saying he hoped, after our recent boiling over, that all was now more than right betweenus. So for the while I left him to his horses, and his corrals, and hisTrampas, and his foreman, and his imminent problem. 

XIX. DR. MACBRIDE BEGS PARDON

Judge and Mrs. Henry, Molly Wood, and two strangers, a lady anda gentleman, were the party which had been driving in the largethree-seated wagon. They had seemed a merry party. But as I came withinhearing of their talk, it was a fragment of the minister's sonoritywhich reached me first: "--more opportunity for them to have the benefitof hearing frequent sermons, " was the sentence I heard him bring tocompletion. 

"Yes, to be sure, sir. " Judge Henry gave me (it almost seemed)additional warmth of welcome for arriving to break up the presentdiscourse. "Let me introduce you to the Rev. Dr. Alexander MacBride. Doctor, another guest we have been hoping for about this time, " was myhost's cordial explanation to him of me. There remained the gentlemanwith his wife from New York, and to these I made my final bows. But Ihad not broken up the discourse. 

"We may be said to have met already. " Dr. MacBride had fixed upon me hisfull, mastering eye; and it occurred to me that if they had policemenin heaven, he would be at least a centurion in the force. But he did notmean to be unpleasant; it was only that in a mind full of matters lessworldly, pleasure was left out. "I observed your friend was a skilfulhorseman, " he continued. "I was saying to Judge Henry that I could wishsuch skilful horsemen might ride to a church upon the Sabbath. A church, that is, of right doctrine, where they would have opportunity to hearfrequent sermons. "

"Yes, " said Judge Henry, "yes. It would be a good thing. "

Mrs. Henry, with some murmur about the kitchen, here went into thehouse. 

"I was informed, " Dr. MacBride held the rest of us, "before undertakingmy journey that I should find a desolate and mainly godless country. Butnobody gave me to understand that from Medicine Bow I was to drive threehundred miles and pass no church of any faith. "

The Judge explained that there had been a few a long way to the rightand left of him. "Still, " he conceded, "you are quite right. But don'tforget that this is the newest part of a new world. "

"Judge, " said his wife, coming to the door, "how can you keep themstanding in the dust with your talking?"

This most efficiently did break up the discourse. As our little party, with the smiles and the polite holdings back of new acquaintanceship, moved into the house, the Judge detained me behind all of them longenough to whisper dolorously, "He's going to stay a whole week. "

I had hopes that he would not stay a whole week when I presently learnedof the crowded arrangements which our hosts, with many hospitableapologies, disclosed to us. They were delighted to have us, but theyhadn't foreseen that we should all be simultaneous. The foreman's househad been prepared for two of us, and did we mind? The two of us wereDr. MacBride and myself; and I expected him to mind. But I wronged himgrossly. It would be much better, he assured Mrs. Henry, than straw in astable, which he had tried several times, and was quite ready for. So Isaw that though he kept his vigorous body clean when he could, he carednothing for it in the face of his mission. How the foreman and his wiferelished being turned out during a week for a missionary and myselfwas not my concern, although while he and I made ready for supper overthere, it struck me as hard on them. The room with its two cots andfurniture was as nice as possible; and we closed the door upon theadjoining room, which, however, seemed also untenanted. 

Mrs. Henry gave us a meal so good that I have remembered it, and herhusband the Judge strove his best that we should eat it in merriment. Hepoured out his anecdotes like wine, and we should have quickly warmedto them; but Dr. MacBride sat among us, giving occasional heavy ha-ha's, which produced, as Miss Molly Wood whispered to me, a "dreadfullycavernous effect. " Was it his sermon, we wondered, that he was thinkingover? I told her of the copious sheaf of them I had seen him pull fromhis wallet over at the foreman's. "Goodness!" said she. "Then are we tohear one every evening?" This I doubted; he had probably been pickingone out suitable for the occasion. "Putting his best foot foremost, " washer comment; "I suppose they have best feet, like the rest of us. " Thenshe grew delightfully sharp. "Do you know, when I first heard him Ithought his voice was hearty. But if you listen, you'll find it'smerely militant. He never really meets you with it. He's off on his hillwatching the battle-field the whole time. "

"He will find a hardened pagan here. "

"Judge Henry?"

"Oh, no! The wild man you're taming brought you Kenilworth safe back. "

She was smooth. "Oh, as for taming him! But don't you find himintelligent?"

Suddenly I somehow knew that she didn't want to tame him. But what didshe want to do? The thought of her had made him blush this afternoon. Nothought of him made her blush this evening. 

A great laugh from the rest of the company made me aware that the Judgehad consummated his tale of the "Sole Survivor. "

"And so, " he finished, "they all went off as mad as hops becauseit hadn't been a massacre. " Mr. And Mrs. Ogden--they were the NewYorkers-gave this story much applause, and Dr. MacBride half a minutelater laid his "ha-ha, " like a heavy stone, upon the gayety. 

"I'll never be able to stand seven sermons, " said Miss Wood to me. 

"Talking of massacres, "--I now hastened to address the already saddenedtable, --"I have recently escaped one myself. "

The Judge had come to an end of his powers. "Oh, tell us!" he implored. 

"Seriously, sir, I think we grazed pretty wet tragedy but yourextraordinary man brought us out into comedy safe and dry. "

This gave me their attention; and, from that afternoon in Dakota when Ihad first stepped aboard the caboose, I told them the whole tale of myexperience: how I grew immediately aware that all was not right, by theVirginian's kicking the cook off the train; how, as we journeyed, thedark bubble of mutiny swelled hourly beneath my eyes; and how, when itwas threatening I know not what explosion, the Virginian had pricked itwith humor, so that it burst in nothing but harmless laughter. 

Their eyes followed my narrative: the New Yorkers, because such eventsdo not happen upon the shores of the Hudson; Mrs. Henry, because she wasmy hostess; Miss Wood followed for whatever her reasons were--I couldn'tsee her eyes; rather, I FELT her listening intently to the deeds anddangers of the man she didn't care to tame. But it was the eyes of theJudge and the missionary which I saw riveted upon me indeed until theend; and they forthwith made plain their quite dissimilar opinions. 

Judge Henry struck the table lightly with his fist. "I knew it!" And heleaned back in his chair with a face of contentment. He had trusted hisman, and his man had proved worthy. 

"Pardon me. " Dr. MacBride had a manner of saying "pardon me, " whichrendered forgiveness well-nigh impossible. 

The Judge waited for him. 

"Am I to understand that these--a--cow-boys attempted to mutiny, andwere discouraged in this attempt upon finding themselves less skilful atlying than the man they had plotted to depose?"

I began an answer. "It was other qualities, sir, that happened to berevealed and asserted by what you call his lying that--"

"And what am I to call it, if it is not lying? A competition in deceitin which, I admit, he out did them. 

"It's their way to--"

"Pardon me. Their way to lie? They bow down to the greatest in this?"

"Oh, " said Miss Wood in my ear, "give him up. "

The Judge took a turn. "We-ell, Doctor--" He seemed to stick here. 

Mr. Ogden handsomely assisted him. "You've said the word yourself, Doctor. It's the competition, don't you see? The trial of strength by nomatter what test. "

"Yes, " said Miss Wood, unexpectedly. "And it wasn't that GeorgeWashington couldn't tell a lie. He just wouldn't. I'm sure if he'dundertaken to he'd have told a much better one than Cornwall's. "

"Ha-ha, madam! You draw an ingenious subtlety from your books. "

"It's all plain to me, " Ogden pursued. "The men were morose. Thisforeman was in the minority. He cajoled them into a bout of tallstories, and told the tallest himself. And when they found they hadswallowed it whole--well, it would certainly take the starch out of me, "he concluded. "I couldn't be a serious mutineer after that. "

Dr. MacBride now sounded his strongest bass. "Pardon me. I cannot acceptsuch a view, sir. There is a levity abroad in our land which I mustdeplore. No matter how leniently you may try to put it, in the end wehave the spectacle of a struggle between men where lying decides thesurvival of the fittest. Better, far better, if it was to come, thatthey had shot honest bullets. There are worse evils than war. "

The Doctor's eye glared righteously about him. None of us, I think, trembled; or, if we did, it was with emotions other than fear. Mrs. Henry at once introduced the subject of trout-fishing, and thus happilyremoved us from the edge of whatever sort of precipice we seemed to haveapproached; for Dr. MacBride had brought his rod. He dilated upon thissport with fervor, and we assured him that the streams upon the westslope of the Bow Leg Mountains would afford him plenty of it. Thus weended our meal in carefully preserved amity. 

XX. THE JUDGE IGNORES PARTICULARS

"Do you often have these visitations?" Ogden inquired of Judge Henry. Our host was giving us whiskey in his office, and Dr. MacBride, whilewe smoked apart from the ladies, had repaired to his quarters in theforeman's house previous to the service which he was shortly to hold. 

The Judge laughed. "They come now and then through the year. I like thebishop to come. And the men always like it. But I fear our friend willscarcely please them so well. "

"You don't mean they'll--"

"Oh, no. They'll keep quiet. The fact is, they have a good deal bettermanners than he has, if he only knew it. They'll be able to bear him. But as for any good he'll do--"

"I doubt if he knows a word of science, " said I, musing about theDoctor. 

"Science! He doesn't know what Christianity is yet. I've entertainedmany guests, but none--The whole secret, " broke off Judge Henry, "liesin the way you treat people. As soon as you treat men as your brothers, they are ready to acknowledge you--if you deserve it--as their superior. That's the whole bottom of Christianity, and that's what our missionarywill never know. "

There was a somewhat heavy knock at the office door, and I think we allfeared it was Dr. MacBride. But when the Judge opened, the Virginian wasstanding there in the darkness. 

"So!" The Judge opened the door wide. He was very hearty to the man hehad trusted. "You're back at last. "

"I came to repawt. "

While they shook hands, Ogden nudged me. "That the fellow?" I nodded. "Fellow who kicked the cook off the train?" I again nodded, and helooked at the Virginian, his eye and his stature. 

Judge Henry, properly democratic, now introduced him to Ogden. 

The New Yorker also meant to be properly democratic. "You're the manI've been hearing such a lot about. "

But familiarity is not equality. "Then I expect yu' have the advantageof me, seh, " said the Virginian, very politely. "Shall I repawtto-morro'?" His grave eyes were on the Judge again. Of me he had takenno notice; he had come as an employee to see his employer. 

"Yes, yes; I'll want to hear about the cattle to-morrow. But step insidea moment now. There's a matter--" The Virginian stepped inside, and tookoff his hat. "Sit down. You had trouble--I've heard something about it, "the Judge went on. 

The Virginian sat down, grave and graceful. But he held the brim ofhis hat all the while. He looked at Ogden and me, and then back at hisemployer. There was reluctance in his eye. I wondered if his employercould be going to make him tell his own exploits in the presence ofus outsiders; and there came into my memory the Bengal tiger at atrained-animal show I had once seen. 

"You had some trouble, " repeated the Judge. 

"Well, there was a time when they maybe wanted to have notions. They'regood boys. " And he smiled a very little. 

Contentment increased in the Judge's face. "Trampas a good boy too?"

But this time the Bengal tiger did not smile. He sat with his eyefastened on his employer. 

The Judge passed rather quickly on to his next point. "You've broughtthem all back, though, I understand, safe and sound, without a scratch?"

The Virginian looked down at his hat, then up again at the Judge, mildly. "I had to part with my cook. "

There was no use; Ogden and myself exploded. Even upon the embarrassedVirginian a large grin slowly forced itself. "I guess yu' know aboutit, " he murmured. And he looked at me with a sort of reproach. He knewit was I who had told tales out of school. 

"I only want to say, " said Ogden, conciliatingly, "that I know Icouldn't have handled those men. "

The Virginian relented. "Yu' never tried, seh. "

The Judge had remained serious; but he showed himself plainly more andmore contented. "Quite right, " he said. "You had to part with yourcook. When I put a man in charge, I put him in charge. I don't makeparticulars my business. They're to be always his. Do you understand?"

"Thank yu'. " The Virginian understood that his employer was praising hismanagement of the expedition. But I don't think he at all discerned--asI did presently--that his employer had just been putting him to afurther test, had laid before him the temptation of complaining of afellow-workman and blowing his own trumpet, and was delighted with hisreticence. He made a movement to rise. 

"I haven't finished, " said the Judge. "I was coming to the matter. There's one particular--since I do happen to have been told. I fancyTrampas has learned something he didn't expect. "

This time the Virginian evidently did not understand, any more than Idid. One hand played with his hat, mechanically turning it round. 

The Judge explained. "I mean about Roberts. "

A pulse of triumph shot over the Southerner's face, turning it savagefor that fleeting instant. He understood now, and was unable to suppressthis much answer. But he was silent. 

"You see, " the Judge explained to me, "I was obliged to let Roberts, myold foreman, go last week. His wife could not have stood another winterhere, and a good position was offered to him near Los Angeles. "

I did see. I saw a number of things. I saw why the foreman's house hadbeen empty to receive Dr. MacBride and me. And I saw that the Judgehad been very clever indeed. For I had abstained from telling any talesabout the present feeling between Trampas and the Virginian; but he haddivined it. Well enough for him to say that "particulars" were somethinghe let alone; he evidently kept a deep eye on the undercurrents at hisranch. He knew that in Roberts, Trampas had lost a powerful friend. Andthis was what I most saw, this final fact, that Trampas had no longerany intervening shield. He and the Virginian stood indeed man to man. 

"And so, " the Judge continued speaking to me, "here I am at a veryinconvenient time without a foreman. Unless, " I caught the twinkle inhis eyes before he turned to the Virginian, "unless you're willing totake the position yourself. Will you?"

I saw the Southerner's hand grip his hat as he was turning it round. Heheld it still now, and his other hand found it and gradually crumpledthe soft crown in. It meant everything to him: recognition, higherstation, better fortune, a separate house of his own, and--perhaps--onestep nearer to the woman he wanted. I don't know what words he mighthave said to the Judge had they been alone, but the Judge had chosento do it in our presence, the whole thing from beginning to end. TheVirginian sat with the damp coming out on his forehead, and his eyesdropped from his employer's. 

"Thank yu', " was what he managed at last to say. 

"Well, now, I'm greatly relieved!" exclaimed the Judge, rising at once. He spoke with haste, and lightly. "That's excellent. I was in some thingof a hole, " he said to Ogden and me; "and this gives me one thing lessto think of. Saves me a lot of particulars, " he jocosely added to theVirginian, who was now also standing up. "Begin right off. Leave thebunk house. The gentlemen won't mind your sleeping in your own house. "

Thus he dismissed his new foreman gayly. But the new foreman, when hegot outside, turned back for one gruff word, --"I'll try to please yu'. "That was all. He was gone in the darkness. But there was light enoughfor me, looking after him, to see him lay his hand on a shoulder-highgate and vault it as if he had been the wind. Sounds of cheering cameto us a few moments later from the bunk house. Evidently he had "begunright away, " as the Judge had directed. He had told his fortune to hisbrother cow-punchers, and this was their answer. 

"I wonder if Trampas is shouting too?" inquired Ogden. 

"Hm!" said the Judge. "That is one of the particulars I wash my handsof. "

I knew that he entirely meant it. I knew, once his decision taken ofappointing the Virginian his lieutenant for good and all, that, like awise commander-in-chief, he would trust his lieutenant to take care ofhis own business. 

"Well, " Ogden pursued with interest, "haven't you landed Trampas plumpat his mercy?"

The phrase tickled the Judge. "That is where I've landed him!" hedeclared. "And here is Dr. MacBride. "

XXI. IN A STATE OF SIN

Thunder sat imminent upon the missionary's brow. Many were to be at hismercy soon. But for us he had sunshine still. "I am truly sorry to beturning you upside down, " he said importantly. "But it seems the bestplace for my service. " He spoke of the tables pushed back and the chairsgathered in the hall, where the storm would presently break upon thecongregation. "Eight-thirty?" he inquired. 

This was the hour appointed, and it was only twenty minutes off. Wethrew the unsmoked fractions of our cigars away, and returned to offerour services to the ladies. This amused the ladies. They had donewithout us. All was ready in the hall. 

"We got the cook to help us, " Mrs. Ogden told me, "so as not todisturb your cigars. In spite of the cow-boys, I still recognize my owncountry. "

"In the cook?" I rather densely asked. 

"Oh, no! I don't have a Chinaman. It's in the length of after-dinnercigars. "

"Had you been smoking, " I returned, "you would have found them shortthis evening. "

"You make it worse, " said the lady; "we have had nothing but Dr. MacBride. "

"We'll share him with you now, " I exclaimed. 

"Has he announced his text? I've got one for him, " said Molly Wood, joining us. She stood on tiptoe and spoke it comically in our ears. "'Isaid in my haste, All men are liars. '" This made us merry as we stoodamong the chairs in the congested hall. 

I left the ladies, and sought the bunk house. I had heard the cheers, but I was curious also to see the men, and how they were taking it. There was but little for the eye. There was much noise in the room. Theywere getting ready to come to church, --brushing their hair, shaving, andmaking themselves clean, amid talk occasionally profane and continuouslydiverting. 

"Well, I'm a Christian, anyway, " one declared. 

"I'm a Mormon, I guess, " said another. 

"I belong to the Knights of Pythias, " said a third. 

"I'm a Mohammedist, " said a fourth; "I hope I ain't goin' to hearnothin' to shock me. "

And they went on with their joking. But Trampas was out of the joking. He lay on his bed reading a newspaper, and took no pains to lookpleasant. My eyes were considering him when the blithe Scipio came in. 

"Don't look so bashful, " said he. "There's only us girls here. "

He had been helping the Virginian move his belongings from the bunkhouse over to the foreman's cabin. He himself was to occupy theVirginian's old bed here. "And I hope sleepin' in it will bring me someof his luck, " said Scipio. "Yu'd ought to've seen us when he told us inhis quiet way. Well, " Scipio sighed a little, "it must feel good to haveyour friends glad about you. "

"Especially Trampas, " said I. "The Judge knows about that, " I added. 

"Knows, does he? What's he say?" Scipio drew me quickly out of the bunkhouse. 

"Says it's no business of his. "

"Said nothing but that?" Scipio's curiosity seemed strangely intense. "Made no suggestion? Not a thing?"

"Not a thing. Said he didn't want to know and didn't care. "

"How did he happen to hear about it?" snapped Scipio. "You told him!"he immediately guessed. "He never would. " And Scipio jerked his thumbat the Virginian, who appeared for a moment in the lighted window of thenew quarters he was arranging. "He never would tell, " Scipio repeated. "And so the Judge never made a suggestion to him, " he muttered, noddingin the darkness. "So it's just his own notion. Just like him, too, cometo think of it. Only I didn't expect--well, I guess he could surprise meany day he tried. "

"You're surprising me now, " I said. "What's it all about?"

"Oh, him and Trampas. "

"What? Nothing surely happened yet?" I was as curious as Scipio hadbeen. 

"No, not yet. But there will. "

"Great Heavens, man! when?"

"Just as soon as Trampas makes the first move, " Scipio replied easily. 

I became dignified. Scipio had evidently been told things by theVirginian. 

"Yes, I up and asked him plumb out, " Scipio answered. "I was liftin' histrunk in at the door, and I couldn't stand it no longer, and I asked himplumb out. 'Yu've sure got Trampas where yu' want him. ' That's whatI said. And he up and answered and told me. So I know. " At this pointScipio stopped; I was not to know. 

"I had no idea, " I said, "that your system held so much meanness. "

"Oh, it ain't meanness!" And he laughed ecstatically. 

"What do you call it, then?"

"He'd call it discretion, " said Scipio. Then he became serious. "It'stoo blamed grand to tell yu'. I'll leave yu' to see it happen. Keeparound, that's all. Keep around. I pretty near wish I didn't know itmyself. "

What with my feelings at Scipio's discretion, and my human curiosity, Iwas not in that mood which best profits from a sermon. Yet even thoughmy expectations had been cruelly left quivering in mid air, I was notsure how much I really wanted to "keep around. " You will thereforeunderstand how Dr. MacBride was able to make a prayer and to readScripture without my being conscious of a word that he had uttered. Itwas when I saw him opening the manuscript of his sermon that I suddenlyremembered I was sitting, so to speak, in church, and began once more tothink of the preacher and his congregation. Our chairs were in thefront line, of course; but, being next the wall, I could easily seethe cow-boys behind me. They were perfectly decorous. If Mrs. Ogden hadlooked for pistols, daredevil attitudes, and so forth, she must havebeen greatly disappointed. Except for their weather-beaten cheeks andeyes, they were simply American young men with mustaches and without, and might have been sitting, say, in Danbury, Connecticut. Even Trampasmerged quietly with the general placidity. The Virginian did not, to besure, look like Danbury, and his frame and his features showed outof the mass; but his eyes were upon Dr. MacBride with a creamlikepropriety. 

Our missionary did not choose Miss Wood's text. He made his selectionfrom another of the Psalms; and when it came, I did not dare to look atanybody; I was much nearer unseemly conduct than the cow-boys. Dr. MacBride gave us his text sonorously, "'They are altogether become filthy;There is none of them that doeth good, no, not one. '" His eye showed usplainly that present company was not excepted from this. He repeated thetext once more, then, launching upon his discourse, gave none of us aray of hope. 

I had heard it all often before; but preached to cow-boys it took ona new glare of untimeliness, of grotesque obsoleteness--as if some oneshould say, "Let me persuade you to admire woman, " and forthwith holdout her bleached bones to you. The cow-boys were told that not only theycould do no good, but that if they did contrive to, it would not helpthem. Nay, more: not only honest deeds availed them nothing, but even ifthey accepted this especial creed which was being explained to them asnecessary for salvation, still it might not save them. Their sin wasindeed the cause of their damnation, yet, keeping from sin, they mightnevertheless be lost. It had all been settled for them not only beforethey were born, but before Adam was shaped. Having told them this, heinvited them to glorify the Creator of the scheme. Even if damned, theymust praise the person who had made them expressly for damnation. Thatis what I heard him prove by logic to these cow-boys. Stone upon stonehe built the black cellar of his theology, leaving out its beautifulpark and the sunshine of its garden. He did not tell them the splendorof its past, the noble fortress for good that it had been, how its tonichad strengthened generations of their fathers. No; wrath he spoke of, and never once of love. It was the bishop's way, I knew well, to holdcow-boys by homely talk of their special hardships and temptations. And when they fell he spoke to them of forgiveness and brought themencouragement. But Dr. MacBride never thought once of the lives ofthese waifs. Like himself, like all mankind, they were invisible dots increation; like him, they were to feel as nothing, to be swept up in thepotent heat of his faith. So he thrust out to them none of the sweet butall the bitter of his creed, naked and stern as iron. Dogma was his allin all, and poor humanity was nothing but flesh for its canyons. 

Thus to kill what chance he had for being of use seemed to me moredeplorable than it did evidently to them. Their attention merelywandered. Three hundred years ago they would have been frightened; butnot in this electric day. I saw Scipio stifling a smile when it came tothe doctrine of original sin. "We know of its truth, " said Dr. MacBride, "from the severe troubles and distresses to which infants are liable, and from death passing upon them before they are capable of sinning. "Yet I knew he was a good man; and I also knew that if a missionary is tobe tactless, he might almost as well be bad. 

I said their attention wandered, but I forgot the Virginian. At firsthis attitude might have been mere propriety. One can look respectfullyat a preacher and be internally breaking all the commandments. But evenwith the text I saw real attention light in the Virginian's eye. Andkeeping track of the concentration that grew on him with each minutemade the sermon short for me. He missed nothing. Before the end his gazeat the preacher had become swerveless. Was he convert or critic? Convertwas incredible. Thus was an hour passed before I had thought of time. 

When it was over we took it variously. The preacher was genial and spokeof having now broken ground for the lessons that he hoped to instil. He discoursed for a while about trout-fishing and about the rumoreduneasiness of the Indians northward where he was going. It was plainthat his personal safety never gave him a thought. He soon bade us goodnight. The Ogdens shrugged their shoulders and were amused. That wastheir way of taking it. Dr. MacBride sat too heavily on the Judge'sshoulders for him to shrug them. As a leading citizen in the Territoryhe kept open house for all comers. Policy and good nature made him bidwelcome a wide variety of travellers. The cow-boy out of employmentfound bed and a meal for himself and his horse, and missionaries hadbefore now been well received at Sunk Creek Ranch. 

"I suppose I'll have to take him fishing, " said the Judge, ruefully. 

"Yes, my dear, " said his wife, "you will. And I shall have to make histea for six days. "

"Otherwise, " Ogden suggested, "it might be reported that you wereenemies of religion. "

"That's about it, " said the Judge. "I can get on with most people. Butelephants depress me. "

So we named the Doctor "Jumbo, " and I departed to my quarters. 

At the bunk house, the comments were similar but more highly salted. Themen were going to bed. In spite of their outward decorum at the service, they had not liked to be told that they were "altogether become filthy. "It was easy to call names; they could do that themselves. And theyappealed to me, several speaking at once, like a concerted piece atthe opera: "Say, do you believe babies go to hell?"--"Ah, of course hedon't. "--"There ain't no hereafter, anyway. "--"Ain't there?"--"Whotold yu'?"--"Same man as told the preacher we were all a sifted set ofsons-of-guns. "--"Well, I'm going to stay a Mormon. "--"Well, I'm goingto quit fleeing from temptation. "--"that's so! Better get it in theneck after a good time than a poor one. " And so forth. Their wit was notextreme, yet I should like Dr. MacBride to have heard it. One fellow puthis natural soul pretty well into words, "If I happened to learn whatthey had predestinated me to do, I'd do the other thing, just to show'em!"

And Trampas? And the Virginian? They were out of it. The Virginian hadgone straight to his new abode. Trampas lay in his bed, not asleep, andsullen as ever. 

"He ain't got religion this trip, " said Scipio to me. 

"Did his new foreman get it?" I asked. 

"Huh! It would spoil him. You keep around that's all. Keep around. "

Scipio was not to be probed; and I went, still baffled, to my repose. 

No light burned in the cabin as I approached its door. 

The Virginian's room was quiet and dark; and that Dr. MacBride slumberedwas plainly audible to me, even before I entered. Go fishing with him!I thought, as I undressed. And I selfishly decided that the Judge mighthave this privilege entirely to himself. Sleep came to me fairlysoon, in spite of the Doctor. I was wakened from it by my bed's beingjolted--not a pleasant thing that night. I must have started. And itwas the quiet voice of the Virginian that told me he was sorry to haveaccidentally disturbed me. This disturbed me a good deal more. Buthis steps did not go to the bunk house, as my sensational mind hadsuggested. He was not wearing much, and in the dimness he seemed tallerthan common. I next made out that he was bending over Dr. Mac Bride. Thedivine at last sprang upright. 

"I am armed, " he said. "Take care. Who are you?"

"You can lay down your gun, seh. I feel like my spirit was going to bearwitness. I feel like I might get an enlightening. "

He was using some of the missionary's own language. The baffling I hadbeen treated to by Scipio melted to nothing in this. Did living menpetrify, I should have changed to mineral between the sheets. The Doctorgot out of bed, lighted his lamp, and found a book; and the two retiredinto the Virginian's room, where I could hear the exhortations as Ilay amazed. In time the Doctor returned, blew out his lamp, and settledhimself. I had been very much awake, but was nearly gone to sleep again, when the door creaked and the Virginian stood by the Doctor's side. 

"Are you awake, seh?"

"What? What's that? What is it?"

"Excuse me, seh. The enemy is winning on me. I'm feeling less inwardopposition to sin. "

The lamp was lighted, and I listened to some further exhortations. They must have taken half an hour. When the Doctor was in bed again, Ithought that I heard him sigh. This upset my composure in the dark;but I lay face downward in the pillow, and the Doctor was soon againsnoring. I envied him for a while his faculty of easy sleep. But I musthave dropped off myself; for it was the lamp in my eyes that now wakedme as he came back for the third time from the Virginian's room. Beforeblowing the light out he looked at his watch, and thereupon I inquiredthe hour of him. 

"Three, " said he. 

I could not sleep any more now, and I lay watching the darkness. 

"I'm afeared to be alone!" said the Virginian's voice presently in thenext room. "I'm afeared. " There was a short pause, and then he shoutedvery loud, "I'm losin' my desire afteh the sincere milk of the Word!"

"What? What's that? What?" The Doctor's cot gave a great crack as hestarted up listening, and I put my face deep in the pillow. 

"I'm afeared! I'm afeared! Sin has quit being bitter in my belly. "

"Courage, my good man. " The Doctor was out of bed with his lamp again, and the door shut behind him. Between them they made it long this time. I saw the window become gray; then the corners of the furniture growvisible; and outside, the dry chorus of the blackbirds began to fill thedawn. To these the sounds of chickens and impatient hoofs in the stablewere added, and some cow wandered by loudly calling for her calf. Next, some one whistling passed near and grew distant. But although the coldhue that I lay staring at through the window warmed and changed, theDoctor continued working hard over his patient in the next room. Only aword here and there was distinct; but it was plain from the Virginian'sfewer remarks that the sin in his belly was alarming him less. Yes, theymade this time long. But it proved, indeed, the last one. And thoughsome sort of catastrophe was bound to fall upon us, it was myself whoprecipitated the thing that did happen. 

Day was wholly come. I looked at my own watch, and it was six. I hadbeen about seven hours in my bed, and the Doctor had been about sevenhours out of his. The door opened, and he came in with his book andlamp. He seemed to be shivering a little, and I saw him cast a longingeye at his couch. But the Virginian followed him even as he blew outthe now quite superfluous light. They made a noticeable couple in theirunderclothes: the Virginian with his lean racehorse shanks running toa point at his ankle, and the Doctor with his stomach and his fatsedentary calves. 

"You'll be going to breakfast and the ladies, seh, pretty soon, " saidthe Virginian, with a chastened voice. "But I'll worry through the daysomehow without yu'. And to-night you can turn your wolf loose on meagain. "

Once more it was no use. My face was deep in the pillow, but I madesounds as of a hen who has laid an egg. It broke on the Doctor with atotal instantaneous smash, quite like an ego. 

He tried to speak calmly. "This is a disgrace. An infamous disgrace. Never in my life have I--" Words forsook him, and his face grew redder. "Never in my life--" He stopped again, because, at the sight of himbeing dignified in his red drawers, I was making the noise of a dozenhens. It was suddenly too much for the Virginian. He hastened into hisroom, and there sank on the floor with his head in his hands. The Doctorimmediately slammed the door upon him, and this rendered me easily fitfor a lunatic asylum. I cried into my pillow, and wondered if the Doctorwould come and kill me. But he took no notice of me whatever. I couldhear the Virginian's convulsions through the door, and also the Doctorfuriously making his toilet within three feet of my head; and I layquite still with my face the other way, for I was really afraid to lookat him. When I heard him walk to the door in his boots, I ventured topeep; and there he was, going out with his bag in his hand. As I stillcontinued to lie, weak and sore, and with a mind that had ceased anoperation, the Virginian's door opened. He was clean and dressed anddecent, but the devil still sported in his eye. I have never seen acreature more irresistibly handsome. 

Then my mind worked again. "You've gone and done it, " said I. "He'spacked his valise. He'll not sleep here. "

The Virginian looked quickly out of the door. "Why, he's leavin' us!" heexclaimed. "Drivin' away right now in his little old buggy!" He turnedto me, and our eyes met solemnly over this large fact. I thought thatI perceived the faintest tincture of dismay in the features of JudgeHenry's new, responsible, trusty foreman. This was the first act of hisadministration. Once again he looked out at the departing missionary. "Well, " he vindictively stated, "I cert'nly ain't goin' to run aftehhim. " And he looked at me again. 

"Do you suppose the Judge knows?" I inquired. 

He shook his head. "The windo' shades is all down still oveh yondeh. "He paused. "I don't care, " he stated, quite as if he had been ten yearsold. Then he grinned guiltily. "I was mighty respectful to him allnight. "

"Oh, yes, respectful! Especially when you invited him to turn his wolfloose. "

The Virginian gave a joyous gulp. He now came and sat down on the edgeof my bed. "I spoke awful good English to him most of the time, " saidhe. "I can, yu' know, when I cinch my attention tight on to it. Yes, I cert'nly spoke a lot o' good English. I didn't understand some of itmyself!"

He was now growing frankly pleased with his exploit. He had builded somuch better than he knew. He got up and looked out across the crystalworld of light. "The Doctor is at one-mile crossing, " he said. "He'llget breakfast at the N-lazy-Y. " Then he returned and sat again on mybed, and began to give me his real heart. "I never set up for beingbetter than others. Not even to myself. My thoughts ain't apt to travelaround making comparisons. And I shouldn't wonder if my memory tookas much notice of the meannesses I have done as of--as of the otheractions. But to have to sit like a dumb lamb and let a stranger tell yu'for an hour that yu're a hawg and a swine, just after you have acted ina way which them that know the facts would call pretty near white--"

"Trampas!" I could not help exclaiming. 

For there are moments of insight when a guess amounts to knowledge. 

"Has Scipio told--"

"No. Not a word. He wouldn't tell me. "

"Well, yu' see, I arrived home hyeh this evenin' with several thoughtsworkin' and stirrin' inside me. And not one o' them thoughts was whatyu'd call Christian. I ain't the least little bit ashamed of 'em. I'm ahuman. But after the Judge--well, yu' heard him. And so when I went awayfrom that talk and saw how positions was changed--"

A step outside stopped him short. Nothing more could be read in hisface, for there was Trampas himself in the open door. 

"Good morning, " said Trampas, not looking at us. He spoke with the samecool sullenness of yesterday. 

We returned his greeting. 

"I believe I'm late in congratulating you on your promotion, " said he. 

The Virginian consulted his watch. "It's only half afteh six, " hereturned. 

Trampas's sullenness deepened. "Any man is to be congratulated ongetting a rise, I expect. "

This time the Virginian let him have it. "Cert'nly. And I ain'tforgetting how much I owe mine to you. "

Trampas would have liked to let himself go. "I've not come here for anyforgiveness, " he sneered. 

"When did yu' feel yu' needed any?" The Virginian was impregnable. 

Trampas seemed to feel how little he was going this way. He came outstraight now. "Oh, I haven't any Judge behind me, I know. I heard you'dbe paying the boys this morning, and I've come for my time. "

"You're thinking of leaving us?" asked the new foreman. "What's yourdissatisfaction?"

"Oh, I'm not needing anybody back of me. I'll get along by myself. " Itwas thus he revealed his expectation of being dismissed by his enemy. 

This would have knocked any meditated generosity out of my heart. ButI was not the Virginian. He shifted his legs, leaned back a little, andlaughed. "Go back to your job, Trampas, if that's all your complaint. You're right about me being in luck. But maybe there's two of us inluck. "

It was this that Scipio had preferred me to see with my own eyes. Thefight was between man and man no longer. The case could not be one offorgiveness; but the Virginian would not use his official position tocrush his subordinate. 

Trampas departed with something muttered that I did not hear, and theVirginian closed intimate conversation by saying, "You'll be late forbreakfast. " With that he also took himself away. 

The ladies were inclined to be scandalized, but not the Judge. When mywhole story was done, he brought his fist down on the table, and notlightly this time. "I'd make him lieutenant general if the ranch offeredthat position!" he declared. 

Miss Molly Wood said nothing at the time. But in the afternoon, by herwish, she went fishing, with the Virginian deputed to escort her. Irode with them, for a while. I was not going to continue a third in thatparty; the Virginian was too becomingly dressed, and I saw KENILWORTHpeeping out of his pocket. I meant to be fishing by myself when thatvolume was returned. 

But Miss Wood talked with skilful openness as we rode. "I've heard allabout you and Dr. MacBride, " she said. "How could you do it, when theJudge places such confidence in you?"

He looked pleased. "I reckon, " he said, "I couldn't be so good if Iwasn't bad onced in a while. "

"Why, there's a skunk, " said I, noticing the pretty little animaltrotting in front of us at the edge of the thickets. 

"Oh, where is it? Don't let me see it!" screamed Molly. And at thisdeeply feminine remark, the Virginian looked at her with such a smilethat, had I been a woman, it would have made me his to do what hepleased with on the spot. 

Upon the lady, however, it seemed to make less impression. Or rather, Ihad better say, whatever were her feelings, she very naturally made nodisplay of them, and contrived not to be aware of that expression whichhad passed over the Virginian's face. 

It was later that these few words reached me while I was fishing alone:"Have you anything different to tell me yet?" I heard him say. 

"Yes; I have. " She spoke in accents light and well intrenched. "I wishto say that I have never liked any man better than you. But I expectto!"

He must have drawn small comfort from such an answer as that. But helaughed out indomitably: "Don't yu' go betting on any such expectation!"And then their words ceased to be distinct, and it was only their twovoices that I heard wandering among the windings of the stream. 

XXII. "WHAT IS A RUSTLER?"

We all know what birds of a feather do. And it may be safely surmisedthat if a bird of any particular feather has been for a long whileunable to see other birds of its kind, it will flock with them all themore assiduously when they happen to alight in its vicinity. 

Now the Ogdens were birds of Molly's feather. They wore Eastern, and notWestern, plumage, and their song was a different song from that whichthe Bear Creek birds sang. To be sure, the piping of little GeorgeTaylor was full of hopeful interest; and many other strains, bothstriking and melodious, were lifted in Cattle Land, and had givenpleasure to Molly's ear. But although Indians, and bears, and mavericks, make worthy themes for song, these are not the only songs in the world. Therefore the Eastern warblings of the Ogdens sounded doubly sweet toMolly Wood. Such words as Newport, Bar Harbor, and Tiffany's thrilledher exceedingly. It made no difference that she herself had never beento Newport or Bar Harbor, and had visited Tiffany's more often to admirethan to purchase. On the contrary, this rather added a dazzle to themusic of the Ogdens. And Molly, whose Eastern song had been silent inthis strange land, began to chirp it again during the visit that shemade at the Sunk Creek Ranch. 

Thus the Virginian's cause by no means prospered at this time. Hisforces were scattered, while Molly's were concentrated. The girl wasnot at that point where absence makes the heart grow fonder. While theVirginian was trundling his long, responsible miles in the caboose, delivering the cattle at Chicago, vanquishing Trampas along theYellowstone, she had regained herself. 

Thus it was that she could tell him so easily during those first hoursthat they were alone after his return, "I expect to like another manbetter than you. "

Absence had recruited her. And then the Ogdens had reenforced her. Theybrought the East back powerfully to her memory, and her thoughts filledwith it. They did not dream that they were assisting in any battle. Noone ever had more unconscious allies than did Molly at that time. Butshe used them consciously, or almost consciously. She frequented them;she spoke of Eastern matters; she found that she had acquaintances whomthe Ogdens also knew, and she often brought them into the conversation. For it may be said, I think, that she was fighting a battle--nay, acampaign. And perhaps this was a hopeful sign for the Virginian (had hebut known it), that the girl resorted to allies. She surrounded herself, she steeped herself, with the East, to have, as it were, a sort ofcounteractant against the spell of the black-haired horse man. 

And his forces were, as I have said, scattered. For his promotion gavehim no more time for love-making. He was foreman now. He had said toJudge Henry, "I'll try to please yu'. " And after the throb of emotionwhich these words had both concealed and conveyed, there came to himthat sort of intention to win which amounts to a certainty. Yes, hewould please Judge Henry!

He did not know how much he had already pleased him. He did not knowthat the Judge was humorously undecided which of his new foreman's firstacts had the more delighted him: his performance with the missionary, orhis magnanimity to Trampas. 

"Good feeling is a great thing in any one, " the Judge would say; "but Ilike to know that my foreman has so much sense. "

"I am personally very grateful to him, " said Mrs. Henry. 

And indeed so was the whole company. To be afflicted with Dr. MacBridefor one night instead of six was a great liberation. 

But the Virginian never saw his sweetheart alone again; while she was atthe Sunk Creek Ranch, his duties called him away so much that there wasno chance for him. Worse still, that habit of birds of a feather broughtabout a separation more considerable. She arranged to go East with theOgdens. It was so good an opportunity to travel with friends, instead ofmaking the journey alone!

Molly's term of ministration at the schoolhouse had so pleased BearCreek that she was warmly urged to take a holiday. School could affordto begin a little late. Accordingly, she departed. 

The Virginian hid his sore heart from her during the moment of farewellthat they had. 

"No, I'll not want any more books, " he said, "till yu' come back. " Andthen he made cheerfulness. "It's just the other way round!" said he. 

"What is the other way round?"

"Why, last time it was me that went travelling, and you that stayedbehind. "

"So it was!" And here she gave him a last scratch. "But you'll be busierthan ever, " she said; "no spare time to grieve about me!"

She could wound him, and she knew it. Nobody else could. That is why shedid it. 

But he gave her something to remember, too. 

"Next time, " he said, "neither of us will stay behind. We'll both gotogether. "

And with these words he gave her no laughing glance. It was a look thatmingled with the words; so that now and again in the train, both cameback to her, and she sat pensive, drawing near to Bennington and hearinghis voice and seeing his eyes. 

How is it that this girl could cry at having to tell Sam Bannett shecould not think of him, and then treat another lover as she treated theVirginian? I cannot tell you, having never (as I said before) been awoman myself. 

Bennington opened its arms to its venturesome daughter. Much was madeof Molly Wood. Old faces and old places welcomed her. Fatted calves ofvarying dimensions made their appearance. And although the fatted calfis an animal that can assume more divergent shapes than any other knowncreature, --being sometimes champagne and partridges, and again cake andcurrant wine, --through each disguise you can always identify the samecalf. The girl from Bear Creek met it at every turn. 

The Bannetts at Hoosic Falls offered a large specimen to Molly--a dinner(perhaps I should say a banquet) of twenty-four. And Sam Bannett ofcourse took her to drive more than once. 

"I want to see the Hoosic Bridge, " she would say. And when they reachedthat well-remembered point, "How lovely it is!" she exclaimed. And asshe gazed at the view up and down the valley, she would grow pensive. "How natural the church looks, " she continued. And then, having crossedboth bridges, "Oh, there's the dear old lodge gate!" Or again, whilethey drove up the valley of the little Hoosic: "I had forgotten it wasso nice and lonely. But after all, no woods are so interesting asthose where you might possibly see a bear or an elk. " And upon anotheroccasion, after a cry of enthusiasm at the view from the top of MountAnthony, "It's lovely, lovely, lovely, " she said, with diminishingcadence, ending in pensiveness once more. "Do you see that little bitjust there? No, not where the trees are--that bare spot that looksbrown and warm in the sun. With a little sagebrush, that spot would looksomething like a place I know on Bear Creek. Only of course you don'tget the clear air here. "

"I don't forget you, " said Sam. "Do you remember me? Or is it out ofsight out of mind?"

And with this beginning he renewed his suit. She told him that sheforgot no one; that she should return always, lest they might forgether. 

"Return always!" he exclaimed. "You talk as if your anchor wasdragging. "

Was it? At all events, Sam failed in his suit. 

Over in the house at Dunbarton, the old lady held Molly's hand andlooked a long while at her. "You have changed very much, " she saidfinally. 

"I am a year older, " said the girl. 

"Pshaw, my dear!" said the great-aunt. "Who is he?"

"Nobody!" cried Molly, with indignation. 

"Then you shouldn't answer so loud, " said the great-aunt. 

The girl suddenly hid her face. "I don't believe I can love any one, "she said, "except myself. "

And then that old lady, who in her day had made her courtesy toLafayette, began to stroke her niece's buried head, because she morethan half understood. And understanding thus much, she asked no pryingquestions, but thought of the days of her own youth, and only spoke alittle quiet love and confidence to Molly. 

"I am an old, old woman, " she said. "But I haven't forgotten about it. They objected to him because he had no fortune. But he was brave andhandsome, and I loved him, my dear. Only I ought to have loved him more. I gave him my promise to think about it. And he and his ship were lost. "The great-aunt's voice had become very soft and low, and she spoke withmany pauses. "So then I knew. If I had--if--perhaps I should have losttrim; but it would have been after--ah, well! So long as you can helpit, never marry! But when you cannot help it a moment longer, thenlisten to nothing but that; for, my dear, I know your choice would beworthy of the Starks. And now--let me see his picture. "

"Why, aunty!" said Molly. 

"Well, I won't pretend to be supernatural, " said the aunt, "but Ithought you kept one back when you were showing us those Western viewslast night. "

Now this was the precise truth. Molly had brought a number ofphotographs from Wyoming to show to her friends at home. These, however, with one exception, were not portraits. They were views of scenery andof cattle round-ups, and other scenes characteristic of ranch life. Ofyoung men she had in her possession several photographs, and all but oneof these she had left behind her. Her aunt's penetration had in a waymesmerized the girl; she rose obediently and sought that picture ofthe Virginian. It was full length, displaying him in all his cow-boytrappings, --the leathern chaps, the belt and pistol, and in his hand acoil of rope. 

Not one of her family had seen it, or suspected its existence. She nowbrought it downstairs and placed it in her aunt's hand. 

"Mercy!" cried the old lady. 

Molly was silent, but her eye grew warlike. 

"Is that the way--" began the aunt. "Mercy!" she murmured; and she satstaring at the picture. 

Molly remained silent. 

Her aunt looked slowly up at her. "Has a man like that presumed--"

"He's not a bit like that. Yes, he's exactly like that, " said Molly. Andshe would have snatched the photograph away, but her aunt retained it. 

"Well, " she said, "I suppose there are days when he does not killpeople. "

"He never killed anybody!" And Molly laughed. 

"Are you seriously--" said the old lady. 

"I almost might--at times. He is perfectly splendid. "

"My dear, you have fallen in love with his clothes. "

"It's not his clothes. And I'm not in love. He often wears others. Hewears a white collar like anybody. "

"Then that would be a more suitable way to be photographed, I think. Hecouldn't go round like that here. I could not receive him myself. "

"He'd never think of such a thing. Why, you talk as if he were asavage. "

The old lady studied the picture closely for a minute. "I think it is agood face, " she finally remarked. "Is the fellow as handsome as that, mydear?"

More so, Molly thought. And who was he, and what were his prospects?were the aunt's next inquiries. She shook her head at the answers whichshe received; and she also shook her head over her niece's emphaticdenial that her heart was lost to this man. But when their parting came, the old lady said: "God bless you and keep you, my dear. I'll not try tomanage you. They managed me--" A sigh spoke the rest of this sentence. "But I'm not worried about you--at least, not very much. You have neverdone anything that was not worthy of the Starks. And if you're goingto take him, do it before I die so that I can bid him welcome for yoursake. God bless you, my dear. "

And after the girl had gone back to Bennington, the great-aunt had thisthought: "She is like us all. She wants a man that is a man. " Nor didthe old lady breathe her knowledge to any member of the family. For shewas a loyal spirit, and her girl's confidence was sacred to her. 

"Besides, " she reflected, "if even I can do nothing with her, what amess THEY'D make of it! We should hear of her elopement next. "

So Molly's immediate family never saw that photograph, and never hearda word from her upon this subject. But on the day that she left for BearCreek, as they sat missing her and discussing her visit in the evening, Mrs. Bell observed: "Mother, how did you think she was?"--"I never sawher better, Sarah. That horrible place seems to agree with her. "--"Oh, yes, agree. It seemed to me--"--"Well?"--"Oh, just somehow that shewas thinking. "--"Thinking?"--"Well, I believe she has something on hermind. "--"You mean a man, " said Andrew Bell. --"A man, Andrew?"--"Yes, Mrs. Wood, that's what Sarah always means. "

It may be mentioned that Sarah's surmises did not greatly contribute toher mother's happiness. And rumor is so strange a thing that presentlyfrom the malicious outside air came a vague and dreadful word--one ofthose words that cannot be traced to its source. Somebody said to AndrewBell that they heard Miss Molly Wood was engaged to marry a RUSTLER. 

"Heavens, Andrew!" said his wife; "what is a rustler?"

It was not in any dictionary, and current translations of it wereinconsistent. A man at Hoosic Falls said that he had passed throughCheyenne, and heard the term applied in a complimentary way to peoplewho were alive and pushing. Another man had always supposed it meantsome kind of horse. But the most alarming version of all was that arustler was a cattle thief. 

Now the truth is that all these meanings were right. The word ran a sortof progress in the cattle country, gathering many meanings as it went. It gathered more, however, in Bennington. In a very few days, gossip hadit that Molly was engaged to a gambler, a gold miner, an escaped stagerobber, and a Mexican bandit; while Mrs. Flynt feared she had married aMormon. 

Along Bear Creek, however, Molly and her "rustler" took a ride soonafter her return. They were neither married nor engaged, and she wastelling him about Vermont. 

"I never was there, " said he. "Never happened to strike in thatdirection. "

"What decided your direction?"

"Oh, looking for chances. I reckon I must have been more ambitious thanmy brothers--or more restless. They stayed around on farms. But I gotout. When I went back again six years afterward, I was twenty. They wastalking about the same old things. Men of twenty-five and thirty--yetjust sittin' and talkin' about the same old things. I told my motherabout what I'd seen here and there, and she liked it, right to herdeath. But the others--well, when I found this whole world was hawgs andturkeys to them, with a little gunnin' afteh small game throwed in, Iput on my hat one mawnin' and told 'em maybe when I was fifty I'd lookin on 'em again to see if they'd got any new subjects. But they'llnever. My brothers don't seem to want chances. "

"You have lost a good many yourself, " said Molly. 

"That's correct. "

"And yet, " said she, "sometimes I think you know a great deal more thanI ever shall. "

"Why, of course I do, " said he, quite simply. "I have earned my livingsince I was fourteen. And that's from old Mexico to British Columbia. I have never stolen or begged a cent. I'd not want yu' to know what Iknow. "

She was looking at him, half listening and half thinking of hergreat-aunt. 

"I am not losing chances any more, " he continued. "And you are the bestI've got. "

She was not sorry to have Georgie Taylor come galloping along at thismoment and join them. But the Virginian swore profanely under hisbreath. And on this ride nothing more happened. 

XXIII. VARIOUS POINTS

Love had been snowbound for many weeks. Before this imprisonment itscourse had run neither smooth nor rough, so far as eye could see; ithad run either not at all, or, as an undercurrent, deep out of sight. Intheir rides, in their talks, love had been dumb, as to spoken words atleast; for the Virginian had set himself a heavy task of silence and ofpatience. Then, where winter barred his visits to Bear Creek, and therewas for the while no ranch work or responsibility to fill his thoughtsand blood with action, he set himself a task much lighter. Often, instead of Shakespeare and fiction, school books lay open on his cabintable; and penmanship and spelling helped the hours to pass. Many sheetsof paper did he fill with various exercises, and Mrs. Henry gave him herassistance in advice and corrections. 

"I shall presently be in love with him myself, " she told the Judge. "Andit's time for you to become anxious. "

"I am perfectly safe, " he retorted. "There's only one woman for him anymore. "

"She is not good enough for him, " declared Mrs. Henry. "But he'll neversee that. "

So the snow fell, the world froze, and the spelling-books and exerciseswent on. But this was not the only case of education which wasprogressing at the Sunk Creek Ranch while love was snowbound. 

One morning Scipio le Moyne entered the Virginian's sitting room--thatapartment where Dr. MacBride had wrestled with sin so courageously allnight. 

The Virginian sat at his desk. Open books lay around him; ahalf-finished piece of writing was beneath his fist; his fingers werecoated with ink. Education enveloped him, it may be said. But there wasnone in his eye. That was upon the window, looking far across the coldplain. 

The foreman did not move when Scipio came in, and this humorous spiritsmiled to himself. "It's Bear Creek he's havin' a vision of, " heconcluded. But he knew instantly that this was not so. The Virginianwas looking at something real, and Scipio went to the window to see forhimself. 

"Well, " he said, having seen, "when is he going to leave us?"

The foreman continued looking at two horsemen riding together. Theirshapes, small in the distance, showed black against the universalwhiteness. 

"When d' yu' figure he'll leave us?" repeated Scipio. 

"He, " murmured the Virginian, always watching the distant horsemen; andagain, "he. "

Scipio sprawled down, familiarly, across a chair. He and the Virginianhad come to know each other very well since that first meeting atMedora. They were birds many of whose feathers were the same, and theVirginian often talked to Scipio without reserve. Consequently, Scipionow understood those two syllables that the Virginian had pronouncedprecisely as though the sentences which lay between them had been fullyexpressed. 

"Hm, " he remarked. "Well, one will be a gain, and the other won't be noloss. "

"Poor Shorty!" said the Virginian. "Poor fool!"

Scipio was less compassionate. "No, " he persisted, "I ain't sorry forhim. Any man old enough to have hair on his face ought to see throughTrampas. "

The Virginian looked out of the window again, and watched Shorty andTrampas as they rode in the distance. "Shorty is kind to animals, " hesaid. "He has gentled that hawss Pedro he bought with his first money. Gentled him wonderful. When a man is kind to dumb animals, I always sayhe had got some good in him. "

"Yes, " Scipio reluctantly admitted. "Yes. But I always did hate a fool. "

"This hyeh is a mighty cruel country, " pursued the Virginian. "Toanimals that is. Think of it! Think what we do to hundreds an' thousandsof little calves! Throw 'em down, brand 'em, cut 'em, ear mark 'em, turn'em loose, and on to the next. It has got to be, of course. But I saythis. If a man can go jammin' hot irons on to little calves and slicin'pieces off 'em with his knife, and live along, keepin' a kindness foranimals in his heart, he has got some good in him. And that's whatShorty has got. But he is lettin' Trampas get a hold of him, and both ofthem will leave us. " And the Virginian looked out across the huge winterwhiteness again. But the riders had now vanished behind some foot-hills. 

Scipio sat silent. He had never put these thoughts about men and animalsto himself, and when they were put to him, he saw that they were true. 

"Queer, " he observed finally

"What?"

"Everything. "

"Nothing's queer, " stated the Virginian, "except marriage and lightning. Them two occurrences can still give me a sensation of surprise. "

"All the same it is queer, " Scipio insisted

"Well, let her go at me. "

"Why, Trampas. He done you dirt. You pass that over. You could havefired him, but you let him stay and keep his job. That's goodness. Andbadness is resultin' from it, straight. Badness right from goodness. "

"You're off the trail a whole lot, " said the Virginian. 

"Which side am I off, then?"

"North, south, east, and west. First point. I didn't expect to doTrampas any good by not killin' him, which I came pretty near doin'three times. Nor I didn't expect to do Trampas any good by lettin' himkeep his job. But I am foreman of this ranch. And I can sit and tell allmen to their face: 'I was above that meanness. ' Point two: it ain't anyGOODNESS, it is TRAMPAS that badness has resulted from. Put him anywhereand it will be the same. Put him under my eye, and I can follow hismoves a little, anyway. You have noticed, maybe, that since you and Irun on to that dead Polled Angus cow, that was still warm when we gotto her, we have found no more cows dead of sudden death. We came mightyclose to catchin' whoever it was that killed that cow and ran her calfoff to his own bunch. He wasn't ten minutes ahead of us. We can provenothin'; and he knows that just as well as we do. But our cows have allquit dyin' of sudden death. And Trampas he's gettin' ready for a changeof residence. As soon as all the outfits begin hirin' new hands in thespring, Trampas will leave us and take a job with some of them. Andmaybe our cows'll commence gettin' killed again, and we'll have to takesteps that will be more emphatic--maybe. "

Scipio meditated. "I wonder what killin' a man feels like?" he said. 

"Why, nothing to bother yu'--when he'd ought to have been killed. Nextpoint: Trampas he'll take Shorty with him, which is certainly bad forShorty. But it's me that has kept Shorty out of harm's way this long. IfI had fired Trampas, he'd have worked Shorty into dissatisfaction thatmuch sooner. "

Scipio meditated again. "I knowed Trampas would pull his freight, " hesaid. "But I didn't think of Shorty. What makes you think it?"

"He asked me for a raise. "

"He ain't worth the pay he's getting now. "

"Trampas has told him different. "

"When a man ain't got no ideas of his own, " said Scipio, "he'd ought tobe kind o' careful who he borrows 'em from. "

"That's mighty correct, " said the Virginian. "Poor Shorty! He has toldme about his life. It is sorrowful. And he will never get wise. It wastoo late for him to get wise when he was born. D' yu' know why he'safter higher wages? He sends most all his money East. "

"I don't see what Trampas wants him for, " said Scipio. 

"Oh, a handy tool some day. "

"Not very handy, " said Scipio. 

"Well, Trampas is aimin' to train him. Yu' see, supposin' yu' werefiguring to turn professional thief--yu'd be lookin' around for a niceyoung trustful accomplice to take all the punishment and let you takethe rest. "

"No such thing!" cried Scipio, angrily. "I'm no shirker. " And then, perceiving the Virginian's expression, he broke out laughing. "Well, " heexclaimed, "yu' fooled me that time. "

"Looks that way. But I do mean it about Trampas. "

Presently Scipio rose, and noticed the half-finished exercise upon theVirginian's desk. "Trampas is a rolling stone, " he said. 

"A rolling piece of mud, " corrected the Virginian. 

"Mud! That's right. I'm a rolling stone. Sometimes I'd most like to quitbeing. "

"That's easy done, " said the Virginian. 

"No doubt, when yu've found the moss yu' want to gather. " As Scipioglanced at the school books again, a sparkle lurked in his bleached blueeye. "I can cipher some, " he said. "But I expect I've got my own notionsabout spelling. "

"I retain a few private ideas that way myself, " remarked the Virginian, innocently; and Scipio's sparkle gathered light. 

"As to my geography, " he pursued, "that's away out loose in the brush. Is Bennington the capital of Vermont? And how d' yu' spell bridegroom?"

"Last point!" shouted the Virginian, letting a book fly after him:"don't let badness and goodness worry yu', for yu'll never be a judge ofthem. "

But Scipio had dodged the book, and was gone. As he went his way, hesaid to himself, "All the same, it must pay to fall regular in love. "At the bunk house that afternoon it was observed that he was unusuallysilent. His exit from the foreman's cabin had let in a breath of winterso chill that the Virginian went to see his thermometer, a Christmaspresent from Mrs. Henry. It registered twenty below zero. After revivingthe fire to a white blaze, the foreman sat thinking over the storyof Shorty: what its useless, feeble past had been; what would be itsuseless, feeble future. He shook his head over the sombre question, Was there any way out for Shorty? "It may be, " he reflected, "that themwhose pleasure brings yu' into this world owes yu' a living. But thatdon't make the world responsible. The world did not beget you. I reckonman helps them that help themselves. As for the universe, it looks likeit did too wholesale a business to turn out an article up to standardevery clip. Yes, it is sorrowful. For Shorty is kind to his hawss. "

In the evening the Virginian brought Shorty into his room. He usuallyknew what he had to say, usually found it easy to arrange his thoughts;and after such arranging the words came of themselves. But as he lookedat Shorty, this did not happen to him. There was not a line of badnessin the face; yet also there was not a line of strength; no promise ineye, or nose, or chin; the whole thing melted to a stubby, featurelessmediocrity. It was a countenance like thousands; and hopelessness filledthe Virginian as he looked at this lost dog, and his dull, wistful eyes. 

But some beginning must be made. 

"I wonder what the thermometer has got to be, " he said. "Yu' can see it, if yu'll hold the lamp to that right side of the window. "

Shorty held the lamp. "I never used any, " he said, looking out at theinstrument, nevertheless. 

The Virginian had forgotten that Shorty could not read. So he lookedout of the window himself, and found that it was twenty-two below zero. "This is pretty good tobacco, " he remarked; and Shorty helped himself, and filled his pipe. 

"I had to rub my left ear with snow to-day, " said he. "I was just intime. "

"I thought it looked pretty freezy out where yu' was riding, " said theforeman. 

The lost dog's eyes showed plain astonishment. "We didn't see you outthere, " said he. 

"Well, " said the foreman, "it'll soon not be freezing any more; and thenwe'll all be warm enough with work. Everybody will be working all overthe range. And I wish I knew somebody that had a lot of stable work tobe attended to. I cert'nly do for your sake. "

"Why?" said Shorty. 

"Because it's the right kind of a job for you. "

"I can make more--" began Shorty, and stopped. 

"There is a time coming, " said the Virginian, "when I'll want somebodythat knows how to get the friendship of hawsses. I'll want him to handlesome special hawsses the Judge has plans about. Judge Henry would payfifty a month for that. "

"I can make more, " said Shorty, this time with stubbornness. 

"Well, yes. Sometimes a man can--when he's not worth it, I mean. But itdon't generally last. "

Shorty was silent. "I used to make more myself, " said the Virginian. 

"You're making a lot more now, " said Shorty. 

"Oh, yes. But I mean when I was fooling around the earth, jumping fromjob to job, and helling all over town between whiles. I was not worthfifty a month then, nor twenty-five. But there was nights I made a heapmore at cyards. "

Shorty's eyes grew large. 

"And then, bang! it was gone with treatin' the men and the girls. "

"I don't always--" said Shorty, and stopped again. 

The Virginian knew that he was thinking about the money he sent East. "After a while, " he continued, "I noticed a right strange fact. Themoney I made easy that I WASN'T worth, it went like it came. I strainedmyself none gettin' or spendin' it. But the money I made hard that I WASworth, why I began to feel right careful about that. And now I have gotsavings stowed away. If once yu' could know how good that feels--"

"So I would know, " said Shorty, "with your luck. "

"What's my luck?" said the Virginian, sternly. 

"Well, if I had took up land along a creek that never goes dry andproved upon it like you have, and if I had saw that land raise its valueon me with me lifting no finger--"

"Why did you lift no finger?" cut in the Virginian. "Who stopped yu'taking up land? Did it not stretch in front of yu', behind yu', allaround yu', the biggest, baldest opportunity in sight? That was the timeI lifted my finger; but yu' didn't. "

Shorty stood stubborn. 

"But never mind that, " said the Virginian. "Take my land away to-morrow, and I'd still have my savings in bank. Because, you see, I had to workright hard gathering them in. I found out what I could do, and I settleddown and did it. Now you can do that too. The only tough part is thefinding out what you're good for. And for you, that is found. If you'lljust decide to work at this thing you can do, and gentle those hawssesfor the Judge, you'll be having savings in a bank yourself. "

"I can make more, " said the lost dog. 

The Virginian was on the point of saying, "Then get out!" But instead, he spoke kindness to the end. "The weather is freezing yet, " he said, "and it will be for a good long while. Take your time, and tell me ifyu' change your mind. "

After that Shorty returned to the bunk house, and the Virginian knewthat the boy had learned his lesson of discontent from Trampas witha thoroughness past all unteaching. This petty triumph of evil seemedscarce of the size to count as any victory over the Virginian. But allmen grasp at straws. Since that first moment, when in the Medicine Bowsaloon the Virginian had shut the mouth of Trampas by a word, the manhad been trying to get even without risk; and at each successive clashof his weapon with the Virginian's, he had merely met another publichumiliation. Therefore, now at the Sunk Creek Ranch in these cold whitedays, a certain lurking insolence in his gait showed plainly his opinionthat by disaffecting Shorty he had made some sort of reprisal. 

Yes, he had poisoned the lost dog. In the springtime, when theneighboring ranches needed additional hands, it happened as theVirginian had foreseen, --Trampas departed to a "better job, " as he tookpains to say, and with him the docile Shorty rode away upon his horsePedro. 

Love now was not any longer snowbound. The mountain trails were openenough for the sure feet of love's steed--that horse called Monte. But duty blocked the path of love. Instead of turning his face to BearCreek, the foreman had other journeys to make, full of heavy work, and watchfulness, and councils with the Judge. The cattle thieves weregrowing bold, and winter had scattered the cattle widely over the range. Therefore the Virginian, instead of going to see her, wrote a letter tohis sweetheart. It was his first. 

XXIV. A LETTER WITH A MORAL

The letter which the Virginian wrote to Molly Wood was, as has beenstated, the first that he had ever addressed to her. I think, perhaps, he may have been a little shy as to his skill in the epistolary art, alittle anxious lest any sustained production from his pen might containblunders that would too staringly remind her of his scant learning. Hecould turn off a business communication about steers or stock cars, orany other of the subjects involved in his profession, with a brevityand a clearness that led the Judge to confide three-quarters of suchcorrespondence to his foreman. "Write to the 76 outfit, " the Judge wouldsay, "and tell them that my wagon cannot start for the round-up until, "etc. ; or "Write to Cheyenne and say that if they will hold a meetingnext Monday week, I will, " etc. And then the Virginian would write suchcommunications with ease. 

But his first message to his lady was scarcely written with ease. Itmust be classed, I think, among those productions which are styledliterary EFFORTS. It was completed in pencil before it was copied inink; and that first draft of it in pencil was well-nigh illegible witherasures and amendments. The state of mind of the writer during itscomposition may be gathered without further description on my part froma slight interruption which occurred in the middle. 

The door opened, and Scipio put his head in. "You coming to dinner?" heinquired. 

"You go to hell, " replied the Virginian. 

"My links!" said Scipio, quietly, and he shut the door without furtherobservation. 

To tell the truth, I doubt if this letter would ever have beenundertaken, far less completed and despatched, had not the lover's heartbeen wrung with disappointment. All winter long he had looked to thatday when he should knock at the girl's door, and hear her voice bid himcome in. All winter long he had been choosing the ride he would takeher. He had imagined a sunny afternoon, a hidden grove, a shelteringcleft of rock, a running spring, and some words of his that shouldconquer her at last and leave his lips upon hers. And with thiscontrolled fire pent up within him, he had counted the days, scratchingthem off his calendar with a dig each night that once or twice snappedthe pen. Then, when the trail stood open, this meeting was deferred, put off for indefinite days, or weeks; he could not tell how long. So, gripping his pencil and tracing heavy words, he gave himself whatconsolation he could by writing her. 

The letter, duly stamped and addressed to Bear Creek, set forth uponits travels; and these were devious and long. When it reached itsdestination, it was some twenty days old. It had gone by private handat the outset, taken the stagecoach at a way point, become late inthat stagecoach, reached a point of transfer, and waited there for thepostmaster to begin, continue, end, and recover from a game of poker, mingled with whiskey. Then it once more proceeded, was dropped atthe right way point, and carried by private hand to Bear Creek. Theexperience of this letter, however, was not at all a remarkable one atthat time in Wyoming. 

Molly Wood looked at the envelope. She had never before seen theVirginian's handwriting She knew it instantly. She closed her door andsat down to read it with a beating heart. 

SUNK CREEK RANCH, May 5, 188-

My Dear Miss Wood: I am sorry about this. My plan was different. It wasto get over for a ride with you about now or sooner. This year Spring isearly. The snow is off the flats this side the range and where thesun gets a chance to hit the earth strong all day it is green and hasflowers too, a good many. You can see them bob and mix together in thewind. The quaking-asps down low on the South side are in small leaf andwill soon be twinkling like the flowers do now. I had planned to take alook at this with you and that was a better plan than what I have got todo. The water is high but I could have got over and as for the snow ontop of the mountain a man told me nobody could cross it for a week yet, because he had just done it himself. Was not he a funny man? You oughtto see how the birds have streamed across the sky while Spring wascoming. But you have seen them on your side of the mountain. But I can'tcome now Miss Wood. There is a lot for me to do that has to be done andJudge Henry needs more than two eyes just now. I could not think much ofmyself if I left him for my own wishes. 

But the days will be warmer when I come. We will not have to quit byfive, and we can get off and sit too. We could not sit now unless for avery short while. If I know when I can come I will try to let you know, but I think it will be this way. I think you will just see me coming forI have things to do of an unsure nature and a good number of such. Donot believe reports about Indians. They are started by editors to keepthe soldiers in the country. The friends of the editors get the hay andbeef contracts. Indians do not come to settled parts like Bear Creek is. It is all editors and politicianists. 

Nothing has happened worth telling you. I have read that play Othello. No man should write down such a thing. Do you know if it is true? I haveseen one worse affair down in Arizona. He killed his little child aswell as his wife but such things should not be put down in fine languagefor the public. I have read Romeo and Juliet. That is beautiful languagebut Romeo is no man. I like his friend Mercutio that gets killed. Heis a man. If he had got Juliet there would have been no foolishness andtrouble. 

Well Miss Wood I would like to see you to-day. Do you know what I thinkMonte would do if I rode him out and let the rein slack? He would comestraight to your gate for he is a horse of great judgement. ("That's thefirst word he has misspelled, " said Molly. ) I suppose you are sittingwith George Taylor and those children right now. Then George will getold enough to help his father but Uncle Hewie's twins will be ready foryou about then and the supply will keep coming from all quarters allsizes for you to say big A little a to them. There is no news here. Onlycalves and cows and the hens are laying now which does always seem newsto a hen every time she does it. Did I ever tell you about a hen Emilywe had here? She was venturesome to an extent I have not seen in otherhens only she had poor judgement and would make no family ties. Shewould keep trying to get interest in the ties of others taking chargeof little chicks and bantams and turkeys and puppies one time, and shethought most anything was an egg. I will tell you about her sometime. She died without family ties one day while I was building a house forher to teach school in. ("The outrageous wretch!" cried Molly! And hercheeks turned deep pink as she sat alone with her lover's letter. )

I am coming the first day I am free. I will be a hundred miles from youmost of the time when I am not more but I will ride a hundred miles forone hour and Monte is up to that. After never seeing you for so long Iwill make one hour do if I have to. Here is a flower I have just beenout and picked. I have kissed it now. That is the best I can do yet. 

Molly laid the letter in her lap and looked at the flower. Then suddenlyshe jumped up and pressed it to her lips, and after a long moment heldit away from her. 

"No, " she said. "No, no, no. " She sat down. 

It was some time before she finished the letter. Then once more she gotup and put on her hat. 

Mrs. Taylor wondered where the girl could be walking so fast. But shewas not walking anywhere, and in half an hour she returned, rosy withher swift exercise, but with a spirit as perturbed as when she had setout. 

Next morning at six, when she looked out of her window, there was Montetied to the Taylor's gate. Ah, could he have come the day before, couldshe have found him when she returned from that swift walk of hers!

XXV. PROGRESS OF THE LOST DOG

It was not even an hour's visit that the Virginian was able to payhis lady love. But neither had he come a hundred miles to see her. Thenecessities of his wandering work had chanced to bring him close enoughfor a glimpse of her, and this glimpse he took, almost on the wing. Forhe had to rejoin a company of men at once. 

"Yu' got my letter?" he said. 

"Yesterday. "

"Yesterday! I wrote it three weeks ago. Well, yu' got it. This cannotbe the hour with you that I mentioned. That is coming, and maybe verysoon. "

She could say nothing. Relief she felt, and yet with it something like apang. 

"To-day does not count, " he told her, "except that every time I see youcounts with me. But this is not the hour that I mentioned. "

What little else was said between them upon this early morning shall betold duly. For this visit in its own good time did count momentously, though both of them took it lightly while its fleeting minutes passed. He returned to her two volumes that she had lent him long ago andwith Taylor he left a horse which he had brought for her to ride. As agood-by, he put a bunch of flowers in her hand. Then he was gone, andshe watched him going by the thick bushes along the stream. They werepink with wild roses; and the meadow-larks, invisible in the grass, like hiding choristers, sent up across the empty miles of air theirunexpected song. Earth and sky had been propitious, could he havestayed; and perhaps one portion of her heart had been propitious too. So, as he rode away on Monte, she watched him, half chilled by reason, half melted by passion, self-thwarted, self-accusing, unresolved. Therefore the days that came for her now were all of them unhappy ones, while for him they were filled with work well done and with changelesslonging. 

One day it seemed as if a lull was coming, a pause in which he couldat last attain that hour with her. He left the camp and turned his facetoward Bear Creek. The way led him along Butte Creek. Across the streamlay Balaam's large ranch; and presently on the other bank he saw Balaamhimself, and reined in Monte for a moment to watch what Balaam wasdoing. 

"That's what I've heard, " he muttered to himself. For Balaam had ledsome horses to the water, and was lashing them heavily because theywould not drink. He looked at this spectacle so intently that he did notsee Shorty approaching along the trail. 

"Morning, " said Shorty to him, with some constraint. 

But the Virginian gave him a pleasant greeting, "I was afraid I'd notcatch you so quick, " said Shorty. "This is for you. " He handed hisrecent foreman a letter of much battered appearance. It was from theJudge. It had not come straight, but very gradually, in the pockets ofthree successive cow-punchers. As the Virginian glanced over it and sawthat the enclosure it contained was for Balaam, his heart fell. Herewere new orders for him, and he could not go to see his sweetheart. 

"Hello, Shorty!" said Balaam, from over the creek. To the Virginian hegave a slight nod. He did not know him, although he knew well enough whohe was. 

"Hyeh's a letter from Judge Henry for yu'" said the Virginian, and hecrossed the creek. 

Many weeks before, in the early spring, Balaam had borrowed two horsesfrom the Judge, promising to return them at once. But the Judge, ofcourse, wrote very civilly. He hoped that "this dunning reminder" mightbe excused. As Balaam read the reminder, he wished that he had sent thehorses before. The Judge was a greater man than he in the Territory. Balaam could not but excuse the "dunning reminder, "--but he was ready tobe disagreeable to somebody at once. 

"Well, " he said, musing aloud in his annoyance, "Judge Henry wants themby the 30th. Well, this is the 24th, and time enough yet. "

"This is the 27th, " said the Virginian, briefly. 

That made a difference! Not so easy to reach Sunk Creek in good order bythe 30th! Balaam had drifted three sunrises behind the progress of themonth. Days look alike, and often lose their very names in the quietdepths of Cattle Land. The horses were not even here at the ranch. Balaam was ready to be very disagreeable now. Suddenly he perceived thedate of the Judge's letter. He held it out to the Virginian, and struckthe paper. 

"What's your idea in bringing this here two weeks late?" he said. 

Now, when he had struck that paper, Shorty looked at the Virginian. Butnothing happened beyond a certain change of light in the Southerner'seyes. And when the Southerner spoke, it was with his usual gentlenessand civility. He explained that the letter had been put in his handsjust now by Shorty. 

"Oh, " said Balaam. He looked at Shorty. How had he come to be amessenger? "You working for the Sunk Creek outfit again?" said he. 

"No, " said Shorty. 

Balaam turned to the Virginian again. "How do you expect me to get thosehorses to Sunk Creek by the 30th?"

The Virginian levelled a lazy eye on Balaam. "I ain' doin' anyexpecting, " said he. His native dialect was on top to-day. "The Judgehas friends goin' to arrive from New Yawk for a trip across the Basin, "he added. "The hawsses are for them. "

Balaam grunted with displeasure, and thought of the sixty or seventydays since he had told the Judge he would return the horses at once. He looked across at Shorty seated in the shade, and through his uneasythoughts his instinct irrelevantly noted what a good pony the youthrode. It was the same animal he had seen once or twice before. Butsomething must be done. The Judge's horses were far out on the bigrange, and must be found and driven in, which would take certainly therest of this day, possibly part of the next. 

Balaam called to one of his men and gave some sharp orders, emphasizingdetails, and enjoining haste, while the Virginian leaned slightlyagainst his horse, with one arm over the saddle, hearing andunderstanding, but not smiling outwardly. The man departed to saddle upfor his search on the big range, and Balaam resumed the unhitching ofhis team. 

"So you're not working for the Sunk Creek outfit now?" he inquired ofShorty. He ignored the Virginian. "Working for the Goose Egg?"

"No, " said Shorty. 

"Sand Hill outfit, then?"

"No, " said Shorty. 

Balaam grinned. He noticed how Shorty's yellow hair stuck through a holein his hat, and how old and battered were Shorty's overalls. Shorty hadbeen glad to take a little accidental pay for becoming the bearer of theletter which he had delivered to the Virginian. But even that sum was nolonger in his possession. He had passed through Drybone on his way, andat Drybone there had been a game of poker. Shorty's money was now in thepocket of Trampas. But he had one valuable possession in the world leftto him, and that was his horse Pedro. 

"Good pony of yours, " said Balaam to him now, from across Butte Creek. Then he struck his own horse in the jaw because he held back from comingto the water as the other had done. 

"Your trace ain't unhitched, " commented the Virginian, pointing. 

Balaam loosed the strap he had forgotten, and cut the horse again forconsistency's sake. The animal, bewildered, now came down to the water, with its head in the air, and snuffing as it took short, nervous steps. 

The Virginian looked on at this, silent and sombre. He could scarcelyinterfere between another man and his own beast. Neither he nor Balaamwas among those who say their prayers. Yet in this omission they werenot equal. A half-great poet once had a wholly great day, and in thatgreat day he was able to write a poem that has lived and become, withmany, a household word. He called it The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. And it is rich with many lines that possess the memory; but these arethe golden ones:

 "He prayeth well who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all. "

These lines are the pure gold. They are good to teach children; becauseafter the children come to be men, they may believe at least some partof them still. The Virginian did not know them, --but his heart hadtaught him many things. I doubt if Balaam knew them either. But on himthey would have been as pearls to swine. 

"So you've quit the round-up?" he resumed to Shorty. 

Shorty nodded and looked sidewise at the Virginian. 

For the Virginian knew that he had been turned off for going to sleepwhile night-herding. 

Then Balaam threw another glance on Pedro the horse. 

"Hello, Shorty!" he called out, for the boy was departing. "Don't youlike dinner any more? It's ready about now. "

Shorty forded the creek and slung his saddle off, and on invitationturned Pedro, his buckskin pony, into Balaam's pasture. This was green, the rest of the wide world being yellow, except only where Butte Creek, with its bordering cottonwoods, coiled away into the desert distancelike a green snake without end. The Virginian also turned his horse intothe pasture. He must stay at the ranch till the Judge's horses should befound. 

"Mrs. Balaam's East yet, " said her lord, leading the way to his diningroom. 

He wanted Shorty to dine with him, and could not exclude the Virginian, much as he should have enjoyed this. 

"See any Indians?" he enquired. 

"Na-a!" said Shorty, in disdain of recent rumors. 

"They're headin' the other way, " observed the Virginian. "Bow Laig Rangeis where they was repawted. "

"What business have they got off the reservation, I'd like to know, "said the ranchman, "Bow Leg, or anywhere?"

"Oh, it's just a hunt, and a kind of visitin' their friends on the SouthReservation, " Shorty explained. "Squaws along and all. "

"Well, if the folks at Washington don't keep squaws and all where theybelong, " said Balaam, in a rage, "the folks in Wyoming Territory 'ill doa little job that way themselves. "

"There's a petition out, " said Shorty. "Paper's goin' East with a lot ofnames to it. But they ain't no harm, them Indians ain't. "

"No harm?" rasped out Balaam. "Was it white men druv off the O. C. Yearlings?"

Balaam's Eastern grammar was sometimes at the mercy of his Westernfeelings. The thought of the perennial stultification of Indian affairsat Washington, whether by politician or philanthropist, was always sureto arouse him. He walked impatiently about while he spoke, and haltedimpatiently at the window. Out in the world the unclouded day wasshining, and Balaam's eye travelled across the plains to where a blueline, faint and pale, lay along the end of the vast yellow distance. That was the beginning of the Bow Leg Mountains. Somewhere over therewere the red men, ranging in unfrequented depths of rock and pine--theirforbidden ground. 

Dinner was ready, and they sat down. 

"And I suppose, " Balaam continued, still hot on the subject, "you'dclaim Indians object to killing a white man when they run on to him goodand far from human help? These peaceable Indians are just the worst inthe business. "

"That's so, " assented the easy-opinioned Shorty, exactly as if he hadalways maintained this view. "Chap started for Sunk Creek three weeksago. Trapper he was; old like, with a red shirt. One of his horses comeinto the round-up Toosday. Man ain't been heard from. " He ate in silencefor a while, evidently brooding in his childlike mind. Then he said, querulously, "I'd sooner trust one of them Indians than I wouldTrampas. "

Balaam slanted his fat bullet head far to one side, and laying his spoondown (he had opened some canned grapes) laughed steadily at his guestwith a harsh relish of irony. 

The guest ate a grape, and perceiving he was seen through, smiled backrather miserably. 

"Say, Shorty, " said Balaam, his head still slanted over, "what's thefigures of your bank balance just now?"

"I ain't usin' banks, " murmured the youth. 

Balaam put some more grapes on Shorty's plate, and drawing a cigar fromhis waistcoat, sent it rolling to his guest. 

"Matches are behind you, " he added. He gave a cigar to the Virginian asan afterthought, but to his disgust, the Southerner put it in his pocketand lighted a pipe. 

Balaam accompanied his guest, Shorty, when he went to the pasture tosaddle up and depart. "Got a rope?" he asked the guest, as they lifteddown the bars. 

"Don't need to rope him. I can walk right up to Pedro. You stay back. "

Hiding his bridle behind him, Shorty walked to the river-bank, where thepony was switching his long tail in the shade; and speaking persuasivelyto him, he came nearer, till he laid his hand on Pedro's dusky mane, which was many shades darker than his hide. He turned expectantly, andhis master came up to his expectations with a piece of bread. 

"Eats that, does he?" said Balaam, over the bars. 

"Likes the salt, " said Shorty. "Now, n-n-ow, here! Yu' don't guessyu'll be bridled, don't you? Open your teeth! Yu'd like to play yu' wasnobody's horse and live private? Or maybe yu'd prefer ownin' a saloon?"

Pedro evidently enjoyed this talk, and the dodging he made about thebit. Once fairly in his mouth, he accepted the inevitable, and followedShorty to the bars. Then Shorty turned and extended his hand. 

"Shake!" he said to his pony, who lifted his forefoot quietly and put itin his master's hand. Then the master tickled his nose, and he wrinkledit and flattened his ears, pretending to bite. His face wore anexpression of knowing relish over this performance. "Now the otherhoof, " said Shorty; and the horse and master shook hands with theirleft. "I learned him that, " said the cowboy, with pride and affection. "Say, Pede, " he continued, in Pedro's ear, "ain't yu' the best littlehorse in the country? What? Here, now! Keep out of that, you dead-beat!There ain't no more bread. " He pinched the pony's nose, one quarter ofwhich was wedged into his pocket. 

"Quite a lady's little pet!" said Balaam, with the rasp in his voice. "Pity this isn't New York, now, where there's a big market for harmlesshorses. Gee-gees, the children call them. "

"He ain't no gee-gee, " said Shorty, offended. "He'll beat any cow-ponyworkin' you've got. Yu' can turn him on a half-dollar. Don't need totouch the reins. Hang 'em on one finger and swing your body, and he'llturn. "

Balaam knew this, and he knew that the pony was only a four-year-old. "Well, " he said, "Drybone's had no circus this season. Maybe they'd buytickets to see Pedro. He's good for that, anyway. "

Shorty became gloomy. The Virginian was grimly smoking. Here wassomething else going on not to his taste, but none of his business. 

"Try a circus, " persisted Balaam. "Alter your plans for spending cash intown, and make a little money instead. "

Shorty having no plans to alter and no cash to spend, grew still moregloomy. 

"What'll you take for that pony?" said Balaam. 

Shorty spoke up instantly. "A hundred dollars couldn't buy that pieceof stale mud off his back, " he asserted, looking off into the skygrandiosely. 

But Balaam looked at Shorty, "You keep the mud, " he said, "and I'll giveyou thirty dollars for the horse. "

Shorty did a little professional laughing, and began to walk toward hissaddle. 

"Give you thirty dollars, " repeated Balaam, picking a stone up andslinging it into the river. 

"How far do yu' call it to Drybone?" Shorty remarked, stooping toinvestigate the bucking-strap on his saddle--a superfluous performance, for Pedro never bucked. 

"You won't have to walk, " said Balaam. "Stay all night, and I'll sendyou over comfortably in the morning, when the wagon goes for the mail. "

"Walk?" Shorty retorted. "Drybone's twenty-five miles. Pedro'll put methere in three hours and not know he done it. " He lifted the saddle onthe horse's back. "Come, Pedro, " said he. 

"Come, Pedro!" mocked Balaam. 

There followed a little silence. 

"No, sir, " mumbled Shorty, with his head under Pedro's belly, busilycinching. "A hundred dollars is bottom figures. "

Balaam, in his turn, now duly performed some professional laughing, which was noted by Shorty under the horse's belly. He stood up andsquared round on Balaam. "Well, then, " he said, "what'll yu give forhim?"

"Thirty dollars, " said Balaam, looking far off into the sky, as Shortyhad looked. 

"Oh, come, now, " expostulated Shorty. 

It was he who now did the feeling for an offer and this was what Balaamliked to see. "Why yes, " he said, "thirty, " and looked surprised that heshould have to mention the sum so often. 

"I thought yu'd quit them first figures, " said the cow-puncher, "for yu'can see I ain't goin' to look at em. "

Balaam climbed on the fence and sat there "I'm not crying for yourPedro, " he observed dispassionately. "Only it struck me you were deadbroke, and wanted to raise cash and keep yourself going till you huntedup a job and could buy him back. " He hooked his right thumb inside hiswaistcoat pocket. "But I'm not cryin' for him, " he repeated. "He'd stayright here, of course. I wouldn't part with him. Why does he stand thatway? Hello!" Balaam suddenly straightened himself, like a man who hasmade a discovery. 

"Hello, what?" said Shorty, on the defensive. 

Balaam was staring at Pedro with a judicial frown. Then he stuck out afinger at the horse, keeping the thumb hooked in his pocket. So meagrea gesture was felt by the ruffled Shorty to be no just way to point atPedro. "What's the matter with that foreleg there?" said Balaam. 

"Which? Nothin's the matter with it!" snapped Shorty. 

Balaam climbed down from his fence and came over with elaboratedeliberation. He passed his hand up and down the off foreleg. Then hespit slenderly. "Mm!" he said thoughtfully; and added, with a shade ofsadness, "that's always to be expected when they're worked too young. "

Shorty slid his hand slowly over the disputed leg. "What's to beexpected?" he inquired--"that they'll eat hearty? Well, he does. "

At this retort the Virginian permitted himself to laugh in audiblesympathy. 

"Sprung, " continued Balaam, with a sigh. "Whirling round short when hisbones were soft did that. Yes. "

"Sprung!" Shorty said, with a bark of indignation. "Come on, Pede; youand me'll spring for town. "

He caught the horn of the saddle, and as he swung into place the horserushed away with him. "O-ee! yoi-yup, yup, yup!" sang Shorty, in theshrill cow dialect. He made Pedro play an exhibition game of speed, bringing him round close to Balaam in a wide circle, and then hevanished in dust down the left-bank trail. 

Balaam looked after him and laughed harshly. He had seen trout dashabout like that when the hook in their jaw first surprised them. He knewShorty would show the pony off, and he knew Shorty's love for Pedrowas not equal to his need of money. He called to one of his men, askedsomething about the dam at the mouth of the canyon, where the mainirrigation ditch began, made a remark about the prolonged drought, andthen walked to his dining-room door, where, as he expected, Shorty methim. 

"Say, " said the youth, "do you consider that's any way to talk about agood horse?"

"Any dude could see the leg's sprung, " said Balaam. But he looked atPedro's shoulder, which was well laid back; and he admired his points, dark in contrast with the buckskin, and also the width between the eyes. 

"Now you know, " whined Shorty, "that it ain't sprung any more than yourleg's cork. If you mean the right leg ain't plumb straight, I can tellyou he was born so. That don't make no difference, for it ain't weak. Try him onced. Just as sound and strong as iron. Never stumbles. And hedon't never go to jumpin' with yu'. He's kind and he's smart. " And themaster petted his pony, who lifted a hoof for another handshake. 

Of course Balaam had never thought the leg was sprung, and he now tookon an unprejudiced air of wanting to believe Shorty's statements if heonly could. 

"Maybe there's two years' work left in that leg, " he now observed. 

"Better give your hawss away, Shorty, " said the Virginian. 

"Is this your deal, my friend?" inquired Balaam. And he slanted hisbullet head at the Virginian. 

"Give him away, Shorty, " drawled the Southerner. "His laig is busted. Mr. Balaam says so. "

Balaam's face grew evil with baffled fury. But the Virginian was gravelyconsidering Pedro. He, too, was not pleased. But he could not interfere. Already he had overstepped the code in these matters. He would havedearly liked--for reasons good and bad, spite and mercy mingled--tohave spoiled Balaam's market, to have offered a reasonable or even anunreasonable price for Pedro, and taken possession of the horse himself. But this might not be. In bets, in card games, in all horse transactionsand other matters of similar business, a man must take care of himself, and wiser onlookers must suppress their wisdom and hold their peace. 

That evening Shorty again had a cigar. He had parted with Pedrofor forty dollars, a striped Mexican blanket, and a pair of spurs. Undressing over in the bunk house, he said to the Virginian, "I'll surebuy Pedro back off him just as soon as ever I rustle some cash. " TheVirginian grunted. He was thinking he should have to travel hard toget the horses to the Judge by the 30th; and below that thought lay hisaching disappointment and his longing for Bear Creek. 

In the early dawn Shorty sat up among his blankets on the floor of thebunk house and saw the various sleepers coiled or sprawled in theirbeds; their breathing had not yet grown restless at the nearing of day. He stepped to the door carefully, and saw the crowding blackbirds begintheir walk and chatter in the mud of the littered and trodden corrals. From beyond among the cotton woods, came continually the smoothunemphatic sound of the doves answering each other invisibly; andagainst the empty ridge of the river-bluff lay the moon, no longershining, for there was established a new light through the sky. Pedrostood in the pasture close to the bars. The cowboy slowly closed thedoor behind him, and sitting down on the step, drew his money out andidly handled it, taking no comfort just then from its possession. Thenhe put it back, and after dragging on his boots, crossed to the pasture, and held a last talk with his pony, brushing the cakes of mud from hishide where he had rolled, and passing a lingering hand over his mane. Asthe sounds of the morning came increasingly from tree and plain, Shortyglanced back to see that no one was yet out of the cabin, and then puthis arms round the horse's neck, laying his head against him. For amoment the cowboy's insignificant face was exalted by the emotion hewould never have let others see. He hugged tight this animal, who wasdearer to his heart than anybody in the world. 

"Good-by, Pedro, " he said--"good-by. " Pedro looked for bread. 

"No, " said his master, sorrowfully, "not any more. Yu' know well I'dgive it yu' if I had it. You and me didn't figure on this, did we, Pedro? Good-by!"

He hugged his pony again, and got as far as the bars of the pasture, butreturned once more. "Good-by, my little horse, my dear horse, my little, little Pedro, " he said, as his tears wet the pony's neck. Then hewiped them with his hand, and got himself back to the bunk house. Afterbreakfast he and his belongings departed to Drybone, and Pedro from hisfield calmly watched this departure; for horses must recognize even lessthan men the black corners that their destinies turn. The pony stoppedfeeding to look at the mail-wagon pass by; but the master sitting in thewagon forebore to turn his head. 

XXVI. BALAAM AND PEDRO

Resigned to wait for the Judge's horses, Balaam went into his officethis dry, bright morning and read nine accumulated newspapers; forhe was behindhand. Then he rode out on the ditches, and met his manreturning with the troublesome animals at last. He hastened home andsent for the Virginian. He had made a decision. 

"See here, " he said; "those horses are coming. What trail would you takeover to the Judge's?"

"Shortest trail's right through the Bow Laig Mountains, " said theforeman, in his gentle voice. 

"Guess you're right. It's dinner-time. We'll start right afterward. We'll make Little Muddy Crossing by sundown, and Sunk Creek to-morrow, and the next day'll see us through. Can a wagon get through Sunk CreekCanyon?"

The Virginian smiled. "I reckon it can't, seh, and stay resembling awagon. "

Balaam told them to saddle Pedro and one packhorse, and drive the bunchof horses into a corral, roping the Judge's two, who proved extremelywild. He had decided to take this journey himself on remembering certainpolitics soon to be rife in Cheyenne. For Judge Henry was indeed agreater man than Balaam. This personally conducted return of the horseswould temper its tardiness, and, moreover, the sight of some New Yorkvisitors would be a good thing after seven months of no warmer touchwith that metropolis than the Sunday HERALD, always eight days old whenit reached the Butte Creek Ranch. 

They forded Butte Creek, and, crossing the well-travelled trail whichfollows down to Drybone, turned their faces toward the uninhabitedcountry that began immediately, as the ocean begins off a sandy shore. And as a single mast on which no sail is shining stands at the horizonand seems to add a loneliness to the surrounding sea, so the long grayline of fence, almost a mile away, that ended Balaam's land on this sidethe creek, stretched along the waste ground and added desolation tothe plain. No solitary watercourse with margin of cottonwoods or willowthickets flowed here to stripe the dingy, yellow world with interruptinggreen, nor were cattle to be seen dotting the distance, nor movingobjects at all, nor any bird in the soundless air. The last gate wasshut by the Virginian, who looked back at the pleasant trees of theranch, and then followed on in single file across the alkali of No Man'sLand. 

No cloud was in the sky. The desert's grim noon shone sombrely on flatand hill. The sagebrush was dull like zinc. Thick heat rose near at handfrom the caked alkali, and pale heat shrouded the distant peaks. 

There were five horses. Balaam led on Pedro, his squat figure stiff inthe saddle, but solid as a rock, and tilted a little forward, as hishabit was. One of the Judge's horses came next, a sorrel, dragging backcontinually on the rope by which he was led. After him ambled Balaam'swise pack-animal, carrying the light burden of two days' food andlodging. She was an old mare who could still go when she chose, but hadbeen schooled by the years, and kept the trail, giving no trouble to theVirginian who came behind her. He also sat solid as a rock, yet subtlybending to the struggles of the wild horse he led, as a steel springbends and balances and resumes its poise. 

Thus they made but slow time, and when they topped the last dull rise ofground and looked down on the long slant of ragged, caked earth to thecrossing of Little Muddy, with its single tree and few mean bushes, thefinal distance where eyesight ends had deepened to violet from the thin, steady blue they had stared at for so many hours, and all heat wasgone from the universal dryness. The horses drank a long time from thesluggish yellow water, and its alkaline taste and warmth were equallywelcome to the men. They built a little fire, and when supper was ended, smoked but a short while and in silence, before they got in the blanketsthat were spread in a smooth place beside the water. 

They had picketed the two horses of the Judge in the best grass theycould find, letting the rest go free to find pasture where they could. When the first light came, the Virginian attended to breakfast, whileBalaam rode away on the sorrel to bring in the loose horses. They hadgone far out of sight, and when he returned with them, after some twohours, he was on Pedro. Pedro was soaking with sweat, and red frothcreamed from his mouth. The Virginian saw the horses must have been hardto drive in, especially after Balaam brought them the wild sorrel as aleader. 

"If you'd kep' ridin' him, 'stead of changin' off on your hawss, they'dhave behaved quieter, " said the foreman. 

"That's good seasonable advice, " said Balaam, sarcastically. "I couldhave told you that now. "

"I could have told you when you started, " said the Virginian, heatingthe coffee for Balaam. 

Balaam was eloquent on the outrageous conduct of the horses. He had comeup with them evidently striking back for Butte Creek, with the old marein the lead. 

"But I soon showed her the road she was to go, " he said, as he drovethem now to the water. 

The Virginian noticed the slight limp of the mare, and how her pasternwas cut as if with a stone or the sharp heel of a boot. 

"I guess she'll not be in a hurry to travel except when she's wantedto, " continued Balaam. He sat down, and sullenly poured himself somecoffee. "We'll be in luck if we make any Sunk Creek this night. "

He went on with his breakfast, thinking aloud for the benefit of hiscompanion, who made no comments, preferring silence to the discomfort oftalking with a man whose vindictive humor was so thoroughly uppermost. He did not even listen very attentively, but continued his preparationsfor departure, washing the dishes, rolling the blankets, and movingabout in his usual way of easy and visible good nature. 

"Six o'clock, already, " said Balaam, saddling the horses. "And we'llnot get started for ten minutes more. " Then he came to Pedro. "So youhaven't quit fooling yet, haven't you?" he exclaimed, for the ponyshrank as he lifted the bridle. "Take that for your sore mouth!" and herammed the bit in, at which Pedro flung back and reared. 

"Well, I never saw Pedro act that way yet, " said the Virginian. 

"Ah, rubbish!" said Balaam. "They're all the same. Not a bastard onebut's laying for his chance to do for you. Some'll buck you off, andsome'll roll with you, and some'll fight you with their fore feet. Theymay play good for a year, but the Western pony's man's enemy, and whenhe judges he's got his chance, he's going to do his best. And if youcome out alive it won't be his fault. " Balaam paused for a while, packing. "You've got to keep them afraid of you, " he said next; "that'swhat you've got to do if you don't want trouble. That Pedro horse therehas been fed, hand-fed, and fooled with like a damn pet, and what's thatpolicy done? Why, he goes ugly when he thinks it's time, and decideshe'll not drive any horses into camp this morning. He knows better now. "

"Mr. Balaam, " said the Virginian, "I'll buy that hawss off yu' rightnow. "

Balaam shook his head. "You'll not do that right now or any other time, "said he. "I happen to want him. "

The Virginian could do no more. He had heard cow-punchers say torefractory ponies, "You keep still, or I'll Balaam you!" and he nowunderstood the aptness of the expression. 

Meanwhile Balaam began to lead Pedro to the creek for a last drinkbefore starting across the torrid drought. The horse held back on therein a little, and Balaam turned and cut the whip across his forehead. A delay of forcing and backing followed, while the Virginian, alreadyin the saddle, waited. The minutes passed, and no immediate prospect, apparently, of getting nearer Sunk Creek. 

"He ain' goin' to follow you while you're beatin' his haid, " theSoutherner at length remarked. 

"Do you think you can teach me anything about horses?" retorted Balaam. 

"Well, it don't look like I could, " said the Virginian, lazily. 

"Then don't try it, so long as it's not your horse, my friend. "

Again the Southerner levelled his eye on Balaam. "All right, " he said, in the same gentle voice. "And don't you call me your friend. You'vemade that mistake twiced. "

The road was shadeless, as it had been from the start, and they couldnot travel fast. During the first few hours all coolness was driven outof the glassy morning, and another day of illimitable sun invested theworld with its blaze. The pale Bow Leg Range was coming nearer, but itshard hot slants and rifts suggested no sort of freshness, and eventhe pines that spread for wide miles along near the summit counted fornothing in the distance and the glare, but seemed mere patches of dulldry discoloration. No talk was exchanged between the two travellers, forthe cow-puncher had nothing to say and Balaam was sulky, so they movedalong in silent endurance of each other's company and the tedium of thejourney. 

But the slow succession of rise and fall in the plain changed andshortened. The earth's surface became lumpy, rising into mounds andknotted systems of steep small hills cut apart by staring gashes ofsand, where water poured in the spring from the melting snow. After atime they ascended through the foot-hills till the plain below was for awhile concealed, but came again into view in its entirety, distant and athing of the past, while some magpies sailed down to meet them fromthe new country they were entering. They passed up through a smalltransparent forest of dead trees standing stark and white, and a littlehigher came on a line of narrow moisture that crossed the way and formeda stale pool among some willow thickets. They turned aside to watertheir horses, and found near the pool a circular spot of ashes and somepoles lying, and beside these a cage-like edifice of willow wands builtin the ground. 

"Indian camp, " observed the Virginian. 

There were the tracks of five or six horses on the farther side of thepool, and they did not come into the trail, but led off among the rockson some system of their own. 

"They're about a week old, " said Balaam. "It's part of that outfitthat's been hunting. "

"They've gone on to visit their friends, " added the cow-puncher. 

"Yes, on the Southern Reservation. How far do you call Sunk Creek now?"

"Well, " said the Virginian, calculating, "it's mighty nigh fo'ty milesfrom Muddy Crossin', an' I reckon we've come eighteen. "

"Just about. It's noon. " Balaam snapped his watch shut. "We'll rest heretill 12:30. "

When it was time to go, the Virginian looked musingly at the mountains. "We'll need to travel right smart to get through the canyon to-night, "he said. 

"Tell you what, " said Balaam; "we'll rope the Judge's horses togetherand drive 'em in front of us. That'll make speed. "

"Mightn't they get away on us?" objected the Virginian. "They're pow'fulwild. "

"They can't get away from me, I guess, " said Balaam, and the arrangementwas adopted. "We're the first this season over this piece of the trail, "he observed presently. 

His companion had noticed the ground already, and assented. There wereno tracks anywhere to be seen over which winter had not come and gonesince they had been made. Presently the trail wound into a sultry gulchthat hemmed in the heat and seemed to draw down the sun's rays morevertically. The sorrel horse chose this place to make a try for liberty. He suddenly whirled from the trail, dragging with him his less inventivefellow. Leaving the Virginian with the old mare, Balaam headed them off, for Pedro was quick, and they came jumping down the bank together, butswiftly crossed up on the other side, getting much higher before theycould be reached. It was no place for this sort of game, as the sides ofthe ravine were ploughed with steep channels, broken with jutting knobsof rock, and impeded by short twisted pines that swung out from theirroots horizontally over the pitch of the hill. The Virginian helped, but used his horse with more judgment, keeping as much on the level aspossible, and endeavoring to anticipate the next turn of the runawaysbefore they made it, while Balaam attempted to follow them close, wheeling short when they doubled, heavily beating up the face of theslope, veering again to come down to the point he had left, and wheneverhe felt Pedro begin to flag, driving his spurs into the horse andforcing him to keep up the pace. He had set out to overtake and captureon the side of the mountain these two animals who had been runningwild for many weeks, and now carried no weight but themselves, andthe futility of such work could not penetrate his obstinate and risingtemper. He had made up his mind not to give in. The Virginian soondecided to move slowly along for the present, preventing the wild horsesfrom passing down the gulch again, but otherwise saving his own animalfrom useless fatigue. He saw that Pedro was reeking wet, with mouthopen, and constantly stumbling, though he galloped on. The cow-puncherkept the group in sight, driving the packhorse in front of him, andwatching the tactics of the sorrel, who had now undoubtedly becomethe leader of the expedition, and was at the top of the gulch, in vaintrying to find an outlet through its rocky rim to the levels above. Hesoon judged this to be no thoroughfare, and changing his plan, trotteddown to the bottom and up the other side, gaining more and more; forin this new descent Pedro had fallen twice. Then the sorrel showed thecleverness of a genuinely vicious horse. The Virginian saw him stopand fall to kicking his companion with all the energy that a short ropewould permit. The rope slipped, and both, unencumbered, reached the topand disappeared. Leaving the packhorse for Balaam, the Virginian startedafter them and came into a high tableland, beyond which the mountainsbegan in earnest. The runaways were moving across toward these at aneasy rate. He followed for a moment, then looking back, and seeing nosign of Balaam, waited, for the horses were sure not to go fast whenthey reached good pasture or water. 

He got out of the saddle and sat on the ground, watching, till the marecame up slowly into sight, and Balaam behind her. When they were near, Balaam dismounted and struck Pedro fearfully, until the stick broke, andhe raised the splintered half to continue. 

Seeing the pony's condition, the Virginian spoke, and said, "I'd letthat hawss alone. "

Balaam turned to him, but wholly possessed by passion did not seem tohear, and the Southerner noticed how white and like that of a maniac hisface was. The stick slid to the ground. 

"He played he was tired, " said Balaam, looking at the Virginian withglazed eyes. The violence of his rage affected him physically, like somestroke of illness. "He played out on me on purpose. " The man's voicewas dry and light. "He's perfectly fresh now, " he continued, and turnedagain to the coughing, swaying horse, whose eyes were closed. Not havingthe stick, he seized the animal's unresisting head and shook it. TheVirginian watched him a moment, and rose to stop such a spectacle. Then, as if conscious he was doing no real hurt, Balaam ceased, and turningagain in slow fashion looked across the level, where the runaways werestill visible. 

"I'll have to take your horse, " he said, "mine's played out on me. "

"You ain' goin' to touch my hawss. "

Again the words seemed not entirely to reach Balaam's understanding, sodulled by rage were his senses. He made no answer, but mounted Pedro;and the failing pony walked mechanically forward, while the Virginian, puzzled, stood looking after him. Balaam seemed without purpose of goinganywhere, and stopped in a moment. Suddenly he was at work at something. This sight was odd and new to look at. For a few seconds it had nomeaning to the Virginian as he watched. Then his mind grasped thehorror, too late. Even with his cry of execration and the tiger springthat he gave to stop Balaam, the monstrosity was wrought. Pedro sankmotionless, his head rolling flat on the earth. Balaam was jammedbeneath him. The man had struggled to his feet before the Virginianreached the spot, and the horse then lifted his head and turned itpiteously round. 

Then vengeance like a blast struck Balaam. The Virginian hurled him tothe ground, lifted and hurled him again, lifted him and beat his faceand struck his jaw. The man's strong ox-like fighting availed nothing. He fended his eyes as best he could against these sledge-hammer blowsof justice. He felt blindly for his pistol. That arm was caught andwrenched backward, and crushed and doubled. He seemed to hear his ownbones, and set up a hideous screaming of hate and pain. Then thepistol at last came out, and together with the hand that grasped it wasinstantly stamped into the dust. Once again the creature was lifted andslung so that he lay across Pedro's saddle a blurred, dingy, wet pulp. 

Vengeance had come and gone. The man and the horse were motionless. Around them, silence seemed to gather like a witness. 

"If you are dead, " said the Virginian, "I am glad of it. " He stoodlooking down at Balaam and Pedro, prone in the middle of the opentableland. Then he saw Balaam looking at him. It was the quiet stare ofsight without thought or feeling, the mere visual sense alone, almostfrightful in its separation from any self. But as he watched thoseeyes, the self came back into them. "I have not killed you, " said theVirginian. "Well, I ain't goin' to do any more to yu'--if that's asatisfaction to know. "

Then he began to attend to Balaam with impersonal skill, like some onehired for the purpose. "He ain't hurt bad, " he asserted aloud, as ifthe man were some nameless patient; and then to Balaam he remarked, "Ireckon it might have put a less tough man than you out of business forquite a while. I'm goin' to get some water now. " When he returned withthe water, Balsam was sitting up, looking about him. He had not yetspoken, nor did he now speak. The sunlight flashed on the six-shooterwhere it lay, and the Virginian secured it. "She ain't so pretty as shewas, " he remarked, as he examined the weapon. "But she'll go right handyyet. "

Strength was in a measure returning to Pedro. He was a young horse, and the exhaustion neither of anguish nor of over-riding was enoughto affect him long or seriously. He got himself on his feet and walkedwaveringly over to the old mare, and stood by her for comfort. Thecow-puncher came up to him, and Pedro, after starting back slightly, seemed to comprehend that he was in friendly hands. It was plain that hewould soon be able to travel slowly if no weight was on him, and that hewould be a very good horse again. Whether they abandoned the runaways ornot, there was no staying here for night to overtake them without foodor water. The day was still high, and what its next few hours had instore the Virginian could not say, and he left them to take care ofthemselves, determining meanwhile that he would take command of theminutes and maintain the position he had assumed both as to Balaam andPedro. He took Pedro's saddle off, threw the mare's pack to the ground, put Balaam's saddle on her, and on that stowed or tied her originalpack, which he could do, since it was so light. Then he went to Balaam, who was sitting up. 

"I reckon you can travel, " said the Virginian. "And your hawss can. Ifyou're comin' with me, you'll ride your mare. I'm goin' to trail themhawsses. If you're not comin' with me, your hawss comes with me, andyou'll take fifty dollars for him. "

Balaam was indifferent to this good bargain. He did not look at theother or speak, but rose and searched about him on the ground. TheVirginian was also indifferent as to whether Balaam chose to answer ornot. Seeing Balaam searching the ground, he finished what he had to say. 

"I have your six-shooter, and you'll have it when I'm ready for you to. Now, I'm goin', " he concluded. 

Balaam's intellect was clear enough now, and he saw that though the restof this journey would be nearly intolerable, it must go on. He lookedat the impassive cow-puncher getting ready to go and tying a rope onPedro's neck to lead him, then he looked at the mountains where therunaways had vanished, and it did not seem credible to him that he hadcome into such straits. He was helped stiffly on the mare, and the threehorses in single file took up their journey once more, and came slowlyamong the mountains The perpetual desert was ended, and they crossed asmall brook, where they missed the trail. The Virginian dismounted tofind where the horses had turned off, and discovered that they had gonestraight up the ridge by the watercourse. 

"There's been a man camped in hyeh inside a month, " he said, kicking upa rag of red flannel. "White man and two hawsses. Ours have went up hisold tracks. "

It was not easy for Balaam to speak yet, and he kept his silence. But heremembered that Shorty had spoken of a trapper who had started for SunkCreek. 

For three hours they followed the runaways' course over softer ground, and steadily ascending, passed one or two springs, at length, wherethe mud was not yet settled in the hoofprints. Then they came througha corner of pine forest and down a sudden bank among quaking-asps to agreen park. Here the runaways beside a stream were grazing at ease, butsaw them coming, and started on again, following down the stream. For the present all to be done was to keep them in sight. This creekreceived tributaries and widened, making a valley for itself. Abovethe bottom, lining the first terrace of the ridge, began the pines, andstretched back, unbroken over intervening summit and basin, to cease atlast where the higher peaks presided. 

"This hyeh's the middle fork of Sunk Creek, " said the Virginian. "We'llget on to our right road again where they join. "

Soon a game trail marked itself along the stream. If this would onlycontinue, the runaways would be nearly sure to follow it down into thecanyon. Then there would be no way for them but to go on and come outinto their own country, where they would make for the Judge's ranch oftheir own accord. The great point was to reach the canyon before dark. They passed into permanent shadow; for though the other side ofthe creek shone in full day, the sun had departed behind the ridgesimmediately above them. Coolness filled the air, and the silence, whichin this deep valley of invading shadow seemed too silent, was relievedby the birds. Not birds of song, but a freakish band of gray talkativeobservers, who came calling and croaking along through the pines, andinspected the cavalcade, keeping it company for a while, and then flyingup into the woods again. The travellers came round a corner on a littlespread of marsh, and from somewhere in the middle of it rose a buzzardand sailed on its black pinions into the air above them, wheelingand wheeling, but did not grow distant. As it swept over the trail, something fell from its claw, a rag of red flannel; and each man in turnlooked at it as his horse went by. 

"I wonder if there's plenty elk and deer hyeh?" said the Virginian. 

"I guess there is, " Balaam replied, speaking at last. The travellers hadbecome strangely reconciled. 

"There's game 'most all over these mountains, " the Virginian continued;"country not been settled long enough to scare them out. " So they fellinto casual conversation, and for the first time were glad of eachother's company. 

The sound of a new bird came from the pines above--the hoot of anowl--and was answered from some other part of the wood. This they didnot particularly notice at first, but soon they heard the same note, unexpectedly distant, like an echo. The game trail, now quite a definedpath beside the river, showed no sign of changing its course or fadingout into blank ground, as these uncertain guides do so often. It ledconsistently in the desired direction, and the two men were relieved tosee it continue. Not only were the runaways easier to keep track of, but better speed was made along this valley. The pervading imminence ofnight more and more dispelled the lingering afternoon, though there wasyet no twilight in the open, and the high peaks opposite shone yellowin the invisible sun. But now the owls hooted again. Their music hadsomething in it that caused both the Virginian and Balaam to look up atthe pines and wish that this valley would end. Perhaps it was early fornight-birds to begin; or perhaps it was that the sound never seemed tofall behind, but moved abreast of them among the trees above, as theyrode on without pause down below; some influence made the faces of thetravellers grave. The spell of evil which the sight of the wheelingbuzzard had begun, deepened as evening grew, while ever and again alongthe creek the singular call and answer of the owls wandered among thedarkness of the trees not far away. 

The sun was gone from the peaks when at length the other side of thestream opened into a long wide meadow. The trail they followed, aftercrossing a flat willow thicket by the water, ran into dense pines, thathere for the first time reached all the way down to the water's edge. The two men came out of the willows, and saw ahead the capriciousrunaways leave the bottom and go up the hill and enter the wood. 

"We must hinder that, " said the Virginian; and he dropped Pedro's rope. "There's your six-shooter. You keep the trail, and camp down there"--hepointed to where the trees came to the water--"till I head them hawssesoff. I may not get back right away. " He galloped up the open hilland went into the pine, choosing a place above where the vagrants haddisappeared. 

Balaam dismounted, and picking up his six-shooter, took the rope offPedro's neck and drove him slowly down toward where the wood began. Its interior was already dim, and Balaam saw that here must be theirstopping-place to-night, since there was no telling how wide this pinestrip might extend along the trail before they could come out of it andreach another suitable camping-ground. Pedro had recovered his strength, and he now showed signs of restlessness. He shied where there was noteven a stone in the trail, and finally turned sharply round. Balaamexpected he was going to rush back on the way they had come; but thehorse stood still, breathing excitedly. He was urged forward again, though he turned more than once. But when they were a few paces from thewood, and Balaam had got off preparatory to camping, the horse snortedand dashed into the water, and stood still there. The astonished Balaamfollowed to turn him; but Pedro seemed to lose control of himself, and plunged to the middle of the river, and was evidently intending tocross. Fearing that he would escape to the opposite meadow and add totheir difficulties, Balaam, with the idea of turning him round, drew hissix-shooter and fired in front of the horse, divining, even as the flashcut the dusk, the secret of all this--the Indians; but too late. Hisbruised hand had stiffened, marring his aim, and he saw Pedro fall overin the water then rise and struggle up the bank on the farther shore, where he now hurried also, to find that he had broken the pony's leg. 

He needed no interpreter for the voices of the seeming owls that hadhaunted the latter hour of their journey, and he knew that his beast'skeener instinct had perceived the destruction that lurked in theinterior of the wood. The history of the trapper whose horse hadreturned without him might have been--might still be--his own; and hethought of the rag that had fallen from the buzzard's talons when he hadbeen disturbed at his meal in the marsh. "Peaceable" Indians were stillin these mountains, and some few of them had for the past hour beenskirting his journey unseen, and now waited for him in the wood whichthey expected him to enter. They had been too wary to use their riflesor show themselves, lest these travellers should be only part of alarger company following, who would hear the noise of a shot, and catchthem in the act of murder. So, safe under the cover of the pines, theyhad planned to sling their silent noose, and drag the white man from hishorse as he passed through the trees. 

Balaam looked over the river at the ominous wood, and then he lookedat Pedro, the horse that he had first maimed and now ruined, to whom heprobably owed his life. He was lying on the ground, quietly looking overthe green meadow, where dusk was gathering. Perhaps he was not sufferingfrom his wound yet, as he rested on the ground; and into his animalintelligence there probably came no knowledge of this final stroke ofhis fate. At any rate, no sound of pain came from Pedro, whose friendlyand gentle face remained turned toward the meadow. Once more Balaamfired his pistol, and this time the aim was true, and the horse rolledover, with a ball through his brain. It was the best reward thatremained for him. 

Then Balaam rejoined the old mare, and turned from the middle fork ofSunk Creek. He dashed across the wide field, and went over a ridge, andfound his way along in the night till he came to the old trail--theroad which they would never have left but for him and his obstinacy. Heunsaddled the weary mare by Sunk Creek, where the canyon begins, lettingher drag a rope and find pasture and water, while he, lighting no fireto betray him, crouched close under a tree till the light came. Hethought of the Virginian in the wood. But what could either have donefor the other had he stayed to look for him among the pines? If thecow-puncher came back to the corner, he would follow Balaam's tracks ornot. They would meet, at any rate, where the creeks joined. 

But they did not meet. And then to Balaam the prospect of going onwardto the Sunk Creek Ranch became more than he could bear. To come withoutthe horses, to meet Judge Henry, to meet the guests of the Judge's, looking as he did now after his punishment by the Virginian, to give thenews about the Judge's favorite man--no, how could he tell such a storyas this? Balaam went no farther than a certain cabin, where he slept, and wrote a letter to the Judge. This the owner of the cabin delivered. And so, having spread news which would at once cause a search for theVirginian, and having constructed such sentences to the Judge as wouldmost smoothly explain how, being overtaken by illness, he had not wishedto be a burden at Sunk Creek, Balaam turned homeward by himself. By thetime he was once more at Butte Creek, his general appearance was a thingless to be noticed. And there was Shorty, waiting!

One way and another, the lost dog had been able to gather some readymoney. He was cheerful because of this momentary purseful of prosperity. 

"And so I come back, yu' see, " he said. "For I figured on getting Pedroback as soon as I could when I sold him to yu'. "

"You're behind the times, Shorty, " said Balaam. 

Shorty looked blank. "You've sure not sold Pedro?" he exclaimed. 

"Them Indians, " said Balaam, "got after me on the Bow Leg trail. Gotafter me and that Virginia man. But they didn't get me. "

Balaam wagged his bullet head to imply that this escape was due to hisown superior intelligence. The Virginian had been stupid, and so theIndians had got him. "And they shot your horse, " Balaam finished. "Stopand get some dinner with the boys. "

Having eaten, Shorty rode away in mournful spirits. For he had made sosure of once more riding and talking with Pedro, his friend whom he hadtaught to shake hands. 

XXVII. GRANDMOTHER STARK

Except for its chair and bed, the cabin was stripped almost bare. Amidits emptiness of dismantled shelves and walls and floor, only the tinyancestress still hung in her place, last token of the home that hadbeen. This miniature, tacked against the despoiled boards, and itsdescendant, the angry girl with her hand on an open box-lid, made a sortof couple in the loneliness: she on the wall sweet and serene, she bythe box sweet and stormy. The picture was her final treasure waiting tobe packed for the journey. In whatever room she had called her ownsince childhood, there it had also lived and looked at her, not quitefamiliar, not quite smiling, but in its prim colonial hues delicate assome pressed flower. Its pale oval, of color blue and rose andflaxen, in a battered, pretty gold frame, unconquerably pervaded anysurroundings with a something like last year's lavender. Till yesterdaya Crow Indian war-bonnet had hung next it, a sumptuous cascade offeathers; on the other side a bow with arrows had dangled; opposite hadbeen the skin of a silver fox; over the door had spread the antlers ofa black-tail deer; a bearskin stretched beneath it. Thus had the wholecosey log cabin been upholstered, lavish with trophies of the frontier;and yet it was in front of the miniature that the visitors used to stop. 

Shining quietly now in the cabin's blackness this summer day, theheirloom was presiding until the end. And as Molly Wood's eyes fell uponher ancestress of Bennington, 1777, there flashed a spark of steel inthem, alone here in the room that she was leaving forever. She was notgoing to teach school any more on Bear Creek, Wyoming; she was goinghome to Bennington, Vermont. When time came for school to open again, there should be a new schoolmarm. 

This was the momentous result of that visit which the Virginian had paidher. He had told her that he was coming for his hour soon. From thathour she had decided to escape. She was running away from her own heart. She did not dare to trust herself face to face again with her potent, indomitable lover. She longed for him, and therefore she would never seehim again. No great-aunt at Dunbarton, or anybody else that knew her andher family, should ever say that she had married below her station, hadbeen an unworthy Stark! Accordingly, she had written to the Virginian, bidding him good-by, and wishing him everything in the world. As shehappened to be aware that she was taking everything in the world awayfrom him, this letter was not the most easy of letters to write. Butshe had made the language very kind. Yes; it was a thoroughly kindcommunication. And all because of that momentary visit, when he hadbrought back to her two novels, EMMA and PRIDE AND PREJUDICE. 

"How do you like them?" she had then inquired; and he had smiled slowlyat her. "You haven't read them!" she exclaimed. 

"No. "

"Are you going to tell me there has been no time?"

"No. "

Then Molly had scolded her cow-puncher, and to this he had listened withpleasure undisguised, as indeed he listened to every word that she said. 

"Why, it has come too late, " he had told her when the scolding was over. "If I was one of your little scholars hyeh in Bear Creek schoolhouse, yu' could learn me to like such frillery I reckon. But I'm a mightyignorant, growed-up man. "

"So much the worse for you!" said Molly. 

"No. I am pretty glad I am a man. Else I could not have learned thething you have taught me. "

But she shut her lips and looked away. On the desk was a letter writtenfrom Vermont. "If you don't tell me at once when you decide, " had saidthe arch writer, "never hope to speak to me again. Mary Wood, seriously, I am suspicious. Why do you never mention him nowadays? How excitingto have you bring a live cow-boy to Bennington! We should all cometo dinner. Though of course I understand now that many of them haveexcellent manners. But would he wear his pistol at table?" So the letterran on. It recounted the latest home gossip and jokes. In answering itMolly Wood had taken no notice of its childish tone here and there. 

"Hyeh's some of them cactus blossoms yu' wanted, " said the Virginian. His voice recalled the girl with almost a start. "I've brought a goodhawss I've gentled for yu', and Taylor'll keep him till I need him. "

"Thank you so much! but I wish--"

"I reckon yu' can't stop me lendin' Taylor a hawss. And you cert'nly'llget sick schoolteachin' if yu' don't keep outdoors some. Good-by--tillthat next time. "

"Yes; there's always a next time, " she answered, as lightly as shecould. 

"There always will be. Don't yu' know that?"

She did not reply. 

"I have discouraged spells, " he pursued, "but I down them. For I've toldyu' you were going to love me. You are goin' to learn back the thing youhave taught me. I'm not askin' anything now; I don't want you to speak aword to me. But I'm never goin' to quit till 'next time' is no more, andit's 'all the time' for you and me. "

With that he had ridden away, not even touching her hand. Long afterhe had gone she was still In her chair, her eyes lingering upon hisflowers, those yellow cups of the prickly pear. At length she hadrisen impatiently, caught up the flowers, gone with them to the openwindow, -and then, after all, set them with pains in water. 

But to-day Bear Creek was over. She was going home now. By the week'send she would be started. By the time the mail brought him her good-byletter she would be gone. She had acted. 

To Bear Creek, the neighborly, the friendly, the not comprehending, thismove had come unlooked for, and had brought regret. Only one hard wordhad been spoken to Molly, and that by her next-door neighbor and kindestfriend. In Mrs. Taylor's house the girl had daily come and gone asa daughter, and that lady reached the subject thus:-- "When I tookTaylor, " said she, sitting by as Robert Browning and Jane Austen weregoing into their box, "I married for love. "

"Do you wish it had been money?" said Molly, stooping to her industries. 

"You know both of us better than that, child. "

"I know I've seen people at home who couldn't possibly have had anyother reason. They seemed satisfied, too. "

"Maybe the poor ignorant things were!"

"And so I have never been sure how I might choose. "

"Yes, you are sure, deary. Don't you think I know you? And when it comesover Taylor once in a while, and he tells me I'm the best thing in hislife, and I tell him he ain't merely the best thing but the only thingin mine, --him and the children, --why, we just agree we'd do it all overthe same way if we had the chance. "

Molly continued to be industrious. 

"And that's why, " said Mrs. Taylor, "I want every girl that's anythingto me to know her luck when it comes. For I was that near telling TaylorI wouldn't!"

"If ever my luck comes, " said Molly, with her back to her friend, "Ishall say 'I will' at once. "

"Then you'll say it at Bennington next week. "

Molly wheeled round. 

"Why, you surely will. Do you expect he's going to stay here, and you inBennington?" And the campaigner sat back in her chair. 

"He? Goodness! Who is he?"

"Child, child, you're talking cross to-day because you're at outs withyourself. You've been at outs ever since you took this idea of leavingthe school and us and everything this needless way. You have not treatedhim right. And why, I can't make out to save me. What have you found outall of a sudden? If he was not good enough for you, I--But, oh, it's aprime one you're losing, Molly. When a man like that stays faithful to agirl 'spite all the chances he gets, her luck is come. "

"Oh, my luck! People have different notions of luck. "

"Notions!"

"He has been very kind. "

"Kind!" And now without further simmering, Mrs. Taylor's wrath boiledup and poured copiously over Molly Wood. "Kind! There's a word youshouldn't use, my dear. No doubt you can spell it. But more than itsspelling I guess you don't know. The children can learn what it meansfrom some of the rest of us folks that don't spell so correct, maybe. "

"Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Taylor--"

"I can't wait, deary. Since the roughness looks bigger to you than thediamond, you had better go back to Vermont. I expect you'll find bettergrammar there, deary. "

The good dame stalked out, and across to her own cabin, and left theangry girl among her boxes. It was in vain she fell to work upon them. Presently something had to be done over again, and when it was the boxheld several chattels less than before the readjustment. She played asort of desperate dominos to fit these objects in the space, but herewere a paper-weight, a portfolio, with two wretched volumes that nochink would harbor; and letting them fall all at once, she straightenedherself, still stormy with revolt, eyes and cheeks still hot fromthe sting of long-parried truth. There, on her wall still, was theminiature, the little silent ancestress; and upon this face the girl'sglance rested. It was as if she appealed to Grandmother Stark forsupport and comfort across the hundred years which lay between them. Sothe flaxen girl on the wall and she among the boxes stood a moment faceto face in seeming communion, and then the descendant turned again toher work. But after a desultory touch here and there she drew a longbreath and walked to the open door. What use was in finishing to-day, when she had nearly a week? This first spurt of toil had swept the cabinbare of all indwelling charm, and its look was chill. Across the lanehis horse, the one he had "gentled" for her, was grazing idly. Shewalked there and caught him, and led him to her gate. Mrs. Taylor sawher go in, and soon come out in riding-dress; and she watched the girlthrow the saddle on with quick ease--the ease he had taught her. Mrs. Taylor also saw the sharp cut she gave the horse, and laughed grimlyto herself in her window as horse and rider galloped into the beautifulsunny loneliness. 

To the punished animal this switching was new! and at its thirdrepetition he turned his head in surprise, but was no more heeded thanwere the bluffs and flowers where he was taking his own undirectedchoice of way. He carried her over ground she knew by heart--CorncliffMesa, Crowheart Butte, Westfall's Crossing, Upper Canyon; open land andwoodland, pines and sage-brush, all silent and grave and lustrous in thesunshine. Once and again a ranchman greeted her, and wondered if shehad forgotten who he was; once she passed some cow-punchers with a smallherd of steers, and they stared after her too. Bear Creek narrowed, itsmountain-sides drew near, its little falls began to rush white in middayshadow, and the horse suddenly pricked his ears. Unguided, he was takingthis advantage to go home. Though he had made but little way--a merebeginning yet--on this trail over to Sunk Creek, here was already aSunk Creek friend whinnying good day to him, so he whinnied back andquickened his pace, and Molly started to life. What was Monte doinghere? She saw the black horse she knew also, saddled, with reinsdragging on the trail as the rider had dropped them to dismount. A coldspring bubbled out beyond the next rock, and she knew her lover's horsewas waiting for him while he drank. She pulled at the reins, but loosedthem, for to turn and escape now was ridiculous; and riding boldly roundthe rock, she came upon him by the spring. One of his arms hung up toits elbow in the pool, the other was crooked beside his head, but theface was sunk downward against the shelving rock, so that she saw onlyhis black, tangled hair. As her horse snorted and tossed his head shelooked swiftly at Monte, as if to question him. Seeing now the sweatmatted on his coat, and noting the white rim of his eye, she sprang andran to the motionless figure. A patch of blood at his shoulder behindstained the soft flannel shirt, spreading down beneath his belt, and theman's whole strong body lay slack and pitifully helpless. 

She touched the hand beside his head, but it seemed neither warm norcold to her; she felt for the pulse, as nearly as she could remember thedoctors did, but could not tell whether she imagined or not that it wasstill; twice with painful care her fingers sought and waited for thebeat, and her face seemed like one of listening. She leaned down andlifted his other arm and hand from the water, and as their ice-coldnessreached her senses, clearly she saw the patch near the shoulder shehad moved grow wet with new blood, and at that sight she grasped at thestones upon which she herself now sank. She held tight by two rocks, sitting straight beside him, staring, and murmuring aloud, "I mustnot faint; I will not faint;" and the standing horses looked at her, pricking their ears. 

In this cup-like spread of the ravine the sun shone warmly down, thetall red cliff was warm, the pines were a warm film and filter of green;outside the shade across Bear Creek rose the steep, soft, open yellowhill, warm and high to the blue, and Bear Creek tumbled upon itssunsparkling stones. The two horses on the margin trail still lookedat the spring and trees, where sat the neat flaxen girl so rigid by theslack prone body in its flannel shirt and leathern chaps. Suddenly herface livened. "But the blood ran!" she exclaimed, as if to the horses, her companions in this. She moved to him, and put her hand in throughhis shirt against his heart. 

Next moment she had sprung up and was at his saddle, searching, thenswiftly went on to her own and got her small flask and was back besidehim. Here was the cold water he had sought, and she put it against hisforehead and drenched the wounded shoulder with it. Three times shetried to move him, so he might lie more easy, but his dead weight wastoo much, and desisting, she sat close and raised his head to let itrest against her. Thus she saw the blood that was running from in frontof the shoulder also; but she said no more about fainting. She torestrips from her dress and soaked them, keeping them cold and wet uponboth openings of his wound, and she drew her pocket-knife out and cuthis shirt away from the place. As she continually rinsed and cleanedit, she watched his eyelashes, long and soft and thick, but they did notstir. Again she tried the flask, but failed from being still too gentle, and her searching eyes fell upon ashes near the pool. Still undispersedby the weather lay the small charred ends of a fire he and she had madeonce here together, to boil coffee and fry trout. She built another firenow, and when the flames were going well, filled her flask-cup from thespring and set it to heat. Meanwhile, she returned to nurse his headand wound. Her cold water had stopped the bleeding. Then she pouredher brandy in the steaming cup, and, made rough by her desperatehelplessness, forced some between his lips and teeth. 

Instantly, almost, she felt the tremble of life creeping back, andas his deep eyes opened upon her she sat still and mute. But the gazeseemed luminous with an unnoting calm, and she wondered if perhaps hecould not recognize her; she watched this internal clearness of hisvision, scarcely daring to breathe, until presently he began to speak, with the same profound and clear impersonality sounding in his slowlyuttered words. 

"I thought they had found me. I expected they were going to kill me. "He stopped, and she gave him more of the hot drink, which he took, stilllying and looking at her as if the present did not reach his senses. "Iknew hands were touching me. I reckon I was not dead. I knew about themsoon as they began, only I could not interfere. " He waited again. "It ismighty strange where I have been. No. Mighty natural. " Then he went backinto his revery, and lay with his eyes still full open upon her whereshe sat motionless. 

She began to feel a greater awe in this living presence than when ithad been his body with an ice-cold hand; and she quietly spoke his name, venturing scarcely more than a whisper. 

At this, some nearer thing wakened in his look. "But it was you allalong, " he resumed. "It is you now. You must not stay--" Weaknessovercame him, and his eyes closed. She sat ministering to him, and whenhe roused again, he began anxiously at once: "You must not stay. Theywould get you, too. "

She glanced at him with a sort of fierceness, then reached for hispistol, in which was nothing but blackened empty cartridges. She threwthese out and drew six from his belt, loaded the weapon, and snappedshut its hinge. 

"Please take it, " he said, more anxious and more himself. "I ain't worthtryin' to keep. Look at me!"

"Are you giving up?" she inquired, trying to put scorn in her tone. Thenshe seated herself. 

"Where is the sense in both of us--"

"You had better save your strength, " she interrupted. 

He tried to sit up. 

"Lie down!" she ordered. 

He sank obediently, and began to smile. 

When she saw that, she smiled too, and unexpectedly took his hand. "Listen, friend, " said she. "Nobody shall get you, and nobody shall getme. Now take some more brandy. "

"It must be noon, " said the cow-puncher, when she had drawn her handaway from him. "I remember it was dark when--when--when I can remember. I reckon they were scared to follow me in so close to settlers. Elsethey would have been here. "

"You must rest, " she observed. 

She broke the soft ends of some evergreen, and putting them beneath hishead, went to the horses, loosened the cinches, took off the bridles, led them to drink, and picketed them to feed. Further still, to leavenothing undone which she could herself manage, she took the horses'saddles off to refold the blankets when the time should come, andmeanwhile brought them for him. But he put them away from him. He wassitting up against a rock, stronger evidently, and asking for coldwater. His head was fire-hot, and the paleness beneath his swarthy skinhad changed to a deepening flush. 

"Only five miles!" she said to him, bathing his head. 

"Yes. I must hold it steady, " he answered, waving his hand at the cliff. 

She told him to try and keep it steady until they got home. 

"Yes, " he repeated. "Only five miles. But it's fightin' to turn around. "Half aware that he was becoming light-headed, he looked from the rock toher and from her to the rock with dilating eyes. 

"We can hold it together, " she said. "You must get on your horse. " Shetook his handkerchief from round his neck, knotting it with her own, andto make more bandage she ran to the roll of clothes behind his saddleand tore in halves a clean shirt. A handkerchief fell from it, whichshe seized also, and opening, saw her own initials by the hem. Then sheremembered: she saw again their first meeting, the swollen river, theoverset stage, the unknown horseman who carried her to the bank on hissaddle and went away unthanked--her whole first adventure on thatfirst day of her coming to this new country--and now she knew how herlong-forgotten handkerchief had gone that day. She refolded it gentlyand put it back in his bundle, for there was enough bandage without it. She said not a word to him, and he placed a wrong meaning upon the lookwhich she gave him as she returned to bind his shoulder. 

"It don't hurt so much, " he assured her (though extreme pain wasclearing his head for the moment, and he had been able to hold the clifffrom turning). "Yu' must not squander your pity. "

"Do not squander your strength, " said she. 

"Oh, I could put up a pretty good fight now!" But he tottered in showingher how strong he was, and she told him that, after all, he was a childstill. 

"Yes, " he slowly said, looking after her as she went to bring his horse, "the same child that wanted to touch the moon, I guess. " And during theslow climb down into the saddle from a rock to which she helped him hesaid, "You have got to be the man all through this mess. "

She saw his teeth clinched and his drooping muscles compelled by will;and as he rode and she walked to lend him support, leading her horseby a backward-stretched left hand, she counted off the distance to himcontinually--the increasing gain, the lessening road, the landmarksnearing and dropping behind; here was the tree with the wasp-nest gone;now the burned cabin was passed; now the cottonwoods at the ford were insight. He was silent, and held to the saddle-horn, leaning more and moreagainst his two hands clasped over it; and just after they had made thecrossing he fell, without a sound slipping to the grass, and his descentbroken by her. But it started the blood a little, and she dared notleave him to seek help. She gave him the last of the flask and all thewater he craved. 

Revived, he managed to smile. "Yu' see, I ain't worth keeping. "

"It's only a mile, " said she. So she found a log, a fallen trunk, and hecrawled to that, and from there crawled to his saddle, and she marchedon with him, talking, bidding him note the steps accomplished. For thenext half-mile they went thus, the silent man clinched on the horse, andby his side the girl walking and cheering him forward, when suddenly hebegan to speak:-- "I will say good-by to you now, ma'am. "

She did not understand, at first, the significance of this. 

"He is getting away, " pursued the Virginian. "I must ask you to excuseme, ma'am. "

It was a long while since her lord had addressed her as "ma'am. " As shelooked at him in growing apprehension, he turned Monte and would haveridden away, but she caught the bridle. 

"You must take me home, " said she, with ready inspiration. "I am afraidof the Indians. "

"Why, you--why, they've all gone. There he goes. Ma'am--that hawss--"

"No, " said she, holding firmly his rein and quickening her step. "Agentleman does not invite a lady to go out riding and leave her. "

His eyes lost their purpose. "I'll cert'nly take you home. That sorrelhas gone in there by the wallow, and Judge Henry will understand. " Withhis eyes watching imaginary objects, he rode and rambled and it was nowthe girl who was silent, except to keep his mind from its half-fixedidea of the sorrel. As he grew more fluent she hastened still more, listening to head off that notion of return, skilfully inventingquestions to engage him, so that when she brought him to her gateshe held him in a manner subjected, answering faithfully the shrewdunrealities which she devised, whatever makeshifts she could summon toher mind; and next she had got him inside her dwelling and set him downdocile, but now completely wandering; and then--no help was at hand, even here. She had made sure of aid from next door, and there shehastened, to find the Taylor's cabin locked and silent; and this meantthat parents and children were gone to drive; nor might she be luckierat her next nearest neighbors', should she travel the intervening mileto fetch them. With a mind jostled once more into uncertainty, shereturned to her room, and saw a change in him already. Illness hadstridden upon him; his face was not as she had left it, and the wholebody, the splendid supple horseman, showed sickness in every lineand limb, its spurs and pistol and bold leather chaps a mockery oftrappings. She looked at him, and decision came back to her, clear andsteady. She supported him over to her bed and laid him on it. His headsank flat, and his loose, nerveless arms stayed as she left them. Thenamong her packing-boxes and beneath the little miniature, blue andflaxen and gold upon its lonely wall, she undressed him. He was cold, and she covered him to the face, and arranged the pillow, and got fromits box her scarlet and black Navajo blanket and spread it over him. There was no more that she could do, and she sat down by him to wait. Among the many and many things that came into her mind was a word hesaid to her lightly a long while ago. "Cow-punchers do not live longenough to get old, " he had told her. And now she looked at the head uponthe pillow, grave and strong, but still the head of splendid, unwornyouth. 

At the distant jingle of the wagon in the lane she was out, and had mether returning neighbors midway. They heard her with amazement, and camein haste to the bedside; then Taylor departed to spread news of theIndians and bring the doctor, twenty-five miles away. The two womenfriends stood alone again, as they had stood in the morning when angerhad been between them. 

"Kiss me, deary, " said Mrs. Taylor. "Now I will look after him--andyou'll need some looking after yourself. "

But on returning from her cabin with what store she possessed of lintand stimulants, she encountered a rebel, independent as ever. Mollywould hear no talk about saving her strength, would not be in any roombut this one until the doctor should arrive; then perhaps it would betime to think about resting. So together the dame and the girl rinsedthe man's wound and wrapped him in clean things, and did all the littlethat they knew--which was, in truth, the very thing needed. Then theysat watching him toss and mutter. It was no longer upon Indians orthe sorrel horse that his talk seemed to run, or anything recent, apparently, always excepting his work. This flowingly merged withwhatever scene he was inventing or living again, and he wanderedunendingly in that incompatible world we dream in. Through the medley ofevents and names, often thickly spoken, but rising at times to grotesquecoherence, the listeners now and then could piece out the reference fromtheir own knowledge. "Monte, " for example, continually addressed, andMolly heard her own name, but invariably as "Miss Wood"; nothing lessrespectful came out, and frequently he answered some one as "ma'am. "At these fragments of revelation Mrs. Taylor abstained from speech, buteyed Molly Wood with caustic reproach. As the night wore on, short lullsof silence intervened, and the watchers were deceived into hope that thefever was abating. And when the Virginian sat quietly up in bed, essayedto move his bandage, and looked steadily at Mrs. Taylor, she rosequickly and went to him with a question as to how he was doing. 

"Rise on your laigs, you polecat, " said he, "and tell them you're aliar. "

The good dame gasped, then bade him lie down, and he obeyed her withthat strange double understanding of the delirious; for even whilesubmitting, he muttered "liar, " "polecat, " and then "Trampas. "

At that name light flashed on Mrs. Taylor, and she turned to Molly; andthere was the girl struggling with a fit of mirth at his speech; but thelaughter was fast becoming a painful seizure. Mrs. Taylor walked Mollyup and down, speaking mmediately to arrest her attention. 

"You might as well know it, " she said. "He would blame me for speakingof it, but where's the harm all this while after? And you would neverhear it from his mouth. Molly, child, they say Trampas would kill him ifhe dared, and that's on account of you. "

"I never saw Trampas, " said Molly, fixing her eyes upon the speaker. 

"No, deary. But before a lot of men--Taylor has told me aboutit--Trampas spoke disrespectfully of you, and before them all he madeTrampas say he was a liar. That is what he did when you were almosta stranger among us, and he had not started seeing so much of you. Iexpect Trampas is the only enemy he ever had in this country. But hewould never let you know about that. "

"No, " whispered Molly; "I did not know. "

"Steve!" the sick man now cried out, in poignant appeal. "Steve!" To thewomen it was a name unknown, --unknown as was also this deep inward tideof feeling which he could no longer conceal, being himself no longer. "No, Steve, " he said next, and muttering followed. "It ain't so!" heshouted; and then cunningly in a lowered voice, "Steve, I have lied foryou. "

In time Mrs. Taylor spoke some advice. 

"You had better go to bed, child. You look about ready for the doctoryourself. "

"Then I will wait for him, " said Molly. 

So the two nurses continued to sit until darkness at the windowsweakened into gray, and the lamp was no more needed. Their patient wasrambling again. Yet, into whatever scenes he went, there in some guisedid the throb of his pain evidently follow him, and he lay hitching hisgreat shoulder as if to rid it of the cumbrance. They waited for thedoctor, not daring much more than to turn pillows and give what otherease they could; and then, instead of the doctor, came a messenger, about noon, to say he was gone on a visit some thirty miles beyond, where Taylor had followed to bring him here as soon as might be. At thisMolly consented to rest and to watch, turn about; and once she was overin her friend's house lying down, they tried to keep her there. But therevolutionist could not be put down, and when, as a last pretext, Mrs. Taylor urged the proprieties and conventions, the pale girl from Vermontlaughed sweetly in her face and returned to sit by the sick man. Withthe approach of the second night his fever seemed to rise and masterhim more completely than they had yet seen it, and presently it so ragedthat the women called in stronger arms to hold him down. There weretimes when he broke out in the language of the round-up, and Mrs. Taylorrenewed her protests. "Why, " said Molly "don't you suppose I knew theycould swear?" So the dame, in deepening astonishment and affection, gaveup these shifts at decorum. Nor did the delirium run into the intimate, coarse matters that she dreaded. The cow-puncher had lived like hiskind, but his natural daily thoughts were clean, and came from theuntamed but unstained mind of a man. And toward morning, as Mrs. Taylorsat taking her turn, suddenly he asked had he been sick long, and lookedat her with a quieted eye. The wandering seemed to drop from him at astroke, leaving him altogether himself. He lay very feeble, and inquiredonce or twice of his state and how he came here; nor was anything leftin his memory of even coming to the spring where he had been found. 

When the doctor arrived, he pronounced that it would be long--or veryshort. He praised their clean water treatment; the wound was fortunatelywell up on the shoulder, and gave so far no bad signs; there were notany bad signs; and the blood and strength of the patient had been asfew men's were; each hour was now an hour nearer certainty, andmeanwhile--meanwhile the doctor would remain as long as he could. He hadmany inquiries to satisfy. Dusty fellows would ride up, listen to him, and reply, as they rode away, "Don't yu' let him die, Doc. " And JudgeHenry sent over from Sunk Creek to answer for any attendance or medicinethat might help his foreman. The country was moved with concern andinterest; and in Molly's ears its words of good feeling seemed to uniteand sum up a burden, "Don't yu' let him die, Doc. " The Indians who haddone this were now in military custody. They had come unpermitted froma southern reservation, hunting, next thieving, and as the slumberingspirit roused in one or two of the young and ambitious, they hadventured this in the secret mountains, and perhaps had killed a trapperfound there. Editors immediately reared a tall war out of it; but fromfive Indians in a guard-house waiting punishment not even an editorcan supply spar for more than two editions, and if the recent alarmwas still a matter of talk anywhere, it was not here in the sick-room. Whichever way the case should turn, it was through Molly alone (thedoctor told her) that the wounded man had got this chance--this goodchance, he related. 

And he told her she had not done a woman's part, but a man's part, andnow had no more to do; no more till the patient got well, and couldthank her in his own way, said the doctor, smiling, and supposing thingsthat were not so--misled perhaps by Mrs. Taylor. 

"I'm afraid I'll be gone by the time he is well, " said Molly, coldly;and the discreet physician said ah, and that she would find Benningtonquite a change from Bear Creek. 

But Mrs. Taylor spoke otherwise, and at that the girl said: "I shallstay as long as I am needed. I will nurse him. I want to nurse him. Iwill do everything for him that I can!" she exclaimed, with force. 

"And that won't be anything, deary, " said Mrs. Taylor, harshly. "A yearof nursing don't equal a day of sweetheart. "

The girl took a walk, --she was of no more service in the room atpresent, --but she turned without going far, and Mrs. Taylor spied hercome to lean over the pasture fence and watch the two horses--that onethe Virginian had "gentled" for her, and his own Monte. During thissuspense came a new call for the doctor, neighbors profiting by hisvisit to Bear Creek; and in his going away to them, even under promiseof quick return, Mrs. Taylor suspected a favorable sign. He kept hisword as punctually as had been possible, arriving after some six hourswith a confident face, and spending now upon the patient a care notneeded, save to reassure the bystanders. He spoke his opinion that allwas even better than he could have hoped it would be, so soon. Here wasnow the beginning of the fifth day; the wound's look was wholesome, nofurther delirium had come, and the fever had abated a degree while hewas absent. He believed the serious danger-line lay behind, and (shortof the unforeseen) the man's deep untainted strength would reassertits control. He had much blood to make, and must be cared for duringweeks--three, four, five--there was no saying how long yet. These nextfew days it must be utter quiet for him; he must not talk nor hearanything likely to disturb him; and then the time for cheerfulness andgradual company would come--sooner than later, the doctor hoped. Sohe departed, and sent next day some bottles, with further cautionsregarding the wound and dirt, and to say he should be calling the dayafter to-morrow. 

Upon that occasion he found two patients. Molly Wood lay in bed at Mrs. Taylor's, filled with apology and indignation. With little to do, anddeprived of the strong stimulant of anxiety and action, her strengthhad quite suddenly left her, so that she had spoken only in a sort ofwhisper. But upon waking from a long sleep, after Mrs. Taylor had takenher firmly, almost severely, in hand, her natural voice had returned, and now the chief treatment the doctor gave her was a sort of scolding, which it pleased Mrs. Taylor to hear. The doctor even dropped a phraseconcerning the arrogance of strong nerves in slender bodies, and ofundertaking several people's work when several people were at hand to doit for themselves, and this pleased Mrs. Taylor remarkably. As for thewounded man, he was behaving himself properly. Perhaps in another weekhe could be moved to a more cheerful room. Just now, with cleanlinessand pure air, any barn would do. 

"We are real lucky to have such a sensible doctor in the country, " Mrs. Taylor observed, after the physician had gone. 

"No doubt, " said Molly. "He said my room was a barn. "

"That's what you've made it, deary. But sick men don't notice much. "

Nevertheless, one may believe, without going widely astray, thatillness, so far from veiling, more often quickens the perceptions--atany rate those of the naturally keen. On a later day--and the intervalwas brief--while Molly was on her second drive to take the air with Mrs. Taylor, that lady informed her that the sick man had noticed. "And Icould not tell him things liable to disturb him, " said she, "and soI--well, I expect I just didn't exactly tell him the facts. I said yes, you were packing up for a little visit to your folks. They had not seenyou for quite a while, I said. And he looked at those boxes kind ofsilent like. "

"There's no need to move him, " said Molly. '"It is simpler to movethem--the boxes. I could take out some of my things, you know, justwhile he has to be kept there. I mean--you see, if the doctor says theroom should be cheerful--"

"Yes, deary. "

"I will ask the doctor next time, " said Molly, "if he believes Iam--competent to spread a rug upon a floor. " Molly's references tothe doctor were usually acid these days. And this he totally failed toobserve, telling her when he came, why, to be sure! the very thing!And if she could play cards or read aloud, or afford any other lightdistractions, provided they did not lead the patient to talk and tirehimself, that she would be most useful. Accordingly she took over thecribbage board, and came with unexpected hesitation face to face againwith the swarthy man she had saved and tended. He was not so swarthynow, but neat, with chin clean, and hair and mustache trimmed andsmooth, and he sat propped among pillows watching for her. 

"You are better, " she said, speaking first, and with uncertain voice. 

"Yes. They have given me awdehs not to talk, " said the Southerner, smiling. 

"Oh, yes. Please do not talk--not to-day. "

"No. Only this"--he looked at her, and saw her seem to shrink--"thankyou for what you have done, " he said simply. 

She took tenderly the hand he stretched to her; and upon these termsthey set to work at cribbage. She won, and won again, and the third timelaid down her cards and reproached him with playing in order to lose. 

"No, " he said, and his eye wandered to the boxes. "But my thoughts getaway from me. I'll be strong enough to hold them on the cyards nexttime, I reckon. "

Many tones in his voice she had heard, but never the tone of sadnessuntil to-day. 

Then they played a little more, and she put away the board for thisfirst time. 

"You are going now?" he asked. 

"When I have made this room look a little less forlorn. They haven'twanted to meddle with my things, I suppose. " And Molly stooped onceagain among the chattels destined for Vermont. Out they came; again thebearskin was spread on the floor, various possessions and ornaments wentback into their ancient niches, the shelves grew comfortable with books, and, last, some flowers were stood on the table. 

"More like old times, " said the Virginian, but sadly. 

"It's too bad, " said Molly, "you had to be brought into such a lookingplace. "

"And your folks waiting for you, " said he. 

"Oh, I'll pay my visit later, " said Molly, putting the rug a triflestraighter. 

"May I ask one thing?" pleaded the Virginian, and at the gentleness ofhis voice her face grew rosy, and she fixed her eyes on him with a sortof dread. 

"Anything that I can answer, " said she. 

"Oh, yes. Did I tell yu' to quit me, and did yu' load up my gun andstay? Was that a real business? I have been mixed up in my haid. "

"That was real, " said Molly. "What else was there to do?"

"Just nothing--for such as you!" he exclaimed. "My haid has been mightycrazy; and that little grandmother of yours yondeh, she--but I can'tjust quite catch a-hold of these things"--he passed a hand overhis forehead--"so many--or else one right along--well, it's allfoolishness!" he concluded, with something almost savage in his tone. And after she had gone from the cabin he lay very still, looking at theminiature on the wall. 

He was in another sort of mood the next time, cribbage not interestinghim in the least. "Your folks will be wondering about you, " said he. 

"I don't think they will mind which month I go to them, " said Molly. "Especially when they know the reason. "

"Don't let me keep you, ma'am, " said he. Molly stared at him; but hepursued, with the same edge lurking in his slow words: "Though I'llnever forget. How could I forget any of all you have done--and been? Ifthere had been none of this, why, I had enough to remember! But pleasedon't stay, ma'am. We'll say I had a claim when yu' found me pretty welldead, but I'm gettin' well, yu' see--right smart, too!"

"I can't understand, indeed I can't, " said Molly, "why you're talkingso!"

He seemed to have certain moods when he would address her as "ma'am, "and this she did not like, but could not prevent. 

"Oh, a sick man is funny. And yu' know I'm grateful to you. "

"Please say no more about that, or I shall go this afternoon. I don'twant to go. I am not ready. I think I had better read something now. "

"Why, yes. That's cert'nly a good notion. Why, this is the best showyou'll ever get to give me education. Won't yu' please try that EMMAbook now, ma'am? Listening to you will be different. " This was said withsoftness and humility. 

Uncertain--as his gravity often left her--precisely what he meant bywhat he said, Molly proceeded with EMMA, slackly at first, but soon withthe enthusiasm that Miss Austen invariably gave her. She held the volumeand read away at it, commenting briefly, and then, finishing a chapterof the sprightly classic, found her pupil slumbering peacefully. Therewas no uncertainty about that. 

"You couldn't be doing a healthier thing for him, deary, " said Mrs. Taylor. "If it gets to make him wakeful, try something harder. " This wasthe lady's scarcely sympathetic view. 

But it turned out to be not obscurity in which Miss Austen sinned. 

When Molly next appeared at the Virginian's threshold, he saidplaintively, "I reckon I am a dunce. " And he sued for pardon. "When Iwaked up, " he said, "I was ashamed of myself for a plumb half-hour. " Norcould she doubt this day that he meant what he said. His mood was againserene and gentle, and without referring to his singular words that haddistressed her, he made her feel his contrition, even in his silence. 

"I am right glad you have come, " he said. And as he saw her going to thebookshelf, he continued, with diffidence: "As regyards that EMMA book, yu' see--yu' see, the doin's and sayin's of folks like them are aboveme. But I think" (he spoke most diffidently), "if yu' could read mesomething that was ABOUT something, I--I'd be liable to keep awake. " Andhe smiled with a certain shyness. 

"Something ABOUT something?" queried Molly, at a loss. 

"Why, yes. Shakespeare. HENRY THE FOURTH. The British king is fighting, and there is his son the prince. He cert'nly must have been a jim-dandyboy if that is all true. Only he would go around town with a mightytriflin' gang. They sported and they held up citizens. And his fatherhated his travelling with trash like them. It was right natural--the boyand the old man! But the boy showed himself a man too. He killed a bigfighter on the other side who was another jim-dandy--and he was sorryfor having it to do. " The Virginian warmed to his recital. "I understandmost all of that. There was a fat man kept everybody laughing. He wasawful natural too; except yu' don't commonly meet 'em so fat. But theprince--that play is bed-rock, ma'am! Have you got something like that?"

"Yes, I think so, " she replied. "I believe I see what you wouldappreciate. "

She took her Browning, her idol, her imagined affinity. For the paledecadence of New England had somewhat watered her good old Revolutionaryblood too, and she was inclined to think under glass and to liveunderdone--when there were no Indians to shoot! She would have joyed toventure "Paracelsus" on him, and some lengthy rhymed discourses; and shefondly turned leaves and leaves of her pet doggerel analytics. "PippaPasses" and others she had to skip, from discreet motives--pages whichhe would have doubtless stayed awake at; but she chose a poem at length. This was better than Emma, he pronounced. And short. The horse was agood horse. He thought a man whose horse must not play out on him wouldwatch the ground he was galloping over for holes, and not be likely tosee what color the rims of his animal's eye-sockets were. You could notsee them if you sat as you ought to for such a hard ride. Of the nextpiece that she read him he thought still better. "And it is short, " saidhe. "But the last part drops. "

Molly instantly exacted particulars. 

"The soldier should not have told the general he was killed, " stated thecow-puncher. 

"What should he have told him, I'd like to know?" said Molly. 

"Why, just nothing. If the soldier could ride out of the battle all shotup, and tell his general about their takin' the town--that was beinggritty, yu' see. But that truck at the finish--will yu' please say itagain?"

So Molly read:--

 "'You're wounded! 'Nay, ' the soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said, 'I'm killed, sire!' And, his chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead. "

"'Nay, I'm killed, sire, '" drawled the Virginian, amiably; for (symptomof convalescence) his freakish irony was revived in him. "Now a manwho was man enough to act like he did, yu' see, would fall dead withoutmentioning it. "

None of Molly's sweet girl friends had ever thus challenged Mr. Browning. They had been wont to cluster over him with a joyous awe thatdeepened proportionally with their misunderstanding. Molly paused toconsider this novelty of view about the soldier. "He was a Frenchman, you know, " she said, under inspiration. 

"A Frenchman, " murmured the grave cowpuncher. "I never knowed aFrenchman, but I reckon they might perform that class of foolishness. "

"But why was it foolish?" she cried. 

"His soldier's pride--don't you see?"

"No. "

Molly now burst into a luxury of discussion. She leaned toward hercow-puncher with bright eyes searching his; with elbow on knee and handpropping chin, her lap became a slant, and from it Browning the poetslid and toppled, and lay unrescued. For the slow cow-puncher unfoldedhis notions of masculine courage and modesty (though he did not deal insuch high-sounding names), and Molly forgot everything to listen to him, as he forgot himself and his inveterate shyness and grew talkative toher. "I would never have supposed that!" she would exclaim as she heardhim; or, presently again, "I never had such an idea!" And her mindopened with delight to these new things which came from the man's mindso simple and direct. To Browning they did come back, but the Virginian, though interested, conceived a dislike for him. "He is a smarty, " saidhe, once or twice. 

"Now here is something, " said Molly. "I have never known what to think. "

"Oh, Heavens!" murmured the sick man, smiling. "Is it short?"

"Very short. Now please attend. " And she read him twelve lines abouta lover who rowed to a beach in the dusk, crossed a field, tapped at apane, and was admitted. 

"That is the best yet, " said the Virginian. "There's only one thing yu'can think about that. "

"But wait, " said the girl, swiftly. "Here is how they parted:--

 "Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's rim-- And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me. "

"That is very, very true, " murmured the Virginian, dropping his eyesfrom the girl's intent ones. 

"Had they quarrelled?" she inquired. 

"Oh, no!"

"But--"

"I reckon he loved her very much. "

"Then you're sure they hadn't quarrelled?"

"Dead sure, ma'am. He would come back afteh he had played some more ofthe game. "

"The game?"

"Life, ma'am. Whatever he was a-doin' in the world of men. That's abed-rock piece, ma'am!"

"Well, I don't see why you think it's so much better than some of theothers. "

"I could sca'cely explain, " answered the man. "But that writer does knowsomething. "

"I am glad they hadn't quarrelled, " said Molly, thoughtfully. And shebegan to like having her opinions refuted. 

His bandages, becoming a little irksome, had to be shifted, and thisturned their discourse from literature to Wyoming; and Molly inquired, had he ever been shot before? Only once, he told her. "I have beenlucky in having few fusses, " said he. "I hate them. If a man has to bekilled--"

"You never--" broke in Molly. She had started back a little. "Well, " sheadded hastily, "don't tell me if--"

"I shouldn't wonder if I got one of those Indians, " he said quietly. "But I wasn't waitin' to see! But I came mighty near doing for a whiteman that day. He had been hurtin' a hawss. "

"Hurting?" said Molly. 

"Injurin. ' I will not tell yu' about that. It would hurt yu' to hearsuch things. But hawsses--don't they depend on us? Ain't they somethin'like children? I did not lay up the man very bad. He was able to travel'most right away. Why, you'd have wanted to kill him yourself!"

So the Virginian talked, nor knew what he was doing to the girl. Norwas she aware of what she was receiving from him as he unwittingly spokehimself out to her in these Browning meetings they had each day. ButMrs. Taylor grew pleased. The kindly dame would sometimes cross theroad to see if she were needed, and steal away again after a peep at thewindow. There, inside, among the restored home treasures, sat the two:the rosy alert girl, sweet as she talked or read to him; and he, thegrave, half-weak giant among his wraps, watching her. 

Of her delayed home visit he never again spoke, either to her or to Mrs. Taylor; and Molly veered aside from any trend of talk she foresaw wasleading toward that subject. But in those hours when no visitorscame, and he was by himself in the quiet, he would lie often sombrelycontemplating the girl's room, her little dainty knickknacks, her homephotographs, all the delicate manifestations of what she came from andwhat she was. Strength was flowing back into him each day, and JudgeHenry's latest messenger had brought him clothes and mail from SunkCreek and many inquiries of kindness, and returned taking the news ofthe cow-puncher's improvement, and how soon he would be permitted thefresh air. Hence Molly found him waiting in a flannel shirt of highlybecoming shade, and with a silk handkerchief knotted round his throat;and he told her it was good to feel respectable again. 

She had come to read to him for the allotted time; and she threw aroundhis shoulders the scarlet and black Navajo blanket, striped with itssplendid zigzags of barbarity. Thus he half sat, half leaned, languidbut at ease. In his lap lay one of the letters brought over by themessenger: and though she was midway in a book that engaged his fullattention--DAVID COPPERFELD--his silence and absent look this morningstopped her, and she accused him of not attending. 

"No, " he admitted; "I am thinking of something else. "

She looked at him with that apprehension which he knew. 

"It had to come, " said he. "And to-day I see my thoughts straighter thanI've been up to managing since--since my haid got clear. And now Imust say these thoughts--if I can, if I can!" He stopped. His eyes wereintent upon her; one hand was gripping the arm of his chair. 

"You promised--" trembled Molly. 

"I promised you should love me, " he sternly interrupted. "Promised thatto myself. I have broken that word. "

She shut DAVID COPPERHEAD mechanically, and grew white. 

"Your letter has come to me hyeh, " he continued, gentle again. 

"My--" She had forgotten it. 

"The letter you wrote to tell me good-by. You wrote it a little whileago--not a month yet, but it's away and away long gone for me. "

"I have never let you know--" began Molly. 

"The doctor, " he interrupted once more, but very gently now, "he gaveawdehs I must be kept quiet. I reckon yu' thought tellin' me might--"

"Forgive me!" cried the girl. "Indeed I ought to have told you sooner!Indeed I had no excuse!"

"Why, should yu' tell me if yu' preferred not? You had written. And youspeak" (he lifted the letter) "of never being able to repay kindness;but you have turned the tables. I can never repay you by anything! byanything! So I had figured I would just jog back to Sunk Creek and letyou get away, if you did not want to say that kind of good-by. For I sawthe boxes. Mrs. Taylor is too nice a woman to know the trick of lyin', and she could not deceive me. I have knowed yu' were going away for goodever since I saw those boxes. But now hyeh comes your letter, and itseems no way but I must speak. I have thought a deal, lyin' in thisroom. And--to-day--I can say what I have thought. I could not make youhappy. " He stopped, but she did not answer. His voice had grown softerthan whispering, but yet was not a whisper. From its quiet syllables sheturned away, blinded with sudden tears. 

"Once, I thought love must surely be enough, " he continued. "AndI thought if I could make you love me, you could learn me to beless--less-more your kind. And I think I could give you a pretty goodsort of love. But that don't help the little mean pesky things of day byday that make roughness or smoothness for folks tied together so awfulclose. Mrs. Taylor hyeh--she don't know anything better than Taylordoes. She don't want anything he can't give her. Her friends will do forhim and his for her. And when I dreamed of you in my home--" he closedhis eyes and drew a long breath. At last he looked at her again. "Thisis no country for a lady. Will yu' forget and forgive the bothering Ihave done?"

"Oh!" cried Molly. "Oh!" And she put her hands to her eyes. She hadrisen and stood with her face covered. 

"I surely had to tell you this all out, didn't I?" said the cow-puncher, faintly, in his chair. 

"Oh!" said Molly again. 

"I have put it clear how it is, " he pursued. "I ought to have seen fromthe start I was not the sort to keep you happy. "

"But, " said Molly--"but I--you ought--please try to keep me happy!" Andsinking by his chair, she hid her face on his knees. 

Speechless, he bent down and folded her round, putting his hands on thehair that had been always his delight. Presently he whispered:-- "Youhave beat me; how can I fight this?"

She answered nothing. The Navajo's scarlet and black folds fell overboth. Not with words, not even with meeting eyes, did the two plighttheir troth in this first new hour. So they remained long, the fair headnesting in the great arms, and the black head laid against it, whileover the silent room presided the little Grandmother Stark in her frame, rosy, blue, and flaxen, not quite familiar, not quite smiling. 

XXVIII. NO DREAM TO WAKE FROM

For a long while after she had left him, he lay still, stretched inhis chair. His eyes were fixed steadily upon the open window and thesunshine outside. There he watched the movement of the leaves upon thegreen cottonwoods. What had she said to him when she went? She had said, "Now I know how unhappy I have been. " These sweet words he repeated tohimself over and over, fearing in some way that he might lose them. Theyalmost slipped from him at times; but with a jump of his mind he caughtthem again and held them, --and then--"I'm not all strong yet, " hemurmured. "I must have been very sick. " And, weak from his bulletwound and fever, he closed his eyes without knowing it. There were thecottonwoods again, waving, waving; and he felt the cool, pleasant airfrom the window. He saw the light draught stir the ashes in the greatstone fireplace. "I have been asleep, " he said. "But she was cert'nlyhere herself. Oh, yes. Surely. She always has to go away every daybecause the doctor says--why, she was readin'!" he broke off, aloud. "DAVID COPPERFIELD. " There it was on the floor. "Aha! nailed youanyway!" he said. "But how scared I am of myself!--You're a fool. Ofcourse it's so. No fever business could make yu' feel like this. "

His eye dwelt awhile on the fireplace, next on the deer horns, andnext it travelled toward the shelf where her books were; but it stoppedbefore reaching them. 

"Better say off the names before I look, " said he. "I've had a heap o'misreading visions. And--and supposin'--if this was just my sicknessfooling me some more--I'd want to die. I would die! Now we'll see. IfCOPPERFIELD is on the floor" (he looked stealthily to be sure that itwas), "then she was readin' to me when everything happened, and thenthere should be a hole in the book row, top, left. Top, left, " herepeated, and warily brought his glance to the place. "Proved!" hecried. "It's all so!"

He now noticed the miniature of Grandmother Stark. "You are awful likeher, " he whispered. "You're cert'nly awful like her. May I kiss you too, ma'am?"

Then, tottering, he rose from his sick-chair. The Navajo blanket fellfrom his shoulders, and gradually, experimentally, he stood upright. 

Helping himself with his hand slowly along the wall of the room, andround to the opposite wall with many a pause, he reached the picture, and very gently touched the forehead of the ancestral dame with hislips. "I promise to make your little girl happy, " he whispered. 

He almost fell in stooping to the portrait, but caught himself and stoodcarefully quiet, trembling, and speaking to himself. "Where is yourstrength?" he demanded. "I reckon it is joy that has unsteadied yourlaigs. "

The door opened. It was she, come back with his dinner. 

"My Heavens!" she said; and setting the tray down, she rushed to him. She helped him back to his chair, and covered him again. He had sufferedno hurt, but she clung to him; and presently he moved and let himselfkiss her with fuller passion. 

"I will be good, " he whispered. 

"You must, " she said. "You looked so pale!"

"You are speakin' low like me, " he answered. "But we have no dream wecan wake from. "

Had she surrendered on this day to her cowpuncher, her wild man? Was sheforever wholly his? Had the Virginian's fire so melted her heart that norift in it remained? So she would have thought if any thought had cometo her. But in his arms to-day, thought was lost in something moredivine. 

XXIX. WORD TO BENNINGTON

They kept their secret for a while, or at least they had that specialjoy of believing that no one in all the world but themselves knew thisthat had happened to them. But I think that there was one person whoknew how to keep a secret even better than these two lovers. Mrs. Taylormade no remarks to any one whatever. Nobody on Bear Creek, however, wasso extraordinarily cheerful and serene. That peculiar severity which shehad manifested in the days when Molly was packing her possessions, had now altogether changed. In these days she was endlessly kind andindulgent to her "deary. " Although, as a housekeeper, Mrs. Taylorbelieved in punctuality at meals, and visited her offspring withdiscipline when they were late without good and sufficient excuse, Mollywas now exempt from the faintest hint of reprimand. 

"And it's not because you're not her mother, " said George Taylor, bitterly. "She used to get it, too. And we're the only ones that get it. There she comes, just as we're about ready to quit! Aren't you going tosay NOTHING to her?"

"George, " said his mother, "when you've saved a man's life it'll be timefor you to talk. "

So Molly would come in to her meals with much irregularity; and herremarks about the imperfections of her clock met with no rejoinder. Andyet one can scarcely be so severe as had been Mrs. Taylor, and becomewholly as mild as milk. There was one recurrent event that couldinvariably awaken hostile symptoms in the dame. Whenever she saw aletter arrive with the Bennington postmark upon it, she shook her fistat that letter. "What's family pride?" she would say to herself. "Taylorcould be a Son of the Revolution if he'd a mind to. I wonder if she hastold her folks yet. "

And when letters directed to Bennington would go out, Mrs. Taylor wouldinspect every one as if its envelope ought to grow transparent beneathher eyes, and yield up to her its great secret, if it had one. But intruth these letters had no great secret to yield up, until one day--yes;one day Mrs. Taylor would have burst, were bursting a thing that peopleoften did. Three letters were the cause of this emotion on Mrs. Taylor'spart; one addressed to Bennington, one to Dunbarton, and the third--herewas the great excitement--to Bennington, but not in the littleschoolmarm's delicate writing. A man's hand had traced those plain, steady vowels and consonants. 

"It's come!" exclaimed Mrs. Taylor, at this sight. "He has written toher mother himself. "

That is what the Virginian had done, and here is how it had come about. 

The sick man's convalescence was achieved. The weeks had brought back tohim, not his whole strength yet--that could come only by many milesof open air on the back of Monte; but he was strong enough now to GETstrength. When a patient reaches this stage, he is out of the woods. 

He had gone for a little walk with his nurse. They had taken (under thedoctor's recommendation) several such little walks, beginning with afive-minute one, and at last to-day accomplishing three miles. 

"No, it has not been too far, " said he. "I am afraid I could walk twiceas far. "

"Afraid?"

"Yes. Because it means I can go to work again. This thing we have hadtogether is over. "

For reply, she leaned against him. 

"Look at you!" he said. "Only a little while ago you had to help mestand on my laigs. And now--" For a while there was silence betweenthem. "I have never had a right down sickness before, " he presently wenton. "Not to remember, that is. If any person had told me I could ENJOYsuch a thing--" He said no more, for she reached up, and no more speechwas possible. 

"How long has it been?" he next asked her. 

She told him. 

"Well, if it could be forever--no. Not forever with no more than this. I reckon I'd be sick again! But if it could be forever with just you andme, and no one else to bother with. But any longer would not be doingright by your mother. She would have a right to think ill of me. "

"Oh!" said the girl. "Let us keep it. "

"Not after I am gone. Your mother must be told. "

"It seems so--can't we--oh, why need anybody know?"

"Your mother ain't 'anybody. ' She is your mother. I feel mightyresponsible to her for what I have done. "

"But I did it!"

"Do you think so? Your mother will not think so. I am going to write toher to-day. "

"You! Write to my mother! Oh, then everything will be so different! Theywill all--" Molly stopped before the rising visions of Bennington. Uponthe fairy-tale that she had been living with her cow-boy lover broke thevoices of the world. She could hear them from afar. She could see theeyes of Bennington watching this man at her side. She could imagine theears of Bennington listening for slips in his English. There loomed uponher the round of visits which they would have to make. The ringing ofthe door-bells, the waiting in drawing-rooms for the mistress to descendand utter her prepared congratulations, while her secret eye devouredthe Virginian's appearance, and his manner of standing and sitting. Hewould be wearing gloves, instead of fringed gauntlets of buckskin. In asmooth black coat and waistcoat, how could they perceive the man he was?During those short formal interviews, what would they ever find out ofthe things that she knew about him? The things for which she was proudof him? He would speak shortly and simply; they would say, "Oh, yes!"and "How different you must find this from Wyoming!"--and then, afterthe door was shut behind his departing back they would say--He wouldbe totally underrated, not in the least understood. Why should he besubjected to this? He should never be!

Now in all these half-formed, hurried, distressing thoughts whichstreamed through the girl's mind, she altogether forgot one truth. Trueit was that the voice of the world would speak as she imagined. True itwas that in the eyes of her family and acquaintance this lover of herchoice would be examined even more like a SPECIMEN than are other loversupon these occasions: and all accepted lovers have to face this ordealof being treated like specimens by the other family. But dear me!most of us manage to stand it, don't we? It isn't, perhaps, themost delicious experience that we can recall in connection with ourengagement. But it didn't prove fatal. We got through it somehow. Wedined with Aunt Jane, and wined with Uncle Joseph, and perhaps had twofingers given to us by old Cousin Horatio, whose enormous fortune was ofthe greatest importance to everybody. And perhaps fragments of the otherfamily's estimate of us subsequently reached our own ears. But if achosen lover cannot stand being treated as a specimen by the otherfamily, he's a very weak vessel, and not worth any good girl's love. That's all I can say for him. 

Now the Virginian was scarcely what even his enemy would term a weakvessel; and Molly's jealousy of the impression which he might make uponBennington was vastly superfluous. She should have known that he wouldindeed care to make a good impression; but that such anxiety on his partwould be wholly for her sake, that in the eyes of her friends she mightstand justified in taking him for her wedded husband. So far as he wasconcerned apart from her, Aunt Jane and Uncle Joseph might say anythingthey pleased, or think anything they pleased. His character was open forinvestigation. Judge Henry would vouch for him. 

This is what he would have said to his sweetheart had she but revealedto him her perturbations. But she did not reveal them; and they were notof the order that he with his nature was likely to divine. I do notknow what good would have come from her speaking out to him, unless thatperfect understanding between lovers which indeed is a good thing. ButI do not believe that he could have reassured her; and I am certain thatshe could not have prevented his writing to her mother. 

"Well, then, " she sighed at last, "if you think so, I will tell her. "

That sigh of hers, be it well understood, was not only because of thosefar-off voices which the world would in consequence of her news belifting presently. It came also from bidding farewell to the fairy-talewhich she must leave now; that land in which she and he had been livingclose together alone, unhindered, unmindful of all things. 

"Yes, you will tell her, " said her lover. "And I must tell her too. "

"Both of us?" questioned the girl. 

What would he say to her mother? How would her mother like such a letteras he would write to her? Suppose he should misspell a word? Would notsentences from him at this time--written sentences--be a further bar tohis welcome acceptance at Bennington?

"Why don't you send messages by me?" she asked him. 

He shook his head. "She is not going to like it, anyway, " he answered. "I must speak to her direct. It would be like shirking. "

Molly saw how true his instinct was here; and a little flame shot upwardfrom the glow of her love and pride in him. Oh, if they could all onlyknow that he was like this when you understood him! She did not dare sayout to him what her fear was about this letter of his to her mother. Shedid not dare because--well, because she lacked a little faith. That isit, I am afraid. And for that sin she was her own punishment. For inthis day, and in many days to come, the pure joy of her love was vexedand clouded, all through a little lack of faith; while for him, perfectin his faith, his joy was like crystal. 

"Tell me what you're going to write, " she said. 

He smiled at her. "No. "

"Aren't you going to let me see it when it's done?"

"No. " Then a freakish look came into his eyes. "I'll let yu' seeanything I write to other women. " And he gave her one of his longkisses. "Let's get through with it together, " he suggested, when theywere once more in his sick-room, that room which she had given to him. "You'll sit one side o' the table, and I'll sit the other, and we'll goahaid; and pretty soon it will be done. "

"O dear!" she said. "Yes, I suppose that is the best way. "

And so, accordingly, they took their places. The inkstand stood betweenthem. Beside each of them she distributed paper enough, almost, for apresidential message. And pens and pencils were in plenty. Was this notthe headquarters of the Bear Creek schoolmarm?

"Why, aren't you going to do it in pencil first?" she exclaimed, lookingup from her vacant sheet. His pen was moving slowly, but steadily. 

"No, I don't reckon I need to, " he answered, with his nose close to thepaper. "Oh, damnation, there's a blot!" He tore his spoiled beginning insmall bits, and threw them into the fireplace. "You've got it too full, "he commented; and taking the inkstand, he tipped a little from it outof the window. She sat lost among her false starts. Had she heard himswear, she would not have minded. She rather liked it when he swore. Hepossessed that quality in his profanity of not offending by it. It isquite wonderful how much worse the same word will sound in one man'slips than in another's. But she did not hear him. Her mind was among alitter of broken sentences. Each thought which she began ran out intothe empty air, or came against some stone wall. So there she sat, hereyes now upon that inexorable blank sheet that lay before her, waiting, and now turned with vacant hopelessness upon the sundry objects in theroom. And while she thus sat accomplishing nothing, opposite to her theblack head bent down, and the steady pen moved from phrase to phrase. 

She became aware of his gazing at her, flushed and solemn. That strangecolor of the sea-water, which she could never name, was lustrous in hiseyes. He was folding his letter. 

"You have finished?" she said. 

"Yes. " His voice was very quiet. "I feel like an honester man. "

"Perhaps I can do something to-night at Mrs. Taylor's, " she said, looking at her paper. 

On it were a few words crossed out. This was all she had to show. Atthis set task in letter-writing, the cow-puncher had greatly excelledthe schoolmarm!

But that night, while he lay quite fast asleep in his bed, she waskeeping vigil in her room at Mrs. Taylor's. 

Accordingly, the next day, those three letters departed for the mail, and Mrs. Taylor consequently made her exclamation, "It's come!"

On the day before the Virginian returned to take up his work at JudgeHenry's ranch, he and Molly announced their news. What Molly said toMrs. Taylor and what Mrs. Taylor said to her, is of no interest to us, though it was of much to them. 

But Mr. McLean happened to make a call quite early in the morning toinquire for his friend's health. 

"Lin, " began the Virginian, "there is no harm in your knowing an hour orso before the rest, I am--"

"Lord!" said Mr. McLean, indulgently. "Everybody has knowed that sincethe day she found yu' at the spring. "

"It was not so, then, " said the Virginian, crossly. 

"Lord! Everybody has knowed it right along. "

"Hmp!" said the Virginian. "I didn't know this country was that rankwith gossips. "

Mr. McLean laughed mirthfully at the lover. "Well, " he said, "Mrs. McLean will be glad. She told me to give yu' her congratulations quitea while ago. I was to have 'em ready just as soon as ever yu' asked for'em yourself. " Lin had been made a happy man some twelve months previousto this. And now, by way of an exchange of news, he added: "We'reexpectin' a little McLean down on Box Elder. That's what you'll beexpectin' some of these days, I hope. "

"Yes, " murmured the Virginian, "I hope so too. "

"And I don't guess, " said Lin, "that you and I will do much shufflin' ofother folks' children any more. "

Whereupon he and the Virginian shook hands silently, and understood eachother very well. 

On the day that the Virginian parted with Molly, beside the weight offarewell which lay heavy on his heart, his thoughts were also grave withnews. The cattle thieves had grown more audacious. Horses and cattleboth were being missed, and each man began almost to doubt his neighbor. 

"Steps will have to be taken soon by somebody, I reckon, " said thelover. 

"By you?" she asked quickly. 

"Most likely I'll get mixed up with it. "

"What will you have to do?"

"Can't say. I'll tell yu' when I come back. "

So did he part from her, leaving her more kisses than words to remember. 

And what was doing at Bennington, meanwhile, and at Dunbarton? Thosethree letters which by their mere outside had so moved Mrs. Taylor, produced by their contents much painful disturbance. 

It will be remembered that Molly wrote to her mother, and to hergreat-aunt. That announcement to her mother was undertaken first. Itscomposition occupied three hours and a half, and it filled eleven pages, not counting a postscript upon the twelfth. The letter to the great-aunttook only ten minutes. I cannot pretend to explain why this one wasso greatly superior to the other; but such is the remarkable fact. Itsbeginning, to be sure, did give the old lady a start; she had dismissedthe cow-boy from her probabilities. 

"Tut, tut, tut!" she exclaimed out loud in her bedroom. "She has thrownherself away on that fellow!"

But some sentences at the end made her pause and sit still for a longwhile. The severity upon her face changed to tenderness, gradually. "Ah, me, " she sighed. "If marriage were as simple as love!" Then she wentslowly downstairs, and out into her garden, where she walked longbetween the box borders. "But if she has found a great love, " said theold lady at length. And she returned to her bedroom, and opened an olddesk, and read some old letters. 

There came to her the next morning a communication from Bennington. Thishad been penned frantically by poor Mrs. Wood. As soon as she had beenable to gather her senses after the shock of her daughter's eleven pagesand the postscript, the mother had poured out eight pages herself to theeldest member of the family. There had been, indeed, much excuse for thepoor lady. To begin with, Molly had constructed her whole openingpage with the express and merciful intention of preparing her mother. Consequently, it made no sense whatever. Its effect was the usual effectof remarks designed to break a thing gently. It merely made Mrs. Wood'shead swim, and filled her with a sickening dread. "Oh, mercy, Sarah, "she had cried, "come here. What does this mean?" And then, fortified byher elder daughter, she had turned over that first page and found whatit meant on the top of the second. "A savage with knives and pistols!"she wailed. 

"Well, mother, I always told you so, " said her daughter Sarah. 

"What is a foreman?" exclaimed the mother. "And who is Judge Henry?"

"She has taken a sort of upper servant, " said Sarah. "If it is allowedto go as far as a wedding, I doubt if I can bring myself to be present. "(This threat she proceeded to make to Molly, with results that shall beset forth in their proper place. )

"The man appears to have written to me himself, " said Mrs. Wood. 

"He knows no better, " said Sarah. 

"Bosh!" said Sarah's husband later. "It was a very manly thing to do. "Thus did consternation rage in the house at Bennington. Molly mighthave spared herself the many assurances that she gave concerningthe universal esteem in which her cow-puncher was held, and the fairprospects which were his. So, in the first throes of her despair, Mrs. Wood wrote those eight not maturely considered pages to the great-aunt. 

"Tut, tut, tut!" said the great-aunt as she read them. Her face was muchmore severe to-day. "You'd suppose, " she said, "that the girl had beenkidnapped! Why, she has kept him waiting three years!" And then sheread more, but soon put the letter down with laughter. For Mrs. Woodhad repeated in writing that early outburst of hers about a savage withknives and pistols. "Law!" said the great-aunt. "Law, what a fool Lizzieis!"

So she sat down and wrote to Mrs. Wood a wholesome reply about puttinga little more trust in her own flesh and blood, and reminding her amongother things that General Stark had himself been wont to carry knivesand pistols owing to the necessities of his career, but that he hadoccasionally taken them off, as did probably this young man in Wyoming. "You had better send me the letter he has written you, " she concluded. "I shall know much better what to think after I have seen that. "

It is not probable that Mrs. Wood got much comfort from thiscommunication; and her daughter Sarah was actually enraged by it. "She grows more perverse as she nears her dotage, " said Sarah. But theVirginian's letter was sent to Dunbarton, where the old lady sat herselfdown to read it with much attention. 

Here is what the Virginian had said to the unknown mother of hissweetheart. 

MRS. JOHN STARK WOOD Bennington, Vermont. 

Madam: If your daughter Miss Wood has ever told you about her savinga man's life here when some Indians had shot him that is the man whowrites to you now. I don't think she can have told you right aboutthat affair for she is the only one in this country who thinks it wasa little thing. So I must tell you it, the main points. Such an actionwould have been thought highly of in a Western girl, but with MissWood's raising nobody had a right to expect it. 

"Indeed!" snorted the great-aunt. "Well, he would be right, if I had nothad a good deal more to do with her 'raising' than ever Lizzie had. " Andshe went on with the letter. 

I was starting in to die when she found me. I did not know anythingthen, and she pulled me back from where I was half in the next world. She did not know but what Indians would get her too but I could not makeher leave me. I am a heavy man one hundred and seventy-three strippedwhen in full health. She lifted me herself from the ground me helpingscarce any for there was not much help in me that day. She washed mywound and brought me to with her own whiskey. Before she could get mehome I was out of my head but she kept me on my horse somehow and talkedwisely to me so I minded her and did not go clean crazy till she had gotme safe to bed. The doctor says I would have died all the same if shehad not nursed me the way she did. It made me love her more which I didnot know I could. But there is no end, for this writing it down makes melove her more as I write it. 

And now Mrs. Wood I am sorry this will be bad news for you to hear. Iknow you would never choose such a man as I am for her for I have gotno education and must write humble against my birth. I wish I could makethe news easier but truth is the best. 

I am of old stock in Virginia. English and one Scotch Irish grandmothermy father's father brought from Kentucky. We have always stayed at thesame place farmers and hunters not bettering our lot and very plain. Wehave fought when we got the chance, under Old Hickory and in Mexico andmy father and two brothers were killed in the Valley sixty-four. Alwayswith us one son has been apt to run away and I was the one this time. Ihad too much older brothering to suit me. But now I am doing well beingin full sight of prosperity and not too old and very strong my healthhaving stood the sundries it has been put through. She shall teachschool no more when she is mine. I wish I could make this news easierfor you Mrs. Wood. I do not like promises I have heard so many. I willtell any man of your family anything he likes to ask one, and JudgeHenry would tell you about my reputation. I have seen plenty roughthings but can say I have never killed for pleasure or profit and am notone of that kind, always preferring peace. I have had to live in placeswhere they had courts and lawyers so called but an honest man was allthe law you could find in five hundred miles. I have not told her aboutthose things not because I am ashamed of them but there are so manythings too dark for a girl like her to hear about. 

I had better tell you the way I know I love Miss Wood. I am not a boynow, and women are no new thing to me. A man like me who has travelledmeets many of them as he goes and passes on but I stopped when I cameto Miss Wood. That is three years but I have not gone on. What right hassuch as he? you will say. So did I say it after she had saved my life. It was hard to get to that point and keep there with her around me allday. But I said to myself you have bothered her for three years withyour love and if you let your love bother her you don't love her likeyou should and you must quit for her sake who has saved your life. I didnot know what I was going to do with my life after that but I supposedI could go somewhere and work hard and so Mrs. Wood I told her I wouldgive her up. But she said no. It is going to be hard for her to get usedto a man like me--

But at this point in the Virginian's letter, the old great-aunt couldread no more. She rose, and went over to that desk where lay those fadedletters of her own. She laid her head down upon the package, and as hertears flowed quietly upon it, "O dear, " she whispered, "O dear! And thisis what I lost!"

To her girl upon Bear Creek she wrote the next day. And this word fromDunbarton was like balm among the harsh stings Molly was receiving. Thevoices of the world reached her in gathering numbers, and not one ofthem save that great-aunt's was sweet. Her days were full of hurts; andthere was no one by to kiss the hurts away. Nor did she even hear fromher lover any more now. She only knew he had gone into lonely regionsupon his errand. 

That errand took him far:-- Across the Basin, among the secret placesof Owl Creek, past the Washakie Needles, over the Divide to Gros Ventre, and so through a final barrier of peaks into the borders of East Idaho. There, by reason of his bidding me, I met him, and came to share in apart of his errand. 

It was with no guide that I travelled to him. He had named a littlestation on the railroad, and from thence he had charted my route bymeans of landmarks. Did I believe in omens, the black storm that I setout in upon my horse would seem like one to-day. But I had been livingin cities and smoke; and Idaho, even with rain, was delightful to me. 

XXX. A STABLE ON THE FLAT

When the first landmark, the lone clump of cottonwoods, came at lengthin sight, dark and blurred in the gentle rain, standing out perhapsa mile beyond the distant buildings, my whole weary body hailed theapproach of repose. Saving the noon hour, I had been in the saddle sincesix, and now six was come round again. The ranch, my resting-place forthis night, was a ruin--cabin, stable, and corral. Yet after the twelvehours of pushing on and on through silence, still to have silence, stillto eat and go to sleep in it, perfectly fitted the mood of both my fleshand spirit. At noon, when for a while I had thrown off my long oilskincoat, merely the sight of the newspaper half crowded into my pocket hadbeen a displeasing reminder of the railway, and cities, and affairs. Butfor its possible help to build fires, it would have come no farther withme. The great levels around me lay cooled and freed of dust by thewet weather, and full of sweet airs. Far in front the foot-hills rosethrough the rain, indefinite and mystic. I wanted no speech with anyone, nor to be near human beings at all. I was steeped in a revery as ofthe primal earth; even thoughts themselves had almost ceased motion. Tolie down with wild animals, with elk and deer, would have made my wakingdream complete; and since such dream could not be, the cattle around thedeserted buildings, mere dots as yet across separating space, were myproper companions for this evening. 

To-morrow night I should probably be camping with the Virginian in thefoot-hills. At his letter's bidding I had come eastward across Idaho, abandoning my hunting in the Saw Tooth Range to make this journey withhim back through the Tetons. It was a trail known to him, and not tomany other honest men. Horse Thief Pass was the name his letter gave it. Business (he was always brief) would call him over there at this time. Returning, he must attend to certain matters in the Wind River country. There I could leave by stage for the railroad, or go on with him thewhole way back to Sunk Creek. He designated for our meeting the forksof a certain little stream in the foot-hills which to-day's ride hadbrought in sight. There would be no chance for him to receive an answerfrom me in the intervening time. If by a certain day--which was fourdays off still--I had not reached the forks, he would understand I hadother plans. To me it was like living back in ages gone, this way ofmeeting my friend, this choice of a stream so far and lonely that itsvery course upon the maps was wrongly traced. And to leave behind allnoise and mechanisms, and set out at ease, slowly, with one packhorse, into the wilderness, made me feel that the ancient earth was indeed mymother and that I had found her again after being lost among houses, customs, and restraints. I should arrive three days early at theforks--three days of margin seeming to me a wise precaution againstdelays unforeseen. If the Virginian were not there, good; I could fishand be happy. If he were there but not ready to start, good; I couldstill fish and be happy. And remembering my Eastern helplessness inthe year when we had met first, I enjoyed thinking how I had come to betrusted. In those days I had not been allowed to go from the ranch forso much as an afternoon's ride unless tied to him by a string, so tospeak; now I was crossing unmapped spaces with no guidance. The man whocould do this was scarce any longer a "tenderfoot. "

My vision, as I rode, took in serenely the dim foot-hills, --to-morrow'sgoal, --and nearer in the vast wet plain the clump of cottonwoods, andstill nearer my lodging for to-night with the dotted cattle round it. And now my horse neighed. I felt his gait freshen for the journey'send, and leaning to pat his neck I noticed his ears no longer slack andinattentive, but pointing forward to where food and rest awaited both ofus. Twice he neighed, impatiently and long; and as he quickened his gaitstill more, the packhorse did the same, and I realized that there wasabout me still a spice of the tenderfoot: those dots were not cattle;they were horses. 

My horse had put me in the wrong. He had known his kind from afar, and was hastening to them. The plainsman's eye was not yet mine; and Ismiled a little as I rode. When was I going to know, as by instinct, thedifferent look of horses and cattle across some two or three miles ofplain?

These miles we finished soon. The buildings changed in their aspect asthey grew to my approach, showing their desolation more clearly, and insome way bringing apprehension into my mood. And around them the horses, too, all standing with ears erect, watching me as I came--there wassomething about them; or was it the silence? For the silence which I hadliked until now seemed suddenly to be made too great by the presence ofthe deserted buildings. And then the door of the stable opened, andmen came out and stood, also watching me arrive. By the time I wasdismounting more were there. It was senseless to feel as unpleasant asI did, and I strove to give to them a greeting that should sound easy. I told them that I hoped there was room for one more here to-night. Someof them had answered my greeting, but none of them answered this; andas I began to be sure that I recognized several of their strangelyimperturbable faces, the Virginian came from the stable; and at thatwelcome sight my relief spoke out instantly. 

"I am here, you see!"

"Yes, I do see. " I looked hard at him, for in his voice was the samestrangeness that I felt in everything around me. But he was looking athis companions. "This gentleman is all right, " he told them. 

"That may be, " said one whom I now knew that I had seen before at SunkCreek; "but he was not due to-night. "

"Nor to-morrow, " said another. 

"Nor yet the day after, " a third added. 

The Virginian fell into his drawl. "None of you was ever early foranything, I presume. "

One retorted, laughing, "Oh, we're not suspicioning you of complicity. "

And another, "Not even when we remember how thick you and Steve used tobe. "

Whatever jokes they meant by this he did not receive as jokes. I sawsomething like a wince pass over his face, and a flush follow it. But henow spoke to me. "We expected to be through before this, " he began. "I'mright sorry you have come to-night. I know you'd have preferred to keepaway. "

"We want him to explain himself, " put in one of the others. "If hesatisfies us, he's free to go away. "

"Free to go away!" I now exclaimed. But at the indulgence in theirfrontier smile I cooled down. "Gentlemen, " I said, "I don't know why mymovements interest you so much. It's quite a compliment! May I get undershelter while I explain?"

No request could have been more natural, for the rain had now begun tofall in straight floods. Yet there was a pause before one of them said, "He might as well. "

The Virginian chose to say nothing more; but he walked beside me intothe stable. Two men sat there together, and a third guarded them. Atthat sight I knew suddenly what I had stumbled upon; and on the impulseI murmured to the Virginian, "You're hanging them to-morrow. "

He kept his silence. 

"You may have three guesses, " said a man behind me. 

But I did not need them. And in the recoil of my insight the clumpof cottonwoods came into my mind, black and grim. No other trees highenough grew within ten miles. This, then, was the business that theVirginian's letter had so curtly mentioned. My eyes went into allcorners of the stable, but no other prisoners were here. I half expectedto see Trampas, and I half feared to see Shorty; for poor stupidShorty's honesty had not been proof against frontier temptations, and hehad fallen away from the company of his old friends. Often of late Ihad heard talk at Sunk Creek of breaking up a certain gang of horse andcattle thieves that stole in one Territory and sold in the next, andknew where to hide in the mountains between. And now it had come to thepoint; forces had been gathered, a long expedition made, and here theywere, successful under the Virginian's lead, but a little later thantheir calculations. And here was I, a little too early, and a witness inconsequence. My presence seemed a simple thing to account for; but whenI had thus accounted for it, one of them said with good nature:-- "Soyou find us here, and we find you here. Which is the most surprised, Iwonder?"

"There's no telling, " said I, keeping as amiable as I could; "nor anytelling which objects the most. "

"Oh, there's no objection here. You're welcome to stay. But not welcometo go, I expect. He ain't welcome to go, is he?"

By the answers that their faces gave him it was plain that I was not. "Not till we are through, " said one. 

"He needn't to see anything, "' another added. 

"Better sleep late to-morrow morning, " a third suggested to me. 

I did not wish to stay here. I could have made some sort of camp apartfrom them before dark; but in the face of their needless caution I washelpless. I made no attempt to inquire what kind of spy they imagined Icould be, what sort of rescue I could bring in this lonely country; mytoo early appearance seemed to be all that they looked at. And againmy eyes sought the prisoners. Certainly there were only two. One waschewing tobacco, and talking now and then to his guard as if nothingwere the matter. The other sat dull in silence, not moving his eyes;but his face worked, and I noticed how he continually moistened his drylips. As I looked at these doomed prisoners, whose fate I was invited tosleep through to-morrow morning, the one who was chewing quietly noddedto me. 

"You don't remember me?" he said. 

It was Steve! Steve of Medicine Bow! The pleasant Steve of my firstevening in the West. Some change of beard had delayed my instantrecognition of his face. Here he sat sentenced to die. A shock, chilland painful, deprived me of speech. 

He had no such weak feelings. "Have yu' been to Medicine Bow lately?" heinquired. "That's getting to be quite a while ago. "

I assented. I should have liked to say something natural and kind, but words stuck against my will, and I stood awkward and ill at ease, noticing idly that the silent one wore a gray flannel shirt like mine. Steve looked me over, and saw in my pocket the newspaper which I hadbrought from the railroad and on which I had pencilled a few expenses. He asked me, Would I mind letting him have it for a while? And I gaveit to him eagerly, begging him to keep it as long as he wanted. I wasovereager in my embarrassment. "You need not return it at all, " I said;"those notes are nothing. Do keep it. "

He gave me a short glance and a smile. "Thank you, " he said; "I'll notneed it beyond to-morrow morning. " And he began to search through it. "Jake's election is considered sure, " he said to his companion, whomade no response. "Well, Fremont County owes it to Jake. " And I left himinterested in the local news. 

Dead men I have seen not a few times, even some lying pale and terribleafter violent ends, and the edge of this wears off; but I hope I shallnever again have to be in the company with men waiting to be killed. By this time to-morrow the gray flannel shirt would be buttoned rounda corpse. Until what moment would Steve chew? Against such fancies asthese I managed presently to barricade my mind, but I made a plea to beallowed to pass the night elsewhere, and I suggested the adjacent cabin. By their faces I saw that my words merely helped their distrust of me. The cabin leaked too much, they said; I would sleep drier here. One mangave it to me more directly: "If you figured on camping in this stable, what has changed your mind?" How could I tell them that I shrunk fromany contact with what they were doing, although I knew that only socould justice be dealt in this country? Their wholesome frontier nervesknew nothing of such refinements. 

But the Virginian understood part of it. "I am right sorry for yourannoyance, " he said. And now I noticed he was under a constraint verydifferent from the ease of the others. 

After the twelve hours' ride my bones were hungry for rest. I spread myblankets on some straw in a stall by myself and rolled up in them; yetI lay growing broader awake, every inch of weariness stricken from myexcited senses. For a while they sat over their councils, whisperingcautiously, so that I was made curious to hear them by not being able;was it the names of Trampas and Shorty that were once or twice spoken--Icould not be sure. I heard the whisperers cease and separate. I heardtheir boots as they cast them off upon the ground. And I heard thebreathing of slumber begin and grow in the interior silence. To oneafter one sleep came, but not to me. Outside, the dull fall of the rainbeat evenly, and in some angle dripped the spouting pulses of a leak. Sometimes a cold air blew in, bearing with it the keen wet odor of thesage-brush. On hundreds of other nights this perfume had been my lastwaking remembrance; it had seemed to help drowsiness; and now I laystaring, thinking of this. Twice through the hours the thieves shiftedtheir positions with clumsy sounds, exchanging muted words with theirguard. So, often, had I heard other companions move and mutter in thedarkness and lie down again. It was the very naturalness and usualnessof every fact of the night, --the stable straw, the rain outside, myfamiliar blankets, the cool visits of the wind, --and with all this thethought of Steve chewing and the man in the gray flannel shirt, thatmade the hours unearthly and strung me tight with suspense. And at lastI heard some one get up and begin to dress. In a little while I sawlight suddenly through my closed eyelids, and then darkness shut againabruptly upon them. They had swung in a lantern and found me by mistake. I was the only one they did not wish to rouse. Moving and quiet talkingset up around me, and they began to go out of the stable. At the gleamsof new daylight which they let in my thoughts went to the clump ofcottonwoods, and I lay still with hands and feet growing steadilycold. Now it was going to happen. I wondered how they would do it; oneinstance had been described to me by a witness, but that was done from abridge, and there had been but a single victim. This morning, would onehave to wait and see the other go through with it first?

The smell of smoke reached me, and next the rattle of tin dishes. Breakfast was something I had forgotten, and one of them was cooking itnow in the dry shelter of the stable. He was alone, because the talkingand the steps were outside the stable, and I could hear the sounds ofhorses being driven into the corral and saddled. Then I perceived thatthe coffee was ready, and almost immediately the cook called them. Onecame in, shutting the door behind him as he reentered, which the rest asthey followed imitated; for at each opening of the door I saw the lightof day leap into the stable and heard the louder sounds of the rain. Then the sound and the light would again be shut out, until some one atlength spoke out bluntly, bidding the door be left open on account ofthe smoke. What were they hiding from? he asked. The runaways that hadescaped? A laugh followed this sally, and the door was left open. ThusI learned that there had been more thieves than the two that werecaptured. It gave a little more ground for their suspicion about me andmy anxiety to pass the night elsewhere. It cost nothing to detain me, and they were taking no chances, however remote. 

The fresh air and the light now filled the stable, and I lay listeningwhile their breakfast brought more talk from them. They were more atease now than was I, who had nothing to do but carry out my role ofslumber in the stall; they spoke in a friendly, ordinary way, as if thiswere like every other morning of the week to them. They addressed theprisoners with a sort of fraternal kindness, not bringing them pointedlyinto the conversation, nor yet pointedly leaving them out. I made outthat they must all be sitting round the breakfast together, those whohad to die and those who had to kill them. The Virginian I never heardspeak. But I heard the voice of Steve; he discussed with his captors thesundry points of his capture. 

"Do you remember a haystack?" he asked. "Away up the south fork of GrosVentre?"

"That was Thursday afternoon, " said one of the captors. "There was ashower. "

"Yes. It rained. We had you fooled that time. I was laying on the ledgeabove to report your movements. "

Several of them laughed. "We thought you were over on Spread Creekthen. "

"I figured you thought so by the trail you left after the stack. Saturday we watched you turn your back on us up Spread Creek. We weresnug among the trees the other side of Snake River. That was anothertime we had you fooled. "

They laughed again at their own expense. I have heard men pick to piecesa hand of whist with more antagonism. 

Steve continued: "Would we head for Idaho? Would we swing back over theDivide? You didn't know which! And when we generalled you on to thatband of horses you thought was the band you were hunting--ah, we were astrong combination!" He broke off with the first touch of bitterness Ihad felt in his words. 

"Nothing is any stronger than its weakest point. " It was the Virginianwho said this, and it was the first word he had spoken. 

"Naturally, " said Steve. His tone in addressing the Virginian was sodifferent, so curt, that I supposed he took the weakest point tomean himself. But the others now showed me that I was wrong in thisexplanation. 

"That's so, " one said. "Its weakest point is where a rope or a gang ofmen is going to break when the strain comes. And you was linked with apoor partner, Steve. "

"You're right I was, " said the prisoner, back in his easy, casual voice. 

"You ought to have got yourself separated from him, Steve. "

There was a pause. "Yes, " said the prisoner, moodily. "I'm sitting herebecause one of us blundered. " He cursed the blunderer. "Lighting hisfool fire queered the whole deal, " he added. As he again heavily cursedthe blunderer, the others murmured to each other various I told youso's. 

"You'd never have built that fire, Steve, " said one. 

"I said that when we spied the smoke, " said another. "I said, 'That'snone of Steve's work, lighting fires and revealing to us theirwhereabouts. '"

It struck me that they were plying Steve with compliments. 

"Pretty hard to have the fool get away and you get caught, " a thirdsuggested. At this they seemed to wait. I felt something curious in allthis last talk. 

"Oh, did he get away?" said the prisoner, then. 

Again they waited; and a new voice spoke huskily:-- "I built that fire, boys. " It was the prisoner in the gray flannel shirt. 

"Too late, Ed, " they told him kindly. "You ain't a good liar. "

"What makes you laugh, Steve?" said some one. 

"Oh, the things I notice. "

"Meaning Ed was pretty slow in backing up your play? The joke is reallyon you, Steve. You'd ought never to have cursed the fire-builder ifyou wanted us to believe he was present. But we'd not have done much toShorty, even if we had caught him. All he wants is to be scared good andhard, and he'll go back into virtuousness, which is his nature when nottravelling with Trampas. "

Steve's voice sounded hard now. "You have caught Ed and me. That shouldsatisfy you for one gather. "

"Well, we think different, Steve. Trampas escaping leaves this thingunfinished. "

"So Trampas escaped too, did he?" said the prisoner. 

"Yes, Steve, Trampas escaped--this time; and Shorty with him--this time. We know it most as well as if we'd seen them go. And we're glad Shortyis loose, for he'll build another fire or do some other foolishness nexttime, and that's the time we'll get Trampas. "

Their talk drifted to other points, and I lay thinking of the skirmishthat had played beneath the surface of their banter. Yes, the joke, asthey put it, was on Steve. He had lost one point in the game to them. They were playing for names. He, being a chivalrous thief, was playingto hide names. They could only, among several likely confederates, guessTrampas and Shorty. So it had been a slip for him to curse the manwho built the fire. At least, they so held it. For, they with subtletyreasoned, one curses the absent. And I agreed with them that Ed did notknow how to lie well; he should have at once claimed the disgraceof having spoiled the expedition. If Shorty was the blunderer, thencertainly Trampas was the other man; for the two were as inseparable asdon and master. Trampas had enticed Shorty away from good, and trainedhim in evil. It now struck me that after his single remark the Virginianhad been silent throughout their shrewd discussion. 

It was the other prisoner that I heard them next address. "You don't eatany breakfast, Ed. "

"Brace up, Ed. Look at Steve, how hardy he eats!"

But Ed, it seemed, wanted no breakfast. And the tin dishes rattled asthey were gathered and taken to be packed. 

"Drink this coffee, anyway, " another urged; "you'll feel warmer. "

These words almost made it seem like my own execution. My whole bodyturned cold in company with the prisoner's, and as if with a clank thesituation tightened throughout my senses. 

"I reckon if every one's ready we'll start. " It was the Virginian'svoice once more, and different from the rest. I heard them rise at hisbidding, and I put the blanket over my head. I felt their tread as theywalked out, passing my stall. The straw that was half under me and halfout in the stable was stirred as by something heavy dragged or halflifted along over it. "Look out, you're hurting Ed's arm, " one said toanother, as the steps with tangled sounds passed slowly out. I heardanother among those who followed say, "Poor Ed couldn't swallow hiscoffee. " Outside they began getting on their horses; and next theirhoofs grew distant, until all was silence round the stable except thedull, even falling of the rain. 

XXXI. THE COTTONWOODS

I do not know how long I stayed there alone. It was the Virginian whocame back, and as he stood at the foot of my blankets his eye, aftermeeting mine full for a moment, turned aside. I had never seen himlook as he did now, not even in Pitchstone Canyon when we came upon thebodies of Hank and his wife. Until this moment we had found no chance ofspeaking together, except in the presence of others. 

"Seems to be raining still, " I began after a little. 

"Yes. It's a wet spell. "

He stared out of the door, smoothing his mustache. 

It was again I that spoke. "What time is it?"

He brooded over his watch. "Twelve minutes to seven. "

I rose and stood drawing on my clothes. 

"The fire's out, " said he; and he assembled some new sticks over theashes. Presently he looked round with a cup. 

"Never mind that for me, " I said

"We've a long ride, " he suggested. 

"I know. I've crackers in my pocket. "

My boots being pulled on, I walked to the door and watched the clouds. "They seem as if they might lift, " I said. And I took out my watch. 

"What time is it?" he asked. 

"A quarter of--it's run down. "

While I wound it he seemed to be consulting his own. 

"Well?" I inquired. 

"Ten minutes past seven. "

As I was setting my watch he slowly said:

"Steve wound his all regular. I had to night-guard him till two. " Hisspeech was like that of one in a trance: so, at least, it sounds in mymemory to-day. 

Again I looked at the weather and the rainy immensity of the plain. Thefoot-hills eastward where we were going were a soft yellow. Over thegray-green sage-brush moved shapeless places of light--not yet theuncovered sunlight, but spots where the storm was wearing thin; andwandering streams of warmth passed by slowly in the surrounding air. As I watched the clouds and the earth, my eyes chanced to fall on thedistant clump of cottonwoods. Vapors from the enfeebled storm floatedround them, and they were indeed far away; but I came inside and beganrolling up my blankets. 

"You will not change your mind?" said the Virginian by the fire. "It isthirty-five miles. "

I shook my head, feeling a certain shame that he should see how unnervedI was. 

He swallowed a hot cupful, and after it sat thinking; and presently hepassed his hand across his brow, shutting his eyes. Again he pouredout a cup, and emptying this, rose abruptly to his feet as if shakinghimself free from something. 

"Let's pack and quit here, " he said. 

Our horses were in the corral and our belongings in the shelter of whathad been once the cabin at this forlorn place. He collected them insilence while I saddled my own animal, and in silence we packed the twopackhorses, and threw the diamond hitch, and hauled tight the slack, damp ropes. Soon we had mounted, and as we turned into the trail I gavea look back at my last night's lodging. 

The Virginian noticed me. "Good-by forever!" he interpreted. 

"By God, I hope so!"

"Same here, " he confessed. And these were our first natural words thismorning. 

"This will go well, " said I, holding my flask out to him; and both of ustook some, and felt easier for it and the natural words. 

For an hour we had been shirking real talk, holding fast to the weather, or anything, and all the while that silent thing we were keepingoff spoke plainly in the air around us and in every syllable that weuttered. But now we were going to get away from it; leave it behind inthe stable, and set ourselves free from it by talking it out. Alreadyrelief had begun to stir in my spirits. 

"You never did this before, " I said. 

"No. I never had it to do. " He was riding beside me, looking down at hissaddle-horn. 

"I do not think I should ever be able, " I pursued. 

Defiance sounded in his answer. "I would do it again this morning. "

"Oh, I don't mean that. It's all right here. There's no other way. "

"I would do it all over again the same this morning. Just the same. "

"Why, so should I--if I could do it at all. " I still thought he wasjustifying their justice to me. 

He made no answer as he rode along, looking all the while at his saddle. But again he passed his hand over his forehead with that frown andshutting of the eyes. 

"I should like to be sure I should behave myself if I were condemned, " Isaid next. For it now came to me--which should I resemble? Could I readthe newspaper, and be interested in county elections, and discuss comingdeath as if I had lost a game of cards? Or would they have to drag meout? That poor wretch in the gray flannel shirt--"It was bad in thestable, " I said aloud. For an after-shiver of it went through me. 

A third time his hand brushed his forehead, and I ventured somesympathy. 

"I'm afraid your head aches. "

"I don't want to keep seeing Steve, " he muttered. 

"Steve!" I was astounded. "Why he--why all I saw of him was splendid. Since it had to be. It was--"

"Oh, yes; Ed. You're thinking about him. I'd forgot him. So you didn'tenjoy Ed?"

At this I looked at him blankly. "It isn't possible that--"

Again he cut me short with a laugh almost savage. "You needn't to worryabout Steve. He stayed game. "

What then had been the matter that he should keep seeing Steve--that hisvision should so obliterate from him what I still shivered at, and soshake him now? For he seemed to be growing more stirred as I grew less. I asked him no further questions, however, and we went on for severalminutes, he brooding always in the same fashion, until he resumed withthe hard indifference that had before surprised me:-- "So Ed gave youfeelings! Dumb ague and so forth. "

"No doubt we're not made the same way, " I retorted. 

He took no notice of this. "And you'd have been more comfortable if he'dacted same as Steve did. It cert'nly was bad seeing Ed take it that way, I reckon. And you didn't see him when the time came for business. Well, here's what it is: a man maybe such a confirmed miscreant thatkilling's the only cure for him; but still he's your own species, andyou don't want to have him fall around and grab your laigs and show youhis fear naked. It makes you feel ashamed. So Ed gave you feelings, andSteve made everything right easy for you!" There was irony in his voiceas he surveyed me, but it fell away at once into sadness. "Both wasmiscreants. But if Steve had played the coward, too, it would have beena whole heap easier for me. " He paused before adding, "And Steve was nota miscreant once. "

His voice had trembled, and I felt the deep emotion that seemed to gainupon him now that action was over and he had nothing to do but think. And his view was simple enough: you must die brave. Failure is a sortof treason to the brotherhood, and forfeits pity. It was Steve's perfectbearing that had caught his heart so that he forgot even his scorn ofthe other man. 

But this was by no means all that was to come. He harked back to thatnotion of a prisoner helping to make it easy for his executioner. "Easy plumb to the end, " he pursued, his mind reviewing the acts of themorning. "Why, he tried to give me your newspaper. I didn't--"

"Oh, no, " I said hastily. "I had finished with it. "

"Well, he took dying as naturally as he took living. Like a man should. Like I hope to. " Again he looked at the pictures in his mind. "Noplay-acting nor last words. He just told good-by to the boys as we ledhis horse under the limb--you needn't to look so dainty, " he broke off. "You ain't going to get any more shocking particulars. "

"I know I'm white-livered, " I said with a species of laugh. "I nevercrowd and stare when somebody is hurt in the street. I get away. "

He thought this over. "You don't mean all of that. You'd not have spokejust that way about crowding and staring if you thought well of themthat stare. Staring ain't courage; it's trashy curiosity. Now you didnot have this thing--"

He had stretched out his hand to point, but it fell, and his utterancestopped, and he jerked his horse to a stand. My nerves sprang like awire at his suddenness, and I looked where he was looking. There werethe cottonwoods, close in front of us. As we had travelled and talkedwe had forgotten them. Now they were looming within a hundred yards; andour trail lay straight through them. 

"Let's go around them, " said the Virginian. 

When we had come back from our circuit into the trail he continued:"You did not have that thing to do. But a man goes through with hisresponsibilities--and I reckon you could. "

"I hope so, " I answered. "How about Ed?"

"He was not a man, though we thought he was till this. Steve and Istarted punching cattle together at the Bordeaux outfit, north ofCheyenne. We did everything together in those days--work and play. Sixyears ago. Steve had many good points onced. "

We must have gone two miles before he spoke again. "You prob'ly didn'tnotice Steve? I mean the way he acted to me?" It was a question, but hedid not wait for my answer. "Steve never said a word to me all through. He shunned it. And you saw how neighborly he talked to the other boys. "

"Where have they all gone?" I asked. 

He smiled at me. "It cert'nly is lonesome now, for a fact. "

"I didn't know you felt it, " said I. 

"Feel it!--they've went to the railroad. Three of them are witnessesin a case at Evanston, and the Judge wants our outfit at Medicine Bow. Steve shunned me. Did he think I was going back on him?"

"What if he did? You were not. And so nobody's going to Wind River butyou?"

"No. Did you notice Steve would not give us any information aboutShorty? That was right. I would have acted that way, too. " Thus, eachtime, he brought me back to the subject. 

The sun was now shining warm during two or three minutes together, andgulfs of blue opened in the great white clouds. These moved and metamong each other, and parted, like hands spread out, slowly weavinga spell of sleep over the day after the wakeful night storm. Thehuge contours of the earth lay basking and drying, and not one livingcreature, bird or beast, was in sight. Quiet was returning to my revivedspirits, but there was none for the Virginian. And as he reasonedmatters out aloud, his mood grew more overcast. 

"You have a friend, and his ways are your ways. You travel together, you spree together confidentially, and you suit each other down to theground. Then one day you find him putting his iron on another man'scalf. You tell him fair and square those ways have never been your waysand ain't going to be your ways. Well, that does not change him any, forit seems he's disturbed over getting rich quick and being a big manin the Territory. And the years go on, until you are foreman of JudgeHenry's ranch and he--is dangling back in the cottonwoods. What can heclaim? Who made the choice? He cannot say, 'Here is my old friend that Iwould have stood by. ' Can he say that?"

"But he didn't say it, " I protested. 

"No. He shunned me. "

"Listen, " I said. "Suppose while you were on guard he had whispered, 'Get me off'--would you have done it?"

"No, sir!" said the Virginian, hotly. 

"Then what do you want?" I asked. "What did you want?"

He could not answer me--but I had not answered him, I saw; so I pushedit farther. "Did you want indorsement from the man you were hanging?That's asking a little too much. "

But he had now another confusion. "Steve stood by Shorty, " he saidmusingly. "It was Shorty's mistake cost him his life, but all the samehe didn't want us to catch--"

"You are mixing things, " I interrupted. "I never heard you mix thingsbefore. And it was not Shorty's mistake. "

He showed momentary interest. "Whose then?"

"The mistake of whoever took a fool into their enterprise. "

"That's correct. Well, Trampas took Shorty in, and Steve would not tellon him either. "

I still tried it, saying, "They were all in the same boat. " But logicwas useless; he had lost his bearings in a fog of sentiment. He knew, knew passionately, that he had done right; but the silence of his oldfriend to him through those last hours left a sting that no reasoningcould assuage. "He told good-by to the rest of the boys; but not to me. "And nothing that I could point out in common sense turned him fromthe thread of his own argument. He worked round the circle again toself-justification. "Was it him I was deserting? Was not the desertingdone by him the day I spoke my mind about stealing calves? I have keptmy ways the same. He is the one that took to new ones. The man I used totravel with is not the man back there. Same name, to be sure. And samebody. But different in--and yet he had the memory! You can't neverchange your memory!"

He gave a sob. It was the first I had ever heard from him, and beforeI knew what I was doing I had reined my horse up to his and put my armaround his shoulders. I had no sooner touched him than he was utterlyovercome. "I knew Steve awful well, " he said. 

Thus we had actually come to change places; for early in the morning hehad been firm while I was unnerved, while now it was I who attempted tosteady and comfort him. 

I had the sense to keep silent, and presently he shook my hand, notlooking at me as he did so. He was always very shy of demonstration. And he took to patting the neck of his pony. "You Monte hawss, " said he, "you think you are wise, but there's a lot of things you don't savvy. "Then he made a new beginning of talk between us. 

"It is kind of pitiful about Shorty. "

"Very pitiful, " I said. 

"Do you know about him?" the Virginian asked. 

"I know there's no real harm in him, and some real good, and that he hasnot got the brains necessary to be a horse thief. "

"That's so. That's very true. Trampas has led him in deeper than hisstature can stand. Now back East you can be middling and get along. Butif you go to try a thing on in this Western country, you've got to do itWELL. You've got to deal cyards WELL; you've got to steal WELL; and ifyou claim to be quick with your gun, you must be quick, for you're apublic temptation, and some man will not resist trying to prove he isthe quicker. You must break all the Commandments WELL in this Westerncountry, and Shorty should have stayed in Brooklyn, for he will be anovice his livelong days. You don't know about him? He has told me hiscircumstances. He don't remember his father, and it was like he couldhave claimed three or four. And I expect his mother was not muchinterested in him before or after he was born. He ran around, and whenhe was eighteen he got to be help to a grocery man. But a girl he ranwith kept taking all his pay and teasing him for more, and so one daythe grocery man caught Shorty robbing his till, and fired him. Therewasn't no one to tell good-by to, for the girl had to go to the countryto see her aunt, she said. So Shorty hung around the store and kissedthe grocery cat good-by. He'd been used to feeding the cat, and she'dsit in his lap and purr, he told me. He sends money back to that girlnow. This hyeh country is no country for Shorty, for he will be aconspicuous novice all his days. "

"Perhaps he'll prefer honesty after his narrow shave, " I said. 

But the Virginian shook his head. "Trampas has got hold of him. "

The day was now all blue above, and all warm and dry beneath. We hadbegun to wind in and rise among the first slopes of the foot-hills, andwe had talked ourselves into silence. At the first running water we madea long nooning, and I slept on the bare ground. My body was lodged sofast and deep in slumber that when the Virginian shook me awake I couldnot come back to life at once; it was the clump of cottonwoods, smalland far out in the plain below us, that recalled me. 

"It'll not be watching us much longer, " said the Virginian. He made ita sort of joke; but I knew that both of us were glad when presently werode into a steeper country, and among its folds and carvings lost allsight of the plain. He had not slept, I found. His explanation was thatthe packs needed better balancing, and after that he had gone up anddown the stream on the chance of trout. But his haunted eyes gave me thereal reason--they spoke of Steve, no matter what he spoke of; it was tobe no short thing with him. 

XXXII. SUPERSTITION TRAIL

We did not make thirty-five miles that day, nor yet twenty-five, forhe had let me sleep. We made an early camp and tried some unsuccessfulfishing, over which he was cheerful, promising trout to-morrow when weshould be higher among the mountains. He never again touched or camenear the subject that was on his mind, but while I sat writing my diary, he went off to his horse Monte, and I could hear that he occasionallytalked to that friend. 

Next day we swung southward from what is known to many as the Conanttrail, and headed for that short cut through the Tetons which is knownto but a few. Bitch Creek was the name of the stream we now followed, and here there was such good fishing that we idled; and the horses andI at least enjoyed ourselves. For they found fresh pastures and shade inthe now plentiful woods; and the mountain odors and the mountain heightswere enough for me when the fish refused to rise. This road of ours nowbecame the road which the pursuit had taken before the capture. Goingalong, I noticed the footprints of many hoofs, rain-blurred but recent, and these were the tracks of the people I had met in the stable. 

"You can notice Monte's, " said the Virginian. "He is the only one thathas his hind feet shod. There's several trails from this point down towhere we have come from. "

We mounted now over a long slant of rock, smooth and of wide extent. Above us it went up easily into a little side canyon, but ahead, whereour way was, it grew so steep that we got off and led our horses. This brought us to the next higher level of the mountain, a space ofsagebrush more open, where the rain-washed tracks appeared again in thesofter ground. 

"Some one has been here since the rain, " I called to the Virginian, whowas still on the rock, walking up behind the packhorses. 

"Since the rain!" he exclaimed. "That's not two days yet. " He came andexamined the footprints. "A man and a hawss, " he said, frowning. "Goingthe same way we are. How did he come to pass us, and us not see him?"

"One of the other trails, " I reminded him. 

"Yes, but there's not many that knows them. They are pretty roughtrails. "

"Worse than this one we're taking?"

"Not much; only how does he come to know any of them? And why don't hetake the Conant trail that's open and easy and not much longer? One manand a hawss. I don't see who he is or what he wants here. "

"Probably a prospector, " I suggested. 

"Only one outfit of prospectors has ever been here, and they claimedthere was no mineral-bearing rock in these parts. "

We got back into our saddles with the mystery unsolved. To the Virginianit was a greater one, apparently, than to me; why should one have toaccount for every stray traveller in the mountains?

"That's queer, too, " said the Virginian. He was now riding in front ofme, and he stopped, looking down at the trail. "Don't you notice?"

It did not strike me. 

"Why, he keeps walking beside his hawss; he don't get on him. "

Now we, of course, had mounted at the beginning of the better trailafter the steep rock, and that was quite half a mile back. Still, I hada natural explanation. "He's leading a packhorse. He's a poor trapper, and walks. "

"Packhorses ain't usually shod before and behind, " said the Virginian;and sliding to the ground he touched the footprints. "They are not fourhours old, " said he. "This bank's in shadow by one o'clock, and the sunhas not cooked them dusty. "

We continued on our way; and although it seemed no very particularthing to me that a man should choose to walk and lead his horse for awhile, --I often did so to limber my muscles, --nevertheless I began tocatch the Virginian's uncertain feeling about this traveller whose stepshad appeared on our path in mid-journey, as if he had alighted from themid-air, and to remind myself that he had come over the great face ofrock from another trail and thus joined us, and that indigent trappersare to be found owning but a single horse and leading him with theirbelongings through the deepest solitudes of the mountains--none of thisquite brought back to me the comfort which had been mine since we leftthe cottonwoods out of sight down in the plain. Hence I called outsharply, "What's the matter now?" when the Virginian suddenly stoppedhis horse again. 

He looked down at the trail, and then he very slowly turned round in hissaddle and stared back steadily at me. "There's two of them, " he said. 

"Two what?"

"I don't know. "

"You must know whether it's two horses or two men, " I said, almostangrily. 

But to this he made no answer, sitting quite still on his horse andcontemplating the ground. The silence was fastening on me like a spell, and I spurred my horse impatiently forward to see for myself. Thefootprints of two men were there in the trail. 

"What do you say to that?" said the Virginian. "Kind of ridiculous, ain't it?"

"Very quaint, " I answered, groping for the explanation. There was norock here to walk over and step from into the softer trail. These secondsteps came more out of the air than the first. And my brain played methe evil trick of showing me a dead man in a gray flannel shirt. 

"It's two, you see, travelling with one hawss, and they take turnsriding him. "

"Why, of course!" I exclaimed; and we went along for a few paces. 

"There you are, " said the Virginian, as the trail proved him right. "Number one has got on. My God, what's that?"

At a crashing in the woods very close to us we both flung round andcaught sight of a vanishing elk. 

It left us confronted, smiling a little, and sounding each other withour eyes. "Well, we didn't need him for meat, " said the Virginian. 

"A spike-horn, wasn't it?" said I. 

"Yes, just a spike-horn. "

For a while now as we rode we kept up a cheerful conversation about elk. We wondered if we should meet many more close to the trail like this;but it was not long before our words died away. We had come into averitable gulf of mountain peaks, sharp at their bare summits liketeeth, holding fields of snow lower down, and glittering still in fullday up there, while down among our pines and parks the afternoon wasgrowing sombre. All the while the fresh hoofprints of the horse and thefresh footprints of the man preceded us. In the trees, and in the opens, across the levels, and up the steeps, they were there. And so they werenot four hours old! Were they so much? Might we not, round some turn, come upon the makers of them? I began to watch for this. And again mybrain played me an evil trick, against which I found myself actuallyreasoning thus: if they took turns riding, then walking must tire themas it did me or any man. And besides, there was a horse. With suchthoughts I combated the fancy that those footprints were being madeimmediately in front of us all the while, and that they were the onlysign of any presence which our eyes could see. But my fancy overcame mythoughts. It was shame only which held me from asking this question ofthe Virginian: Had one horse served in both cases of Justice down atthe cottonwoods? I wondered about this. One horse--or had the stranglingnooses dragged two saddles empty at the same signal? Most likely; andtherefore these people up here--Was I going back to the nursery? Ibrought myself up short. And I told myself to be steady; there lurked inthis brain-process which was going on beneath my reason a threat worsethan the childish apprehensions it created. I reminded myself that I wasa man grown, twenty-five years old, and that I must not merely seem likeone, but feel like one. "You're not afraid of the dark, I suppose?" ThisI uttered aloud, unwittingly. 

"What's that?"

I started; but it was only the Virginian behind me. "Oh, nothing. Theair is getting colder up here. "

I had presently a great relief. We came to a place where again thistrail mounted so abruptly that we once more got off to lead ourhorses. So likewise had our predecessors done; and as I watched the twodifferent sets of footprints, I observed something and hastened to speakof it. 

"One man is much heavier than the other. "

"I was hoping I'd not have to tell you that, " said the Virginian. 

"You're always ahead of me! Well, still my education is progressing. "

"Why, yes. You'll equal an Injun if you keep on. "

It was good to be facetious; and I smiled to myself as I trudged upward. We came off the steep place, leaving the canyon beneath us, and took tohorseback. And as we proceeded over the final gentle slant up to therim of the great basin that was set among the peaks, the Virginian wasjocular once more. 

"Pounds has got on, " said he, "and Ounces is walking. "

I glanced over my shoulder at him, and he nodded as he fixed theweather-beaten crimson handkerchief round his neck. Then he threwa stone at a pack animal that was delaying on the trail. "Damn yourbuckskin hide, " he drawled. "You can view the scenery from the top. "

He was so natural, sitting loose in the saddle, and cursing in hisgentle voice, that I laughed to think what visions I had been harboring. The two dead men riding one horse through the mountains vanished, and Icame back to every day. 

"Do you think we'll catch up with those people?" I asked. 

"Not likely. They're travelling about the same gait we are. "

"Ounces ought to be the best walker. "

"Up hill, yes. But Pounds will go down a-foggin'. "

We gained the rim of the basin. It lay below us, a great cup ofcountry, --rocks, woods, opens, and streams. The tall peaks rose likespires around it, magnificent and bare in the last of the sun; and wesurveyed this upper world, letting our animals get breath. Our bleak, crumbled rim ran like a rampart between the towering tops, a half circleof five miles or six, very wide in some parts, and in some shrinking toa scanty foothold, as here. Here our trail crossed over it between twoeroded and fantastic shapes of stone, like mushrooms, or misshapen headson pikes. Banks of snow spread up here against the black rocks, buthalf an hour would see us descended to the green and the woods. I lookeddown, both of us looked down, but our forerunners were not there. 

"They'll be camping somewhere in this basin, though, " said theVirginian, staring at the dark pines. "They have not come this trail byaccident. "

A cold little wind blew down between our stone shapes, and upward again, eddying. And round a corner upward with it came fluttering a leaf ofnewspaper, and caught against an edge close to me. 

"What's the latest?" inquired the Virginian from his horse. For I haddismounted, and had picked up the leaf. 

"Seems to be interesting, " I next heard him say. "Can't you tell a manwhat's making your eyes bug out so?"

"Yes, " my voice replied to him, and it sounded like some strangerspeaking lightly near by; "oh, yes! Decidedly interesting. " My voicemimicked his pronunciation. "It's quite the latest, I imagine. You hadbetter read it yourself. " And I handed it to him with a smile, watchinghis countenance, while my brain felt as if clouds were rushing throughit. 

I saw his eyes quietly run the headings over "Well?" he inquired, after scanning it on both sides. "I don't seem to catch the excitement. Fremont County is going to hold elections. I see they claim Jake--"

"It's mine, " I cut him off. "My own paper. Those are my pencil marks. "

I do not think that a microscope could have discerned a change inhis face. "Oh, " he commented, holding the paper, and fixing it with acritical eye. "You mean this is the one you lent Steve, and he wantedto give me to give back to you. And so them are your own marks. " For amoment more he held it judicially, as I have seen men hold a contractupon whose terms they were finally passing. "Well, you have got it backnow, anyway. " And he handed it to me. 

"Only a piece of it!" I exclaimed, always lightly. And as I took it fromhim his hand chanced to touch mine. It was cold as ice. 

"They ain't through readin' the rest, " he explained easily. "Don't youthrow it away! After they've taken such trouble. "

"That's true, " I answered. "I wonder if it's Pounds or Ounces I'mindebted to. "

Thus we made further merriment as we rode down into the great basin. Before us, the horse and boot tracks showed plain in the soft sloughwhere melted snow ran half the day. 

"If it's a paper chase, " said the Virginian, "they'll drop no more alonghere. "

"Unless it gets dark, " said I. 

"We'll camp before that. Maybe we'll see their fire. "

We did not see their fire. We descended in the chill silence, while themushroom rocks grew far and the sombre woods approached. By a stream wegot off where two banks sheltered us; for a bleak wind cut down over thecrags now and then, making the pines send out a great note through thebasin, like breakers in a heavy sea. But we made cosey in the tent. We pitched the tent this night, and I was glad to have it shut out themountain peaks. They showed above the banks where we camped; and in thestarlight their black shapes rose stark against the sky. They, with thepines and the wind, were a bedroom too unearthly this night. And as soonas our supper dishes were washed we went inside to our lantern and ourgame of cribbage. 

"This is snug, " said the Virginian, as we played. "That wind don't getdown here. "

"Smoking is snug, too, " said I. And we marked our points for an hour, with no words save about the cards. 

"I'll be pretty near glad when we get out of these mountains, " said theVirginian. "They're most too big. "

The pines had altogether ceased; but their silence was as tremendous astheir roar had been. 

"I don't know, though, " he resumed. "There's times when the plains canbe awful big, too. "

Presently we finished a hand, and he said, "Let me see that paper. "

He sat readin, it apparently through, while I arranged my blankets tomake a warm bed. Then, since the paper continued to absorb him, I gotmyself ready, and slid between my blankets for the night. "You'll needanother candle soon in that lantern, " said I. 

He put the paper down. "I would do it all over again, " he began. "Thewhole thing just the same. He knowed the customs of the country, and heplayed the game. No call to blame me for the customs of the country. Youleave other folks' cattle alone, or you take the consequences, and itwas all known to Steve from the start. Would he have me take the Judge'swages and give him the wink? He must have changed a heap from the SteveI knew if he expected that. I don't believe he expected that. He knewwell enough the only thing that would have let him off would have beena regular jury. For the thieves have got hold of the juries in JohnsonCounty. I would do it all over, just the same. "

The expiring flame leaped in the lantern, and fell blue. He broke offin his words as if to arrange the light, but did not, sitting silentinstead, just visible, and seeming to watch the death struggle of theflame. I could find nothing to say to him, and I believed he was nowwinning his way back to serenity by himself. He kept his outward manso nearly natural that I forgot about that cold touch of his hand, andnever guessed how far out from reason the tide of emotion was even nowwhirling him. "I remember at Cheyenne onced, " he resumed. And he toldme of a Thanksgiving visit to town that he had made with Steve. "Wewas just colts then, " he said. He dwelt on their coltish doings, theiradventures sought and wrought in the perfect fellowship of youth. "ForSteve and me most always hunted in couples back in them gamesome years, "he explained. And he fell into the elemental talk of sex, such talkas would be an elk's or tiger's; and spoken so by him, simply andnaturally, as we speak of the seasons, or of death, or of any actuality, it was without offense. It would be offense should I repeat it. Then, abruptly ending these memories of himself and Steve, he went out of thetent, and I heard him dragging a log to the fire. When it had blazed up, there on the tent wall was his shadow and that of the log where he satwith his half-broken heart. And all the while I supposed he was masterof himself, and self-justified against Steve's omission to bid himgood-by. 

I must have fallen asleep before he returned, for I remember nothingexcept waking and finding him in his blankets beside me. The fireshadow was gone, and gray, cold light was dimly on the tent. He sleptrestlessly, and his forehead was ploughed by lines of pain. While Ilooked at him he began to mutter, and suddenly started up with violence. "No!" he cried out; "no! Just the same!" and thus wakened himself, staring. "What's the matter?" he demanded. He was slow in getting backto where we were; and full consciousness found him sitting up with hiseyes fixed on mine. They were more haunted than they had been at all, and his next speech came straight from his dream. "Maybe you'd betterquit me. This ain't your trouble. "

I laughed. "Why, what is the trouble?"

His eyes still intently fixed on mine. "Do you think if we changed ourtrail we could lose them from us?"

I was framing a jocose reply about Ounces being a good walker, when thesound of hoofs rushing in the distance stopped me, and he ran out of thetent with his rifle. When I followed with mine he was up the bank, andall his powers alert. But nothing came out of the dimness save our threestampeded horses. They crashed over fallen timber and across the open towhere their picketed comrade grazed at the end of his rope. By him theycame to a stand, and told him, I suppose, what they had seen; for allfour now faced in the same direction, looking away into the mysteriousdawn. We likewise stood peering, and my rifle barrel felt cold in myhand. The dawn was all we saw, the inscrutable dawn, coming and comingthrough the black pines and the gray open of the basin. There abovelifted the peaks, no sun yet on them, and behind us our stream made alittle tinkling. 

"A bear, I suppose, " said I, at length. 

His strange look fixed me again, and then his eyes went to the horses. "They smell things we can't smell, " said he, very slowly. "Will youprove to me they don't see things we can't see?"

A chill shot through me, and I could not help a frightened glance wherewe had been watching. But one of the horses began to graze and I hada wholesome thought. "He's tired of whatever he sees, then, " said I, pointing. 

A smile came for a moment in the Virginian's face. "Must be a poorshow, " he observed. All the horses were grazing now, and he added, "Itain't hurt their appetites any. "

We made our own breakfast then. And what uncanny dread I may have beentouched with up to this time henceforth left me in the face of a realalarm. The shock of Steve was working upon the Virginian. He was awareof it himself; he was fighting it with all his might; and he was beingovercome. He was indeed like a gallant swimmer against whom both windand tide have conspired. And in this now foreboding solitude there wasonly myself to throw him ropes. His strokes for safety were as bold aswas the undertow that ceaselessly annulled them. 

"I reckon I made a fuss in the tent?" said he, feeling his way with me. 

I threw him a rope. "Yes. Nightmare--indigestion--too much newspaperbefore retiring. "

He caught the rope. "That's correct! I had a hell of a foolish dream fora growed-up man. You'd not think it of me. "

"Oh, yes, I should. I've had them after prolonged lobster andchampagne. "

"Ah, " he murmured, "prolonged! Prolonged is what does it. " He glancedbehind him. "Steve came back--"

"In your lobster dream, " I put in. 

But he missed this rope. "Yes, " he answered, with his eyes searching me. "And he handed me the paper--"

"By the way, where is that?" I asked. 

"I built the fire with it. But when I took it from him it was asix-shooter I had hold of, and pointing at my breast. And then Stevespoke. 'Do you think you're fit to live?' Steve said; and I got hot athim, and I reckon I must have told him what I thought of him. You heardme, I expect?"

"Glad I didn't. Your language sometimes is--"

He laughed out. "Oh, I account for all this that's happening just likeyou do. If we gave our explanations, they'd be pretty near twins. "

"The horses saw a bear, then?"

"Maybe a bear. Maybe "--but here the tide caught him again--"What's youridea about dreams?"

My ropes were all out. "Liver--nerves, " was the best I could do. 

But now he swam strongly by himself. 

"You may think I'm discreditable, " he said, "but I know I am. It oughtto take more than--well, men have lost their friendships before. Feudsand wars have cloven a right smart of bonds in twain. And if my haidis going to get shook by a little old piece of newspaper--I'm ashamed Iburned that. I'm ashamed to have been that weak. "

"Any man gets unstrung, " I told him. My ropes had become straws; and Istrove to frame some policy for the next hours. 

We now finished breakfast and set forth to catch the horses. As we drovethem in I found that the Virginian was telling me a ghost story. "Athalf-past three in the morning she saw her runaway daughter standingwith a babe in her arms; but when she moved it was all gone. Later theyfound it was the very same hour the young mother died in Nogales. Andshe sent for the child and raised it herself. I knowed them both backhome. Do you believe that?"

I said nothing. 

"No more do I believe it, " he asserted. "And see here! Nogales timeis three hours different from Richmond. I didn't know about that pointthen. "

Once out of these mountains, I knew he could right himself; but evenI, who had no Steve to dream about, felt this silence of the peaks waspreying on me. 

"Her daughter and her might have been thinkin' mighty hard about eachother just then, " he pursued. "But Steve is dead. Finished. You cert'nlydon't believe there's anything more?"

"I wish I could, " I told him. 

"No, I'm satisfied. Heaven didn't never interest me much. But if therewas a world of dreams after you went--" He stopped himself and turnedhis searching eyes away from mine. "There's a heap o' darkness whereveryou try to step, " he said, "and I thought I'd left off wasting thoughtson the subject. You see"--he dexterously roped a horse, and once morehis splendid sanity was turned to gold by his imagination--"I expectin many growed-up men you'd call sensible there's a little boysleepin'--the little kid they onced was--that still keeps his fearof the dark. You mentioned the dark yourself yesterday. Well, thisexperience has woke up that kid in me, and blamed if I can coax thelittle cuss to go to sleep again! I keep a-telling him daylight willsure come, but he keeps a-crying and holding on to me. "

Somewhere far in the basin there was a faint sound, and we stood still. 

"Hush!" he said. 

But it was like our watching the dawn; nothing more followed. 

"They have shot that bear, " I remarked. 

He did not answer, and we put the saddles on without talk. We made nohaste, but we were not over half an hour, I suppose, in getting off withthe packs. It was not a new thing to hear a shot where wild game was inplenty; yet as we rode that shot sounded already in my mind differentfrom others. Perhaps I should not believe this to-day but for what Ilook back to. To make camp last night we had turned off the trail, andnow followed the stream down for a while, taking next a cut through thewood. In this way we came upon the tracks of our horses where they hadbeen galloping back to the camp after their fright. They had kicked upthe damp and matted pine needles very plainly all along. 

"Nothing has been here but themselves, though, " said I. 

"And they ain't showing signs of remembering any scare, " said theVirginian. 

In a little while we emerged upon an open. 

"Here's where they was grazing, " said the Virginian; and the signs wereclear enough. "Here's where they must have got their scare, " he pursued. "You stay with them while I circle a little. " So I stayed; and certainlyour animals were very calm at visiting this scene. When you bring ahorse back to where he has recently encountered a wild animal his earsand his nostrils are apt to be wide awake. 

The Virginian had stopped and was beckoning to me. 

"Here's your bear, " said he, as I arrived. "Two-legged, you see. And hehad a hawss of his own. " There was a stake driven down where an animalhad been picketed for the night. 

"Looks like Ounces, " I said, considering the Footprints. 

"It's Ounces. And Ounces wanted another hawss very bad, so him andPounds could travel like gentlemen should. "

"But Pounds doesn't seem to have been with him. "

"Oh, Pounds, he was making coffee, somewheres in yonder, when thishappened. Neither of them guessed there'd be other hawsses wanderinghere in the night, or they both would have come. " He turned back to ourpack animals. 

"Then you'll not hunt for this camp to make sure?"

"I prefer making sure first. We might be expected at that camp. "

He took out his rifle from beneath his leg and set it across his saddleat half-cock. I did the same; and thus cautiously we resumed our journeyin a slightly different direction. "This ain't all we're going to findout, " said the Virginian. "Ounces had a good idea; but I reckon he madea bad mistake later. "

We had found out a good deal without any more, I thought. Ounces hadgone to bring in their single horse, and coming upon three more in thepasture had undertaken to catch one and failed, merely driving themwhere he feared to follow. 

"Shorty never could rope a horse alone, " I remarked. 

The Virginian grinned. "Shorty? Well, Shorty sounds as well as Ounces. But that ain't the mistake I'm thinking he made. "

I knew that he would not tell me, but that was just like him. For thelast twenty minutes, having something to do, he had become himselfagain, had come to earth from that unsafe country of the brain wherebeckoned a spectral Steve. Nothing was left but in his eyes thatquestion which pain had set there; and I wondered if his friend of old, who seemed so brave and amiable, would have dealt him that hurt at thesolemn end had he known what a poisoned wound it would be. 

We came out on a ridge from which we could look down. "You always wantto ride on high places when there's folks around whose intentions ain'tbeen declared, " said the Virginian. And we went along our ridge for somedistance. Then, suddenly he turned down and guided us almost at once tothe trail. "That's it, " he said. "See. "

The track of a horse was very fresh on the trail. But it was a gallopinghorse now, and no bootprints were keeping up with it any more. No bootscould have kept up with it. The rider was making time to-day. Yesterdaythat horse had been ridden up into the mountains at leisure. Who was onhim? There was never to be any certain answer to that. But who was noton him? We turned back in our journey, back into the heart of that basinwith the tall peaks all rising like teeth in the cloudless sun, and thesnow-fields shining white. 

"He was afraid of us, " said the Virginian. "He did not know how many ofus had come up here. Three hawsses might mean a dozen more around. "

We followed the backward trail in among the pines, and came after a timeupon their camp. And then I understood the mistake that Shorty had made. He had returned after his failure, and had told that other man of thepresence of new horses. He should have kept this a secret; for haste hadto be made at once, and two cannot get away quickly upon one horse. Butit was poor Shorty's last blunder. He lay there by their extinct fire, with his wistful, lost-dog face upward, and his thick yellow hairunparted as it had always been. The murder had been done from behind. Weclosed the eyes. 

"There was no natural harm in him, " said the Virginian. "But you must doa thing well in this country. "

There was not a trace, not a clew, of the other man; and we found aplace where we could soon cover Shorty with earth. As we lifted him wesaw the newspaper that he had been reading. He had brought it from theclump of cottonwoods where he and the other man had made a later visitthan ours to be sure of the fate of their friends--or possibly in hopesof another horse. Evidently, when the party were surprised, they hadbeen able to escape with only one. All of the newspaper was there savethe leaf I had picked up--all and more, for this had pencil writing onit that was not mine, nor did I at first take it in. I thought it mightbe a clew, and I read it aloud. "Good-by, Jeff, " it said. "I could nothave spoke to you without playing the baby. "

"Who's Jeff?" I asked. But it came over me when I looked at theVirginian. He was standing beside me quite motionless; and then he putout his hand and took the paper, and stood still, looking at the words. "Steve used to call me Jeff, " he said, "because I was Southern. I reckonnobody else ever did. "

He slowly folded the message from the dead, brought by the dead, androlled it in the coat behind his saddle. For a half-minute he stoodleaning his forehead down against the saddle. After this he came backand contemplated Shorty's face awhile. "I wish I could thank him, " hesaid. "I wish I could. "

We carried Shorty over and covered him with earth, and on that laid afew pine branches; then we took up our journey, and by the end of theforenoon we had gone some distance upon our trail through the TetonMountains. But in front of us the hoofprints ever held their strideof haste, drawing farther from us through the hours, until by the nextafternoon somewhere we noticed they were no longer to be seen; and afterthat they never came upon the trail again. 

XXXIII. THE SPINSTER LOSES SOME SLEEP

Somewhere at the eastern base of the Tetons did those hoofprintsdisappear into a mountain sanctuary where many crooked paths have led. He that took another man's possessions, or he that took another man'slife, could always run here if the law or popular justice were too hotat his heels. Steep ranges and forests walled him in from the world onall four sides, almost without a break; and every entrance lay throughintricate solitudes. Snake River came into the place through canyonsand mournful pines and marshes, to the north, and went out at the southbetween formidable chasms. Every tributary to this stream rose amonghigh peaks and ridges, and descended into the valley by well-nighimpenetrable courses: Pacific Creek from Two Ocean Pass, Buffalo Forkfrom no pass at all, Black Rock from the To-wo-ge-tee Pass--all these, and many more, were the waters of loneliness, among whose thousandhiding-places it was easy to be lost. Down in the bottom was a spread oflevel land, broad and beautiful, with the blue and silver Tetons risingfrom its chain of lakes to the west, and other heights presiding overits other sides. And up and down and in and out of this hollow square ofmountains, where waters plentifully flowed, and game and natural pastureabounded, there skulked a nomadic and distrustful population. This indue time built cabins, took wives, begot children, and came to speak ofitself as "The honest settlers of Jackson's Hole. " It is a commodioustitle, and doubtless to-day more accurate than it was once. 

Into this place the hoofprints disappeared. Not many cabins were yetbuilt there; but the unknown rider of the horse knew well that he wouldfind shelter and welcome among the felons of his stripe. Law and ordermight guess his name correctly, but there was no next step, for lack ofevidence; and he would wait, whoever he was, until the rage of popularjustice, which had been pursuing him and his brother thieves, shouldsubside. Then, feeling his way gradually with prudence, he would lethimself be seen again. 

And now, as mysteriously as he had melted away, rumor passed over thecountry. No tongue seemed to be heard telling the first news; the newswas there, one day, a matter of whispered knowledge. On Sunk Creek andon Bear Creek, and elsewhere far and wide, before men talked men seemedsecretly to know that Steve, and Ed, and Shorty, would never again beseen. Riders met each other in the road and drew rein to discuss theevent, and its bearing upon the cattle interests. In town saloons mentook each other aside, and muttered over it in corners. 

Thus it reached the ears of Molly Wood, beginning in a veiled andharmless shape. 

A neighbor joined her when she was out riding by herself. 

"Good morning, " said he. "Don't you find it lonesome?" And when sheanswered lightly, he continued, meaning well: "You'll be having companyagain soon now. He has finished his job. Wish he'd finished it MORE!Well, good day. "

Molly thought these words over. She could not tell why they gave hera strange feeling. To her Vermont mind no suspicion of the truth wouldcome naturally. But suspicion began to come when she returned from herride. For, entering the cabin of the Taylors', she came upon severalpeople who all dropped their talk short, and were not skilful atresuming it. She sat there awhile, uneasily aware that all of themknew something which she did not know, and was not intended to know. Athought pierced her--had anything happened to her lover? No; that wasnot it. The man she had met on horseback spoke of her having companysoon again. How soon? she wondered. He had been unable to say whenhe should return, and now she suddenly felt that a great silence hadenveloped him lately: not the mere silence of absence, of receivingno messages or letters, but another sort of silence which now, at thismoment, was weighing strangely upon her. 

And then the next day it came out at the schoolhouse. During thatinterval known as recess, she became aware through the open window thatthey were playing a new game outside. Lusty screeches of delight reachedher ears. 

"Jump!" a voice ordered. "Jump!"

"I don't want to, " returned another voice, uneasily. 

"You said you would, " said several. "Didn't he say he would? Ah, he saidhe would. Jump now, quick!"

"But I don't want to, " quavered the voice in a tone so dismal that Mollywent out to see. 

They had got Bob Carmody on the top of the gate by a tree, with a roperound his neck, the other end of which four little boys were joyouslyholding. The rest looked on eagerly, three little girls clasping theirhands, and springing up and down with excitement. 

"Why, children!" exclaimed Molly. 

"He's said his prayers and everything, " they all screamed out. "He's arustler, and we're lynchin' him. Jump, Bob!"

"I don't want--"

"Ah, coward, won't take his medicine!"

"Let him go, boys, " said Molly. "You might really hurt him. " And so shebroke up this game, but not without general protest from Wyoming's youngvoice. 

"He said he would, " Henry Dow assured her. 

And George Taylor further explained: "He said he'd be Steve. But Stevedidn't scare. " Then George proceeded to tell the schoolmarm, eagerly, all about Steve and Ed, while the schoolmarm looked at him with a rigidface. 

"You promised your mother you'd not tell, " said Henry Dow, after allhad been told. "You've gone and done it, " and Henry wagged his head n asuperior manner. 

Thus did the New England girl learn what her cow-boy lover had done. Shespoke of it to nobody; she kept her misery to herself. He was not thereto defend his act. Perhaps in a way that was better. But these werehours of darkness indeed to Molly Wood. 

On that visit to Dunbarton, when at the first sight of her lover'sphotograph in frontier dress her aunt had exclaimed, "I suppose thereare days when he does not kill people, " she had cried in all good faithand mirth, "He never killed anybody!" Later, when he was lying in hercabin weak from his bullet wound, but each day stronger beneath hernursing, at a certain word of his there had gone through her a shudderof doubt. Perhaps in his many wanderings he had done such a thing inself-defence, or in the cause of popular justice. But she had pushed theidea away from her hastily, back into the days before she had ever seenhim. If this had ever happened, let her not know of it. Then, as a cruelreward for his candor and his laying himself bare to her mother, theletters from Bennington had used that very letter of his as a weaponagainst him. Her sister Sarah had quoted from it. "He says with apparentpride, " wrote Sarah, "that he has never killed for pleasure or profit. 'Those are his exact words, and you may guess their dreadful effect uponmother. I congratulate you, my dear, on having chosen a protector soscrupulous. "

Thus her elder sister had seen fit to write; and letters from less nearrelatives made hints at the same subject. So she was compelled to acceptthis piece of knowledge thrust upon her. Yet still, still, those eventshad been before she knew him. They were remote, without detail orcontext. He had been little more than a boy. No doubt it was to save hisown life. And so she bore the hurt of her discovery all the more easilybecause her sister's tone roused her to defend her cow-boy. 

But now!

In her cabin, alone, after midnight, she arose from her sleepless bed, and lighting the candle, stood before his photograph. 

"It is a good face, " her great-aunt had said, after some study of it. And these words were in her mind now. There his likeness stood at fulllength, confronting her: the spurs on the boots, the fringed leathernchaparreros, the coiled rope in hand, the pistol at hip, the roughflannel shirt, and the scarf knotted at the throat--and then the graveeyes, looking at her. It thrilled her to meet them, even so. She couldread life into them. She seemed to feel passion come from them, and thensomething like reproach. She stood for a long while looking at him, andthen, beating her hands together suddenly, she blew out her light andwent back into bed, but not to sleep. 

"You're looking pale, deary, " said Mrs. Taylor to her, a few days later. 

"Am I?"

"And you don't eat anything. "

"Oh, yes, I do. " And Molly retired to her cabin. 

"George, " said Mrs. Taylor, "you come here. "

It may seem severe--I think that it was severe. That evening whenMr. Taylor came home to his family, George received a thrashing fordisobedience. 

"And I suppose, " said Mrs. Taylor to her husband, "that she came outjust in time to stop 'em breaking Bob Carmody's neck for him. "

Upon the day following Mrs. Taylor essayed the impossible. She tookherself over to Molly Wood's cabin. The girl gave her a listlessgreeting, and the dame sat slowly down, and surveyed the comfortableroom. 

"A very nice home, deary, " said she, "if it was a home. But you'll fixsomething like this in your real home, I have no doubt. "

Molly made no answer. 

"What we're going to do without you I can't see, " said Mrs. Taylor. "But I'd not have it different for worlds. He'll be coming back soon, Iexpect. "

"Mrs. Taylor, " said Molly, all at once, "please don't say anything now. I can't stand it. " And she broke into wretched tears. 

"Why, deary, he--"

"No; not a word. Please, please--I'll go out if you do. "

The older woman went to the younger one, and then put her arms roundher. But when the tears were over, they had not done any good; it wasnot the storm that clears the sky--all storms do not clear the sky. AndMrs. Taylor looked at the pale girl and saw that she could do nothing tohelp her toward peace of mind. 

"Of course, " she said to her husband, after returning from herprofitless errand, "you might know she'd feel dreadful. 

"What about?" said Taylor. 

"Why, you know just as well as I do. And I'll say for myself, I hopeyou'll never have to help hang folks. "

"Well, " said Taylor, mildly, "if I had to, I'd have to, I guess. "

"Well, I don't want it to come. But that poor girl is eating her heartright out over it. "

"What does she say?"

"It's what she don't say. She'll not talk, and she'll not let me talk, and she sits and sits. "

"I'll go talk some to her, " said the man. 

"Well, Taylor, I thought you had more sense. You'd not get a word in. She'll be sick soon if her worry ain't stopped someway, though. "

"What does she want this country to do?" inquired Taylor. "Does sheexpect it to be like Vermont when it--"

"We can't help what she expects, " his wife interrupted. "But I wish wecould help HER. "

They could not, however; and help came from another source. Judge Henryrode by the next day. To him good Mrs. Taylor at once confided heranxiety. The Judge looked grave. 

"Must I meddle?" he said. 

"Yes, Judge, you must, " said Mrs. Taylor. 

"But why can't I send him over here when he gets back? Then they'll justsettle it between themselves. "

Mrs. Taylor shook her head. "That would unsettle it worse than it is, "she assured him. "They mustn't meet just now. "

The Judge sighed. "Well, " he said, "very well. I'll sacrifice mycharacter, since you insist. "

Judge Henry sat thinking, waiting until school should be out. He did notat all relish what lay before him. He would like to have got out of it. He had been a federal judge; he had been an upright judge; he had metthe responsibilities of his difficult office not only with learning, which is desirable, but also with courage and common sense besides, andthese are essential. He had been a stanch servant of the law. And nowhe was invited to defend that which, at first sight, nay, even at secondand third sight, must always seem a defiance of the law more injuriousthan crime itself. Every good man in this world has convictions aboutright and wrong. They are his soul's riches, his spiritual gold. Whenhis conduct is at variance with these, he knows that it is a departure, a falling; and this is a simple and clear matter. If falling were allthat ever happened to a good man, all his days would be a simple matterof striving and repentance. But it is not all. There come to him certainjunctures, crises, when life, like a highwayman, springs upon him, demanding that he stand and deliver his convictions in the name of somerighteous cause, bidding him do evil that good may come. I cannot saythat I believe in doing evil that good may come. I do not. I think thatany man who honestly justifies such course deceives himself. But this Ican say: to call any act evil, instantly begs the question. Many an actthat man does is right or wrong according to the time and placewhich form, so to speak, its context; strip it of its surroundingcircumstances, and you tear away its meaning. Gentlemen reformers, beware of this common practice of yours! beware of calling an act evilon Tuesday because that same act was evil on Monday!

Do you fail to follow my meaning? Then here is an illustration. OnMonday I walk over my neighbor's field; there is no wrong in suchwalking. By Tuesday he has put up a sign that trespassers willbe prosecuted according to law. I walk again on Tuesday, and am alaw-breaker. Do you begin to see my point? or are you inclined to objectto the illustration because the walking on Tuesday was not WRONG, butmerely ILLEGAL? Then here is another illustration which you will findit a trifle more embarrassing to answer. Consider carefully, let me begyou, the case of a young man and a young woman who walk out of a dooron Tuesday, pronounced man and wife by a third party inside the door. It matters not that on Monday they were, in their own hearts, sacredlyvowed to each other. If they had omitted stepping inside that door, if they had dispensed with that third party, and gone away on Mondaysacredly vowed to each other in their own hearts, you wouldhave scarcely found their conduct moral. Consider these thingscarefully, --the sign-post and the third party, --and the difference theymake. And now, for a finish, we will return to the sign-post. 

Suppose that I went over my neighbor's field on Tuesday, after thesign-post was put up, because I saw a murder about to be committed inthe field, and therefore ran in and stopped it. Was I doing evil thatgood might come? Do you not think that to stay out and let the murder bedone would have been the evil act in this case? To disobey the sign-postwas RIGHT; and I trust that you now perceive the same act may wear asmany different hues of right or wrong as the rainbow, according to theatmosphere in which it is done. It is not safe to say of any man, "Hedid evil that good might come. " Was the thing that he did, in the firstplace, evil? That is the question. 

Forgive my asking you to use your mind. It is a thing which no novelistshould expect of his reader, and we will go back at once to Judge Henryand his meditations about lynching. 

He was well aware that if he was to touch at all upon this subject withthe New England girl, he could not put her off with mere platitudes andhumdrum formulas; not, at least, if he expected to do any good. She wasfar too intelligent, and he was really anxious to do good. For her sakehe wanted the course of the girl's true love to run more smoothly, andstill more did he desire this for the sake of his Virginian. 

"I sent him myself on that business, " the Judge reflected uncomfortably. "I am partly responsible for the lynching. It has brought him one greatunhappiness already through the death of Steve. If it gets runningin this girl's mind, she may--dear me!" the Judge broke off, "what anuisance!" And he sighed. For as all men know, he also knew that manythings should be done in this world in silence, and that talking aboutthem is a mistake. 

But when school was out, and the girl gone to her cabin, his mind hadset the subject in order thoroughly, and he knocked at her door, ready, as he had put it, to sacrifice his character in the cause of true love. 

"Well, " he said, coming straight to the point, "some dark things havehappened. " And when she made no answer to this, he continued: "But youmust not misunderstand us. We're too fond of you for that. "

"Judge Henry, " said Molly Wood, also coming straight to the point, "haveyou come to tell me that you think well of lynching?"

He met her. "Of burning Southern negroes in public, no. Of hangingWyoming cattle thieves in private, yes. You perceive there's adifference, don't you?"

"Not in principle, " said the girl, dry and short. 

"Oh--dear--me!" slowly exclaimed the Judge. "I am sorry that you cannotsee that, because I think that I can. And I think that you have justas much sense as I have. " The Judge made himself very grave and verygood-humored at the same time. The poor girl was strung to a high pitch, and spoke harshly in spite of herself. 

"What is the difference in principle?" she demanded. 

"Well, " said the Judge, easy and thoughtful, "what do you mean byprinciple?"

"I didn't think you'd quibble, " flashed Molly. "I'm not a lawyermyself. "

A man less wise than Judge Henry would have smiled at this, and then warwould have exploded hopelessly between them, and harm been added to whatwas going wrong already. But the Judge knew that he must give to everyword that the girl said now his perfect consideration. 

"I don't mean to quibble, " he assured her. "I know the trick of escapingfrom one question by asking another. But I don't want to escape fromanything you hold me to answer. If you can show me that I am wrong, Iwant you to do so. But, " and here the Judge smiled, "I want you to playfair, too. "

"And how am I not?"

"I want you to be just as willing to be put right by me as I am to beput right by you. And so when you use such a word as principle, youmust help me to answer by saying what principle you mean. For in allsincerity I see no likeness in principle whatever between burningSouthern negroes in public and hanging Wyoming horse-thieves in private. I consider the burning a proof that the South is semi-barbarous, and thehanging a proof that Wyoming is determined to become civilized. Wedo not torture our criminals when we lynch them. We do not invitespectators to enjoy their death agony. We put no such hideous disgraceupon the United States. We execute our criminals by the swiftest means, and in the quietest way. Do you think the principle is the same?"

Molly had listened to him with attention. "The way is different, " sheadmitted. 

"Only the way?"

"So it seems to me. Both defy law and order. "

"Ah, but do they both? Now we're getting near the principle. "

"Why, yes. Ordinary citizens take the law in their own hands. "

"The principle at last!" exclaimed the Judge. 

"Now tell me some more things. Out of whose hands do they take the law?"

"The court's. "

"What made the courts?"

"I don't understand. "

"How did there come to be any courts?"

"The Constitution. "

"How did there come to be any Constitution? Who made it?"

"The delegates, I suppose. "

"Who made the delegates?"

"I suppose they were elected, or appointed, or something. 

"And who elected them?"

"Of course the people elected them. "

"Call them the ordinary citizens, " said the Judge. "I like your term. They are where the law comes from, you see. For they chose the delegateswho made the Constitution that provided for the courts. There's yourmachinery. These are the hands into which ordinary citizens have put thelaw. So you see, at best, when they lynch they only take back what theyonce gave. Now we'll take your two cases that you say are the same inprinciple. I think that they are not. For in the South they take a negrofrom jail where he was waiting to be duly hung. The South has neverclaimed that the law would let him go. But in Wyoming the law has beenletting our cattle-thieves go for two years. We are in a very bad way, and we are trying to make that way a little better until civilizationcan reach us. At present we lie beyond its pale. The courts, or ratherthe juries, into whose hands we have put the law, are not dealing thelaw. They are withered hands, or rather they are imitation handsmade for show, with no life in them, no grip. They cannot hold acattle-thief. And so when your ordinary citizen sees this, and sees thathe has placed justice in a dead hand, he must take justice back into hisown hands where it was once at the beginning of all things. Call thisprimitive, if you will. But so far from being a DEFIANCE of the law, itis an ASSERTION of it--the fundamental assertion of self governing men, upon whom our whole social fabric is based. There is your principle, Miss Wood, as I see it. Now can you help me to see anything different?"

She could not. 

"But perhaps you are of the same opinion still?" the Judge inquired. 

"It is all terrible to me, " she said. 

"Yes; and so is capital punishment terrible. And so is war. And perhapssome day we shall do without them. But they are none of them so terribleas unchecked theft and murder would be. "

After the Judge had departed on his way to Sunk Creek, no one spoke toMolly upon this subject. But her face did not grow cheerful at once. Itwas plain from her fits of silence that her thoughts were not at rest. And sometimes at night she would stand in front of her lover's likeness, gazing upon it with both love and shrinking. 

XXXIV. TO FIT HER FINGER

It was two rings that the Virginian wrote for when next I heard fromhim. 

After my dark sight of what the Cattle Land could be, I soon hadjourneyed home by way of Washakie and Rawlins. Steve and Shorty did notleave my memory, nor will they ever, I suppose. 

The Virginian had touched the whole thing the day I left him. He hadnoticed me looking a sort of farewell at the plains and mountains. 

"You will come back to it, " he said. "If there was a headstone for everyman that once pleasured in his freedom here, yu'd see one most everytime yu' turned your head. It's a heap sadder than a graveyard--but yu'love it all the same. "

Sadness had passed from him--from his uppermost mood, at least, whenhe wrote about the rings. Deep in him was sadness of course, as well asjoy. For he had known Steve, and he had covered Shorty with earth. Hehad looked upon life with a marksman's eyes, very close; and no one, if he have a heart, can pass through this and not carry sadness in hisspirit with him forever. But he seldom shows it openly; it bides withinhim, enriching his cheerfulness and rendering him of better service tohis fellow-men. 

It was a commission of cheerfulness that he now gave, being distantfrom where rings are to be bought. He could not go so far as the Eastto procure what he had planned. Rings were to be had in Cheyenne, and astill greater choice in Denver; and so far as either of these towns hisaffairs would have permitted him to travel. But he was set upon havingrings from the East. They must come from the best place in the country;nothing short of that was good enough "to fit her finger, " as he said. The wedding ring was a simple matter. Let it be right, that was all:the purest gold that could be used, with her initials and his togethergraven round the inside, with the day of the month and the year. 

The date was now set. It had come so far as this. July third was to bethe day. Then for sixty days and nights he was to be a bridegroom, freefrom his duties at Sunk Creek, free to take his bride wheresoever shemight choose to go. And she had chosen. 

Those voices of the world had more than angered her; for after the angera set purpose was left. Her sister should have the chance neither tocome nor to stay away. Had her mother even answered the Virginian'sletter, there could have been some relenting. But the poor lady had beeninadequate in this, as in all other searching moments of her life: shehad sent messages, --kind ones, to be sure, --but only messages. If thishad hurt the Virginian, no one knew it in the world, least of all thegirl in whose heart it had left a cold, frozen spot. Not a good spiritin which to be married, you will say. No; frozen spots are not good atany time. But Molly's own nature gave her due punishment. Through allthese days of her warm happiness a chill current ran, like those whichinterrupt the swimmer's perfect joy. The girl was only half as happyas her lover; but she hid this deep from him, --hid it until that final, fierce hour of reckoning that her nature had with her, --nay, was boundto have with her, before the punishment was lifted, and the frozen spotmelted at length from her heart. 

So, meanwhile, she made her decree against Bennington. Not Vermont, but Wyoming, should be her wedding place. No world's voices should bewhispering, no world's eyes should be looking on, when she made her vowto him and received his vow. Those voices should be spoken and that ringput on in this wild Cattle Land, where first she had seen him ride intothe flooded river, and lift her ashore upon his horse. It was this opensky which should shine down on them, and this frontier soil upon whichtheir feet should tread. The world should take its turn second. 

After a month with him by stream and canyon, a month far deeper into themountain wilds than ever yet he had been free to take her, a month withsometimes a tent and sometimes the stars above them, and only theirhorses besides themselves--after such a month as this, she would takehim to her mother and to Bennington; and the old aunt over at Dunbartonwould look at him, and be once more able to declare that the Storks hadalways preferred a man who was a man. 

And so July third was to be engraved inside the wedding ring. Upon theother ring the Virginian had spent much delicious meditation, all in hissecret mind. He had even got the right measure of her finger without hersuspecting the reason. But this step was the final one in his plan. 

During the time that his thoughts had begun to be busy over the otherring, by a chance he had learned from Mrs. Henry a number of old fanciesregarding precious stones. Mrs. Henry often accompanied the Judge inventuresome mountain climbs, and sometimes the steepness of the rocksrequired her to use her hands for safety. One day when the Virginianwent with them to help mark out certain boundary corners, she removedher rings lest they should get scratched; and he, being just behind her, took them during the climb. 

"I see you're looking at my topaz, " she had said, as he returned them. "If I could have chosen, it would have been a ruby. But I was born inNovember. "

He did not understand her in the least, but her words awakened exceedinginterest in him; and they had descended some five miles of mountainbefore he spoke again. Then he became ingenious, for he had half workedout what Mrs. Henry's meaning must be; but he must make quite sure. Therefore, according to his wild, shy nature, he became ingenious. 

"Men wear rings, " he began. "Some of the men on the ranch do. I don'tsee any harm in a man's wearin' a ring. But I never have. "

"Well, " said the lady, not yet suspecting that he was undertaking tocircumvent her, "probably those men have sweethearts. "

"No, ma'am. Not sweethearts worth wearin' rings for--in two cases, anyway. They won 'em at cyards. And they like to see 'em shine. I neversaw a man wear a topaz. "

Mrs. Henry did not have any further remark to make. 

"I was born in January myself, " pursued the Virginian, verythoughtfully. 

Then the lady gave him one look, and without further process of mindperceived exactly what he was driving at. 

"That's very extravagant for rings, " said she. "January is diamonds. "

"Diamonds, " murmured the Virginian, more and more thoughtfully. "Well, it don't matter, for I'd not wear a ring. And November is--what did yu'say, ma'am?"

"Topaz. "

"Yes. Well, jewels are cert'nly pretty things. In the Spanish Missionsyu'll see large ones now and again. And they're not glass, I think. Andso they have got some jewel that kind of belongs to each month rightaround the twelve?"

"Yes, " said Mrs. Henry, smiling. "One for each month. But the opal iswhat you want. "

He looked at her, and began to blush. 

"October is the opal, " she added, and she laughed outright, for MissWood's birthday was on the fifteenth of that month. 

The Virginian smiled guiltily at her through his crimson. 

"I've no doubt you can beat around the bush very well with men, " saidMrs. Henry. "But it's perfectly transparent with us--in matters ofsentiment, at least. "

"Well, I am sorry, " he presently said. "I don't want to give her anopal. I have no superstition, but I don't want to give her an opal. Ifher mother did, or anybody like that, why, all right. But not from me. D' yu' understand, ma'am?"

Mrs. Henry did understand this subtle trait in the wild man, and sherejoiced to be able to give him immediate reassurance concerning opals. 

"Don't worry about that, " she said. "The opal is said to bring ill luck, but not when it is your own month stone. Then it is supposed to be notonly deprived of evil influence, but to possess peculiarly fortunatepower. Let it be an opal ring. "

Then he asked her boldly various questions, and she showed him herrings, and gave him advice about the setting. There was no specialcustom, she told him, ruling such rings as this he desired to bestow. The gem might be the lady's favorite or the lover's favorite; and tochoose the lady's month stone was very well indeed. 

Very well indeed, the Virginian thought. But not quite well enough forhim. His mind now busied itself with this lore concerning jewels, andsoon his sentiment had suggested something which he forthwith carriedout. 

When the ring was achieved, it was an opal, but set with four smallembracing diamonds. Thus was her month stone joined with his, that theirluck and their love might be inseparably clasped. 

He found the size of her finger one day when winter had departed, andthe early grass was green. He made a ring of twisted grass for her, while she held her hand for him to bind it. He made another for himself. Then, after each had worn their grass ring for a while, he begged herto exchange. He did not send his token away from him, but most carefullymeasured it. Thus the ring fitted her well, and the lustrous flamewithin the opal thrilled his heart each time he saw it. For now June wasnear its end; and that other plain gold ring, which, for safe keeping, he cherished suspended round his neck day and night, seemed to burn withan inward glow that was deeper than the opal's. 

So in due course arrived the second of July. Molly's punishment had gotas far as this: she longed for her mother to be near her at this time;but it was too late. 

XXXV. WITH MALICE AFORETHOUGHT

Town lay twelve straight miles before the lover and his sweetheart, whenthey came to the brow of the last long hill. All beneath them was likea map: neither man nor beast distinguishable, but the veined and tintedimage of a country, knobs and flats set out in order clearly, shiningextensive and motionless in the sun. It opened on the sight of thelovers as they reached the sudden edge of the tableland, where sincemorning they had ridden with the head of neither horse ever in advanceof the other. 

At the view of their journey's end, the Virginian looked down at hisgirl beside him, his eyes filled with a bridegroom's light, and, hangingsafe upon his breast, he could feel the gold ring that he would slowlypress upon her finger to-morrow. He drew off the glove from her lefthand, and stooping, kissed the jewel in that other ring which he hadgiven her. The crimson fire in the opal seemed to mingle with that inhis heart, and his arm lifted her during a moment from the saddle as heheld her to him. But in her heart the love of him was troubled by thatcold pang of loneliness which had crept upon her like a tide as the daydrew near. None of her own people were waiting in that distant town tosee her become his bride. Friendly faces she might pass on the way; butall of them new friends, made in this wild country: not a face of herchildhood would smile upon her; and deep within her, a voice cried forthe mother who was far away in Vermont. That she would see Mrs. Taylor'skind face at her wedding was no comfort now. 

There lay the town in the splendor of Wyoming space. Around it spreadthe watered fields, westward for a little way, eastward to a greatdistance, making squares of green and yellow crops; and the town was buta poor rag in the midst of this quilted harvest. After the fields to theeast, the tawny plain began; and with one faint furrow of river liningits undulations, it stretched beyond sight. But west of the town rosethe Bow Leg Mountains, cool with their still unmelted snows and theirdull blue gulfs of pine. From three canyons flowed three clear forkswhich began the river. Their confluence was above the town a good twomiles; it looked but a few paces from up here, while each side the riverstraggled the margin cottonwoods, like thin borders along a garden walk. Over all this map hung silence like a harmony, tremendous yet serene. 

"How beautiful! how I love it!" whispered the girl. "But, oh, how big itis!" And she leaned against her lover for an instant. It was her spiritseeking shelter. To-day, this vast beauty, this primal calm, had in itfor her something almost of dread. The small, comfortable, green hillsof home rose before her. She closed her eyes and saw Vermont: a villagestreet, and the post-office, and ivy covering an old front door, and hermother picking some yellow roses from a bush. 

At a sound, her eyes quickly opened; and here was her lover turned inhis saddle, watching another horseman approach. She saw the Virginian'shand in a certain position, and knew that his pistol was ready. But theother merely overtook and passed them, as they stood at the brow of thehill. 

The man had given one nod to the Virginian, and the Virginian one tohim; and now he was already below them on the descending road. To MollyWood he was a stranger; but she had seen his eyes when he nodded to herlover, and she knew, even without the pistol, that this was not enmityat first sight. It was not indeed. Five years of gathered hate hadlooked out of the man's eyes. And she asked her lover who this was. 

"Oh, " said he, easily, "just a man I see now and then. "

"Is his name Trampas?" said Molly Wood. 

The Virginian looked at her in surprise. "Why, where have you seen him?"he asked. 

"Never till now. But I knew. "

"My gracious! Yu' never told me yu' had mind-reading powers. " And hesmiled serenely at her. 

"I knew it was Trampas as soon as I saw his eyes. "

"My gracious!" her lover repeated with indulgent irony. "I must bemighty careful of my eyes when you're lookin' at 'em. "

"I believe he did that murder, " said the girl. 

"Whose mind are yu' readin' now?" he drawled affectionately. 

But he could not joke her off the subject. She took his strong hand inhers, tremulously, so much of it as her little hand could hold. "I knowsomething about that--that--last autumn, " she said, shrinking from wordsmore definite. "And I know that you only did--"

"What I had to, " he finished, very sadly, but sternly, too. 

"Yes, " she asserted, keeping hold of his hand. "I supposethat--lynching--" (she almost whispered the word) "is the only way. Butwhen they had to die just for stealing horses, it seems so wicked thatthis murderer--"

"Who can prove it?" asked the Virginian. 

"But don't you know it?"

"I know a heap o' things inside my heart. But that's not proving. Therewas only the body, and the hoofprints--and what folks guessed. "

"He was never even arrested!" the girl said. 

"No. He helped elect the sheriff in that county. "

Then Molly ventured a step inside the border of her lover's reticence. "I saw--" she hesitated, "just now, I saw what you did. "

He returned to his caressing irony. "You'll have me plumb scared if youkeep on seein' things. "

"You had your pistol ready for him. "

"Why, I believe I did. It was mighty unnecessary. " And the Virginiantook out the pistol again, and shook his head over it, like one who hasbeen caught in a blunder. 

She looked at him, and knew that she must step outside his reticenceagain. By love and her surrender to him their positions had beenexchanged. 

He was not now, as through his long courting he had been, herhalf-obeying, half-refractory worshipper. She was no longer hishalf-indulgent, half-scornful superior. Her better birth and schoolingthat had once been weapons to keep him at his distance, or bring her offvictorious in their encounters, had given way before the onset ofthe natural man himself. She knew her cow-boy lover, with all that helacked, to be more than ever she could be, with all that she had. He washer worshipper still, but her master, too. Therefore now, against thebaffling smile he gave her, she felt powerless. And once again a pang ofyearning for her mother to be near her to-day shot through the girl. Shelooked from her untamed man to the untamed desert of Wyoming, and thetown where she was to take him as her wedded husband. But for his sakeshe would not let him guess her loneliness. 

He sat on his horse Monte, considering the pistol. Then he showed her arattlesnake coiled by the roots of some sage-brush. "Can I hit it?" heinquired. 

"You don't often miss them, " said she, striving to be cheerful. 

"Well, I'm told getting married unstrings some men. " He aimed, and thesnake was shattered. "Maybe it's too early yet for the unstringing tobegin!" And with some deliberation he sent three more bullets into thesnake. "I reckon that's enough, " said he. 

"Was not the first one?"

"Oh, yes, for the snake. " And then, with one leg crooked cow-boy fashionacross in front of his saddle-horn, he cleaned his pistol, and replacedthe empty cartridges. 

Once more she ventured near the line of his reticence. "Has--has Trampasseen you much lately?"

"Why, no; not for a right smart while. But I reckon he has not missedme. "

The Virginian spoke this in his gentlest voice. But his rebuffedsweetheart turned her face away, and from her eyes she brushed a tear. 

He reined his horse Monte beside her, and upon her cheek she felt hiskiss. "You are not the only mind-reader, " said he, very tenderly. Andat this she clung to him, and laid her head upon his breast. "I had beenthinking, " he went on, "that the way our marriage is to be was the mostbeautiful way. "

"It is the most beautiful, " she murmured. 

He slowly spoke out his thought, as if she had not said this. "No folksto stare, no fuss, no jokes and ribbons and best bonnets, no publiceye nor talkin' of tongues when most yu' want to hear nothing and saynothing. "

She answered by holding him closer. 

"Just the bishop of Wyoming to join us, and not even him after we'reonce joined. I did think that would be ahead of all ways to get marriedI have seen. "

He paused again, and she made no rejoinder. 

"But we have left out your mother. "

She looked in his face with quick astonishment. It was as if his spirithad heard the cry of her spirit. 

"That is nowhere near right, " he said. "That is wrong. "

"She could never have come here, " said the girl. 

"We should have gone there. I don't know how I can ask her to forgiveme. "

"But it was not you!" cried Molly. 

"Yes. Because I did not object. I did not tell you we must go to her. I missed the point, thinking so much about my own feelings. For yousee--and I've never said this to you until now--your mother did hurt me. When you said you would have me after my years of waiting, and I wroteher that letter telling her all about myself, and how my family was notlike yours, and--and--all the rest I told her, why you see it hurt menever to get a word back from her except just messages through you. ForI had talked to her about my hopes and my failings. I had said morethan ever I've said to you, because she was your mother. I wanted her toforgive me, if she could, and feel that maybe I could take good care ofyou after all. For it was bad enough to have her daughter quit her hometo teach school out hyeh on Bear Creek. Bad enough without havin' me tocome along and make it worse. I have missed the point in thinking of myown feelings. "

"But it's not your doing!" repeated Molly. 

With his deep delicacy he had put the whole matter as a hardship to hermother alone. He had saved her any pain of confession or denial. "Yes, it is my doing, " he now said. "Shall we give it up?"

"Give what--?" She did not understand. 

"Why, the order we've got it fixed in. Plans are--well, they're nomore than plans. I hate the notion of changing, but I hate hurting yourmother more. Or, anyway, I OUGHT to hate it more. So we can shift, ifyu' say so. It's not too late. "

"Shift?" she faltered. 

"I mean, we can go to your home now. We can start by the stage to-night. Your mother can see us married. We can come back and finish in themountains instead of beginning in them. It'll be just merely shifting, yu' see. "

He could scarcely bring himself to say this at all; yet he said italmost as if he were urging it. It implied a renunciation that he couldhardly bear to think of. To put off his wedding day, the bliss uponwhose threshold he stood after his three years of faithful battlefor it, and that wedding journey he had arranged: for there were themountains in sight, the woods and canyons where he had planned to gowith her after the bishop had joined them; the solitudes where only thewild animals would be, besides themselves. His horses, his tent, hisrifle, his rod, all were waiting ready in the town for their startto-morrow. He had provided many dainty things to make her comfortable. Well, he could wait a little more, having waited three years. It wouldnot be what his heart most desired: there would be the "public eye andthe talking of tongues"--but he could wait. The hour would come when hecould be alone with his bride at last. And so he spoke as if he urgedit. 

"Never!" she cried. "Never, never!"

She pushed it from her. She would not brook such sacrifice on his part. Were they not going to her mother in four weeks? If her family hadwarmly accepted him--but they had not; and in any case, it had gone toofar, it was too late. She told her lover that she would not hear him, that if he said any more she would gallop into town separately from him. And for his sake she would hide deep from him this loneliness of hers, and the hurt that he had given her in refusing to share with her histrouble with Trampas, when others must know of it. 

Accordingly, they descended the hill slowly together, lingering to spinout these last miles long. Many rides had taught their horses to goside by side, and so they went now: the girl sweet and thoughtful in hersedate gray habit; and the man in his leathern chaps and cartridge beltand flannel shirt, looking gravely into the distance with the level gazeof the frontier. 

Having read his sweetheart's mind very plainly, the lover now broke hisdearest custom. It was his code never to speak ill of any man to anywoman. Men's quarrels were not for women's ears. In his scheme, goodwomen were to know only a fragment of men's lives. He had lived manyoutlaw years, and his wide knowledge of evil made innocence doublyprecious to him. But to-day he must depart from his code, having readher mind well. He would speak evil of one man to one woman, because hisreticence had hurt her--and was she not far from her mother, and verylonely, do what he could? She should know the story of his quarrel inlanguage as light and casual as he could veil it with. 

He made an oblique start. He did not say to her: "I'll tell you aboutthis. You saw me get ready for Trampas because I have been ready for himany time these five years. " He began far off from the point with thatrooted caution of his--that caution which is shared by the primal savageand the perfected diplomat. 

"There's cert'nly a right smart o' difference between men and women, " heobserved. 

"You're quite sure?" she retorted. 

"Ain't it fortunate?--that there's both, I mean. "

"I don't know about fortunate. Machinery could probably do all the heavywork for us without your help. "

"And who'd invent the machinery?"

She laughed. "We shouldn't need the huge, noisy things you do. Our worldwould be a gentle one. "

"Oh, my gracious!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, my gracious! Get along, Monte! A gentle world all full of ladies!"

"Do you call men gentle?" inquired Molly. 

"Now it's a funny thing about that. Have yu' ever noticed a joke aboutfathers-in-law? There's just as many fathers--as mothers-in-law; butwhich side are your jokes?"

Molly was not vanquished. "That's because the men write the comicpapers, " said she. 

"Hear that, Monte? The men write 'em. Well, if the ladies wrote a comicpaper, I expect that might be gentle. "

She gave up this battle in mirth; and he resumed:-- "But don't youreally reckon it's uncommon to meet a father-in-law flouncin' aroundthe house? As for gentle--Once I had to sleep in a room next a ladies'temperance meetin'. Oh, heavens! Well, I couldn't change my room, andthe hotel man, he apologized to me next mawnin'. Said it didn't surprisehim the husbands drank some. "

Here the Virginian broke down over his own fantastic inventions, andgave a joyous chuckle in company with his sweetheart. "Yes, there'sa big heap o' difference between men and women, " he said. "Take thatfello' and myself, now. "

"Trampas?" said Molly, quickly serious. She looked along the road ahead, and discerned the figure of Trampas still visible on its way to town. 

The Virginian did not wish her to be serious--more than could be helped. "Why, yes, " he replied, with a waving gesture at Trampas. "Take him andme. He don't think much o' me! How could he? And I expect he'll never. But yu' saw just now how it was between us. We were not a bit like atemperance meetin'. "

She could not help laughing at the twist he gave to his voice. And shefelt happiness warming her; for in the Virginian's tone about Trampaswas something now that no longer excluded her. Thus he began his gradualrecital, in a cadence always easy, and more and more musical with thenative accent of the South. With the light turn he gave it, its pureugliness melted into charm. 

"No, he don't think anything of me. Once a man in the John Day Valleydidn't think much, and by Canada de Oro I met another. It will always beso here and there, but Trampas beats 'em all. For the others have alwaysexpressed themselves--got shut of their poor opinion in the open air. "

"Yu' see, I had to explain myself to Trampas a right smart while ago, long before ever I laid my eyes on yu'. It was just nothing at all. Alittle matter of cyards in the days when I was apt to spend my money andmy holidays pretty headlong. My gracious, what nonsensical times I havehad! But I was apt to win at cyards, 'specially poker. And Trampas, hemet me one night, and I expect he must have thought I looked kind o'young. So he hated losin' his money to such a young-lookin' man, and hetook his way of sayin' as much. I had to explain myself to him plainly, so that he learned right away my age had got its growth. 

"Well, I expect he hated that worse, having to receive my explanationwith folks lookin' on at us publicly that-a-way, and him without furtherideas occurrin' to him at the moment. That's what started his pooropinion of me, not havin' ideas at the moment. And so the boys resumedtheir cyards. 

"I'd most forgot about it. But Trampas's mem'ry is one of his strongpoints. Next thing--oh, it's a good while later--he gets to losin' fleshbecause Judge Henry gave me charge of him and some other punchers takingcattle--"

"That's not next, " interrupted the girl. 

"Not? Why--"

"Don't you remember?" she said, timid, yet eager. "Don't you?"

"Blamed if I do!"

"The first time we met?"

"Yes; my mem'ry keeps that--like I keep this. " And he brought from hispocket her own handkerchief, the token he had picked up at a river'sbrink when he had carried her from an overturned stage. 

"We did not exactly meet, then, " she said. "It was at that dance. Ihadn't seen you yet; but Trampas was saying something horrid about me, and you said--you said, 'Rise on your legs, you pole cat, and tell themyou're a liar. ' When I heard that, I think--I think it finished me. " Andcrimson suffused Molly's countenance. 

"I'd forgot, " the Virginian murmured. Then sharply, "How did you hearit?"

"Mrs. Taylor--"

"Oh! Well, a man would never have told a woman that. "

Molly laughed triumphantly. "Then who told Mrs. Taylor?"

Being caught, he grinned at her. "I reckon husbands are a special kindof man, " was all that he found to say. "Well, since you do know aboutthat, it was the next move in the game. Trampas thought I had no callto stop him sayin' what he pleased about a woman who was nothin' tome--then. But all women ought to be somethin' to a man. So I had to giveTrampas another explanation in the presence of folks lookin' on, and itwas just like the cyards. No ideas occurred to him again. And down goeshis opinion of me some more!

"Well, I have not been able to raise it. There has been this and thatand the other, --yu' know most of the later doings yourself, --and to-dayis the first time I've happened to see the man since the doings lastautumn. Yu' seem to know about them, too. He knows I can't prove hewas with that gang of horse thieves. And I can't prove he killed poorShorty. But he knows I missed him awful close, and spoiled his thievingfor a while. So d' yu' wonder he don't think much of me? But if I hadlived to be twenty-nine years old like I am, and with all my chancesmade no enemy, I'd feel myself a failure. "

His story was finished. He had made her his confidant in matters he hadnever spoken of before, and she was happy to be thus much nearer to him. It diminished a certain fear that was mingled with her love of him. 

During the next several miles he was silent, and his silence was enoughfor her. Vermont sank away from her thoughts, and Wyoming held less ofloneliness. They descended altogether into the map which had stretchedbelow them, so that it was a map no longer, but earth with growingthings, and prairie-dogs sitting upon it, and now and then a bird flyingover it. And after a while she said to him, "What are you thinkingabout?"

"I have been doing sums. Figured in hours it sounds right short. Figuredin minutes it boils up into quite a mess. Twenty by sixty is twelvehundred. Put that into seconds, and yu' get seventy-two thousandseconds. Seventy-two thousand. Seventy-two thousand seconds yet beforewe get married. "

"Seconds! To think of its having come to seconds!"

"I am thinkin' about it. I'm choppin' sixty of 'em off every minute. "

With such chopping time wears away. More miles of the road lay behindthem, and in the virgin wilderness the scars of new-scraped waterditches began to appear, and the first wire fences. Next, they werepassing cabins and occasional fields, the outposts of habitation. Thefree road became wholly imprisoned, running between unbroken stretchesof barbed wire. Far off to the eastward a flowing column of dust markedthe approaching stage, bringing the bishop, probably, for whose visithere they had timed their wedding. The day still brimmed with heat andsunshine; but the great daily shadow was beginning to move from the feetof the Bow Leg Mountains outward toward the town. Presently they beganto meet citizens. Some of these knew them and nodded, while some didnot, and stared. Turning a corner into the town's chief street, wherestood the hotel, the bank, the drug store, the general store, andthe seven saloons, they were hailed heartily. Here were threefriends, --Honey Wiggin, Scipio Le Moyne, and Lin McLean, --all desirousof drinking the Virginian's health, if his lady--would she mind? Thethree stood grinning, with their hats off; but behind their gayety theVirginian read some other purpose. 

"We'll all be very good, " said Honey Wiggin. 

"Pretty good, " said Lin. 

"Good, " said Scipio. 

"Which is the honest man?" inquired Molly, glad to see them. 

"Not one!" said the Virginian. "My old friends scare me when I think oftheir ways. "

"It's bein' engaged scares yu', " retorted Mr. McLean. "Marriage restoresyour courage, I find. "

"Well, I'll trust all of you, " said Molly. "He's going to take me to thehotel, and then you can drink his health as much as you please. "

With a smile to them she turned to proceed, and he let his horse movewith hers; but he looked at his friends. Then Scipio's bleached blueeyes narrowed to a slit, and he said what they had all come out on thestreet to say:-- "Don't change your clothes. "

"Oh!" protested Molly, "isn't he rather dusty and countrified?"

But the Virginian had taken Scipio's meaning. "DON'T CHANGE YOURSCLOTHES. " Innocent Molly appreciated these words no more than theaverage reader who reads a masterpiece, complacently unaware thatits style differs from that of the morning paper. Such was Scipio'sintention, wishing to spare her from alarm. 

So at the hotel she let her lover go with a kiss, and without a thoughtof Trampas. She in her room unlocked the possessions which were therewaiting for her, and changed her dress. 

Wedding garments, and other civilized apparel proper for a genuinefrontiersman when he comes to town, were also in the hotel, ready forthe Virginian to wear. It is only the somewhat green and unseasonedcow-puncher who struts before the public in spurs and deadly weapons. For many a year the Virginian had put away these childish things. Hemade a sober toilet for the streets. Nothing but his face and bearingremained out of the common when he was in a town. But Scipio had toldhim not to change his clothes; therefore he went out with his pistol athis hip. Soon he had joined his three friends. 

"I'm obliged to yu', " he said. "He passed me this mawnin'. "

"We don't know his intentions, " said Wiggin. 

"Except that he's hangin' around, " said McLean. 

"And fillin' up, " said Scipio, "which reminds me--"

They strolled into the saloon of a friend, where, unfortunately, satsome foolish people. But one cannot always tell how much of a fool a manis, at sight. 

It was a temperate health-drinking that they made. "Here's how, " theymuttered softly to the Virginian; and "How, " he returned softly, lookingaway from them. But they had a brief meeting of eyes, standing andlounging near each other, shyly; and Scipio shook hands with thebridegroom. "Some day, " he stated, tapping himself; for in his vagrantheart he began to envy the man who could bring himself to marry. And henodded again, repeating, "Here's how. "

They stood at the bar, full of sentiment, empty of words, memoryand affection busy in their hearts. All of them had seen rough daystogether, and they felt guilty with emotion. 

"It's hot weather, " said Wiggin. 

"Hotter on Box Elder, " said McLean. "My kid has started teething. "

Words ran dry again. They shifted their positions, looked in theirglasses, read the labels on the bottles. They dropped a word now andthen to the proprietor about his trade, and his ornaments. 

"Good head, " commented McLean. 

"Big old ram, " assented the proprietor. "Shot him myself on Gray Bulllast fall. "

"Sheep was thick in the Tetons last fall, " said the Virginian. 

On the bar stood a machine into which the idle customer might drop hisnickel. The coin then bounced among an arrangement of pegs, descendingat length into one or another of various holes. You might win as much asten times your stake, but this was not the most usual result; and withnickels the three friends and the bridegroom now mildly sported for awhile, buying them with silver when their store ran out. 

"Was it sheep you went after in the Tetons?" inquired the proprietor, knowing it was horse thieves. 

"Yes, " said the Virginian. "I'll have ten more nickels. "

"Did you get all the sheep you wanted?" the proprietor continued. 

"Poor luck, " said the Virginian. 

"Think there's a friend of yours in town this afternoon, " said theproprietor. 

"Did he mention he was my friend?"

The proprietor laughed. The Virginian watched another nickel click downamong the pegs. 

Honey Wiggin now made the bridegroom a straight offer. "We'll take thisthing off your hands, " said he. 

"Any or all of us, " said Lin. 

But Scipio held his peace. His loyalty went every inch as far as theirs, but his understanding of his friend went deeper. "Don't change yourclothes, " was the first and the last help he would be likely to give inthis matter. The rest must be as such matters must always be, betweenman and man. To the other two friends, however, this seemed a veryspecial case, falling outside established precedent. Therefore theyventured offers of interference. 

"A man don't get married every day, " apologized McLean. "We'll just runhim out of town for yu'. "

"Save yu' the trouble, " urged Wiggin. "Say the word. "

The proprietor now added his voice. "It'll sober him up to spend hisnight out in the brush. He'll quit his talk then. "

But the Virginian did not say the word, or any word. He stood playingwith the nickels. 

"Think of her, " muttered McLean. 

"Who else would I be thinking of?" returned the Southerner. His face hadbecome very sombre. "She has been raised so different!" he murmured. Hepondered a little, while the others waited, solicitous. 

A new idea came to the proprietor. "I am acting mayor of this town, "said he. "I'll put him in the calaboose and keep him till you getmarried and away. "

"Say the word, " repeated Honey Wiggin. 

Scipio's eye met the proprietor's, and he shook his head about a quarterof an inch. The proprietor shook his to the same amount. They understoodeach other. It had come to that point where there was no way out, saveonly the ancient, eternal way between man and man. It is only the greatmediocrity that goes to law in these personal matters. 

"So he has talked about me some?" said the Virginian. 

"It's the whiskey, " Scipio explained. 

"I expect, " said McLean, "he'd run a mile if he was in a state toappreciate his insinuations. "

"Which we are careful not to mention to yu', " said Wiggin, "unless yu'inquire for 'em. "

Some of the fools present had drawn closer to hear this interestingconversation. In gatherings of more than six there will generally be atleast one fool; and this company must have numbered twenty men. 

"This country knows well enough, " said one fool, who hungered to beimportant, "that you don't brand no calves that ain't your own. "

The saturnine Virginian looked at him. "Thank yu', " said he, gravely, "for your indorsement of my character. " The fool felt flattered. TheVirginian turned to his friends. His hand slowly pushed his hat back, and he rubbed his black head in thought. 

"Glad to see yu've got your gun with you, " continued the happy fool. "You know what Trampas claims about that affair of yours in the Tetons?He claims that if everything was known about the killing of Shorty--"

"Take one on the house, " suggested the proprietor to him, amiably. "Yournews will be fresher. " And he pushed him the bottle. The fool felt lessimportant. 

"This talk had went the rounds before it got to us, " said Scipio, "orwe'd have headed it off. He has got friends in town. "

Perplexity knotted the Virginian's brows. This community knew that a manhad implied he was a thief and a murderer; it also knew that he knewit. But the case was one of peculiar circumstances, assuredly. Could heavoid meeting the man? Soon the stage would be starting south for therailroad. He had already to-day proposed to his sweetheart that theyshould take it. Could he for her sake leave unanswered a talking enemyupon the field? His own ears had not heard the enemy. 

Into these reflections the fool stepped once more. "Of course thiscountry don't believe Trampas, " said he. "This country--"

But he contributed no further thoughts. From somewhere in the rear ofthe building, where it opened upon the tin cans and the hinder purlieusof the town, came a movement, and Trampas was among them, courageouswith whiskey. 

All the fools now made themselves conspicuous. One lay on the floor, knocked there by the Virginian, whose arm he had attempted to hold. Others struggled with Trampas, and his bullet smashed the ceilingbefore they could drag the pistol from him. "There now! there now!" theyinterposed; "you don't want to talk like that, " for he was pouring out atide of hate and vilification. Yet the Virginian stood quiet by the bar, and many an eye of astonishment was turned upon him. "I'd not stand halfthat language, " some muttered to each other. Still the Virginian waitedquietly, while the fools reasoned with Trampas. But no earthly foot canstep between a man and his destiny. Trampas broke suddenly free. 

"Your friends have saved your life, " he rang out, with obscene epithets. "I'll give you till sundown to leave town. "

There was total silence instantly. 

"Trampas, " spoke the Virginian, "I don't want trouble with you. "

"He never has wanted it, " Trampas sneered to the bystanders. "He hasbeen dodging it five years. But I've got him coralled. "

Some of the Trampas faction smiled. 

"Trampas, " said the Virginian again, "are yu' sure yu' really meanthat?"

The whiskey bottle flew through the air, hurled by Trampas, and crashedthrough the saloon window behind the Virginian. 

"That was surplusage, Trampas, " said he, "if yu' mean the other. "

"Get out by sundown, that's all, " said Trampas. And wheeling, he wentout of the saloon by the rear, as he had entered. 

"Gentlemen, " said the Virginian, "I know you will all oblige me. "

"Sure!" exclaimed the proprietor, heartily, "We'll see that everybodylets this thing alone. "

The Virginian gave a general nod to the company, and walked out into thestreet. 

"It's a turruble shame, " sighed Scipio, "that he couldn't have postponedit. "

The Virginian walked in the open air with thoughts disturbed. "I am oftwo minds about one thing, " he said to himself uneasily. 

Gossip ran in advance of him; but as he came by, the talk fell awayuntil he had passed. Then they looked after him, and their words againrose audibly. Thus everywhere a little eddy of silence accompanied hissteps. 

"It don't trouble him much, " one said, having read nothing in theVirginian's face. 

"It may trouble his girl some, " said another. 

"She'll not know, " said a third, "until it's over. "

"He'll not tell her?"

"I wouldn't. It's no woman's business. "

"Maybe that's so. Well, it would have suited me to have Trampas diesooner. "

"How would it suit you to have him live longer?" inquired a member ofthe opposite faction, suspected of being himself a cattle thief. 

"I could answer your question, if I had other folks' calves I wanted tobrand. " This raised both a laugh and a silence. 

Thus the town talked, filling in the time before sunset. 

The Virginian, still walking aloof in the open air, paused at the edgeof the town. "I'd sooner have a sickness than be undecided this way, "he said, and he looked up and down. Then a grim smile came at his ownexpense. "I reckon it would make me sick--but there's not time. "

Over there in the hotel sat his sweetheart alone, away from her mother, her friends, her home, waiting his return, knowing nothing. He lookedinto the west. Between the sun and the bright ridges of the mountainswas still a space of sky; but the shadow from the mountains' feet haddrawn halfway toward the town. "About forty minutes more, " he saidaloud. "She has been raised so different. " And he sighed as heturned back. As he went slowly, he did not know how great was his ownunhappiness. "She has been raised so different, " he said again. 

Opposite the post-office the bishop of Wyoming met him and greeted him. His lonely heart throbbed at the warm, firm grasp of this friend's hand. The bishop saw his eyes glow suddenly, as if tears were close. But nonecame, and no word more open than, "I'm glad to see you. "

But gossip had reached the bishop, and he was sorely troubled also. "What is all this?" said he, coming straight to it. 

The Virginian looked at the clergyman frankly. "Yu' know just as muchabout it as I do, " he said. "And I'll tell yu' anything yu' ask. "

"Have you told Miss Wood?" inquired the bishop. 

The eyes of the bridegroom fell, and the bishop's face grew at once morekeen and more troubled. Then the bridegroom raised his eyes again, andthe bishop almost loved him. He touched his arm, like a brother. "Thisis hard luck, " he said. 

The bridegroom could scarce keep his voice steady. "I want to do rightto-day more than any day I have ever lived, " said he. 

"Then go and tell her at once. "

"It will just do nothing but scare her. "

"Go and tell her at once. "

"I expected you was going to tell me to run away from Trampas. I can'tdo that, yu' know. "

The bishop did know. Never before in all his wilderness work had hefaced such a thing. He knew that Trampas was an evil in the country, and that the Virginian was a good. He knew that the cattle thieves--therustlers--were gaining, in numbers and audacity; that they led manyweak young fellows to ruin; that they elected their men to office, andcontrolled juries; that they were a staring menace to Wyoming. His heartwas with the Virginian. But there was his Gospel, that he preached, andbelieved, and tried to live. He stood looking at the ground and drawinga finger along his eyebrow. He wished that he might have heard nothingabout all this. But he was not one to blink his responsibility as aChristian server of the church militant. 

"Am I right, " he now slowly asked, "in believing that you think I am asincere man?"

"I don't believe anything about it. I know it. "

"I should run away from Trampas, " said the bishop. 

"That ain't quite fair, seh. We all understand you have got to do thethings you tell other folks to do. And you do them, seh. You never talklike anything but a man, and you never set yourself above others. Youcan saddle your own horses. And I saw yu' walk unarmed into thatWhite River excitement when those two other parsons was a-foggin' anda-fannin' for their own safety. Damn scoundrels!"

The bishop instantly rebuked such language about brothers of his cloth, even though he disapproved both of them and their doctrines. "Every onemay be an instrument of Providence, " he concluded. 

"Well, " said the Virginian, "if that is so, then Providence makes use ofinstruments I'd not touch with a ten-foot pole. Now if you was me, seh, and not a bishop, would you run away from Trampas?"

"That's not quite fair, either!" exclaimed the bishop, with a smile. "Because you are asking me to take another man's convictions, and yetremain myself. "

"Yes, seh. I am. That's so. That don't get at it. I reckon you and Ican't get at it. "

"If the Bible, " said the bishop, "which I believe to be God's word, wasanything to you--"

"It is something to me, seh. I have found fine truths in it. "

"'Thou shalt not kill, '" quoted the bishop. "That is plain. "

The Virginian took his turn at smiling. "Mighty plain to me, seh. Makeit plain to Trampas, and there'll be no killin'. We can't get at it thatway. "

Once more the bishop quoted earnestly. "'Vengeance is mine, I willrepay, saith the Lord. '"

"How about instruments of Providence, seh? Why, we can't get at it thatway. If you start usin' the Bible that way, it will mix you up mightyquick, seh. "

"My friend, " the bishop urged, and all his good, warm heart was in it, "my dear fellow--go away for the one night. He'll change his mind. "

The Virginian shook his head. "He cannot change his word, seh. Or atleast I must stay around till he does. Why, I have given him the say-so. He's got the choice. Most men would not have took what I took from himin the saloon. Why don't you ask him to leave town?"

The good bishop was at a standstill. Of all kicking against the pricksnone is so hard as this kick of a professing Christian against the wholeinstinct of human man. 

"But you have helped me some, " said the Virginian. "I will go and tellher. At least, if I think it will be good for her, I will tell her. "

The bishop thought that he saw one last chance to move him. 

"You're twenty-nine, " he began. 

"And a little over, " said the Virginian. 

"And you were fourteen when you ran away from your family. "

"Well, I was weary, yu' know, of havin' elder brothers lay down my lawnight and mawnin'. "

"Yes, I know. So that your life has been your own for fifteen years. Butit is not your own now. You have given it to a woman. "

"Yes; I have given it to her. But my life's not the whole of me. I'dgive her twice my life--fifty--a thousand of 'em. But I can't giveher--her nor anybody in heaven or earth--I can't give my--my--we'llnever get at it, seh! There's no good in words. Good-by. " The Virginianwrung the bishop's hand and left him. 

"God bless him!" said the bishop. "God bless him!"

The Virginian unlocked the room in the hotel where he kept stored histent, his blankets, his pack-saddles, and his many accoutrements for thebridal journey in the mountains. Out of the window he saw the mountainsblue in shadow, but some cottonwoods distant in the flat between werestill bright green in the sun. From among his possessions he tookquickly a pistol, wiping and loading it. Then from its holster heremoved the pistol which he had tried and made sure of in the morning. This, according to his wont when going into a risk, he shoved betweenhis trousers and his shirt in front. The untried weapon he placed inthe holster, letting it hang visibly at his hip. He glanced out ofthe window again, and saw the mountains of the same deep blue. But thecottonwoods were no longer in the sunlight. The shadow had come pastthem, nearer the town; for fifteen of the forty minutes were gone. "Thebishop is wrong, " he said. "There is no sense in telling her. " And heturned to the door, just as she came to it herself. 

"Oh!" she cried out at once, and rushed to him. 

He swore as he held her close. "The fools!" he said. "The fools!"

"It has been so frightful waiting for you, " said she, leaning her headagainst him. 

"Who had to tell you this?" he demanded. 

"I don't know. Somebody just came and said it. "

"This is mean luck, " he murmured, patting her. "This is mean luck. "

She went on: "I wanted to run out and find you; but I didn't! I didn't!I stayed quiet in my room till they said you had come back. "

"It is mean luck. Mighty mean, " he repeated. 

"How could you be so long?" she asked. "Never mind, I've got you now. Itis over. "

Anger and sorrow filled him. "I might have known some fool would tellyou, " he said. 

"It's all over. Never mind. " Her arms tightened their hold of him. Thenshe let him go. "What shall we do?" she said. "What now?"

"Now?" he answered. "Nothing now. "

She looked at him without understanding. 

"I know it is a heap worse for you, " he pursued, speaking slowly. "Iknew it would be. "

"But it is over!" she exclaimed again. 

He did not understand her now. He kissed her. "Did you think it wasover?" he said simply. "There is some waiting still before us. I wishyou did not have to wait alone. But it will not be long. " He was lookingdown, and did not see the happiness grow chilled upon her face, and thenfade into bewildered fear. "I did my best, " he went on. "I think I did. I know I tried. I let him say to me before them all what no man hasever said, or ever will again. I kept thinking hard of you--with allmy might, or I reckon I'd have killed him right there. And I gave him ashow to change his mind. I gave it to him twice. I spoke as quiet asI am speaking to you now. But he stood to it. And I expect he knows hewent too far in the hearing of others to go back on his threat. He willhave to go on to the finish now. "

"The finish?" she echoed, almost voiceless. 

"Yes, " he answered very gently. 

Her dilated eves were fixed upon him. "But--" she could scarce formutterance, "but you?"

"I have got myself ready, " he said. "Did you think--why, what did youthink?"

She recoiled a step. "What are you going--" She put her two hands to herhead. "Oh, God!" she almost shrieked, "you are going--" He made a step, and would have put his arm round her, but she backed against the wall, staring speechless at him. 

"I am not going to let him shoot me, " he said quietly. 

"You mean--you mean--but you can come away!" she cried. "It's not toolate yet. You can take yourself out of his reach. Everybody knows thatyou are brave. What is he to you? You can leave him in this place. I'llgo with you anywhere. To any house, to the mountains, to anywhere away. We'll leave this horrible place together and--and--oh, won't you listento me?" She stretched her hands to him. "Won't you listen?"

He took her hands. "I must stay here. "

Her hands clung to his. "No, no, no. There's something else. There'ssomething better than shedding blood in cold blood. Only think what itmeans! Only think of having to remember such a thing! Why, it's whatthey hang people for! It's murder!"

He dropped her hands. "Don't call it that name, " he said sternly. 

"When there was the choice!" she exclaimed, half to herself, like aperson stunned and speaking to the air. "To get ready for it when youhave the choice!"

"He did the choosing, " answered the Virginian. "Listen to me. Are youlistening?" he asked, for her gaze was dull. 

She nodded. 

"I work hyeh. I belong hyeh. It's my life. If folks came to think I wasa coward--"

"Who would think you were a coward?"

"Everybody. My friends would be sorry and ashamed, and my enemies wouldwalk around saying they had always said so. I could not hold up my headagain among enemies or friends. "

"When it was explained--"

"There'd be nothing to explain. There'd just be the fact. " He was nearlyangry. 

"There is a higher courage than fear of outside opinion, " said the NewEngland girl. 

Her Southern lover looked at her. "Cert'nly there is. That's what I'mshowing in going against yours. "

"But if you know that you are brave, and if I know that you are brave, oh, my dear, my dear! what difference does the world make? How muchhigher courage to go your own course--"

"I am goin' my own course, " he broke in. "Can't yu' see how it must beabout a man? It's not for their benefit, friends or enemies, that I havegot this thing to do. If any man happened to say I was a thief and Iheard about it, would I let him go on spreadin' such a thing of me?Don't I owe my own honesty something better than that? Would I sit downin a corner rubbin' my honesty and whisperin' to it, 'There! there! Iknow you ain't a thief?' No, seh; not a little bit! What men say aboutmy nature is not just merely an outside thing. For the fact that Ilet 'em keep on sayin' it is a proof I don't value my nature enough toshield it from their slander and give them their punishment. And that'sbeing a poor sort of a jay. "

She had grown very white. 

"Can't yu' see how it must be about a man?" he repeated. 

"I cannot, " she answered, in a voice that scarcely seemed her own. "If Iought to, I cannot. To shed blood in cold blood. When I heard about thatlast fall, --about the killing of those cattle thieves, --I kept saying tomyself: 'He had to do it. It was a public duty. ' And lying sleepless Igot used to Wyoming being different from Vermont. But this--" she gavea shudder--"when I think of to-morrow, of you and me, and of--If you dothis, there can be no to-morrow for you and me. "

At these words he also turned white. 

"Do you mean--" he asked, and could go no farther. 

Nor could she answer him, but turned her head away. 

"This would be the end?" he asked. 

Her head faintly moved to signify yes. 

He stood still, his hand shaking a little. "Will you look at me andsay that?" he murmured at length. She did not move. "Can you do it?" hesaid. 

His sweetness made her turn, but could not pierce her frozen resolve. She gazed at him across the great distance of her despair. 

"Then it is really so?" he said. 

Her lips tried to form words, but failed. 

He looked out of the window, and saw nothing but shadow. The blue of themountains was now become a deep purple. Suddenly his hand closed hard. 

"Good-by, then, " he said. 

At that word she was at his feet, clutching him. "For my sake, " shebegged him. "For my sake. "

A tremble passed through his frame. She felt his legs shake as she heldthem, and, looking up, she saw that his eyes were closed with misery. Then he opened them, and in their steady look she read her answer. Heunclasped her hands from holding him, and raised her to her feet. 

"I have no right to kiss you any more, " he said. And then, before hisdesire could break him down from this, he was gone, and she was alone. 

She did not fall, or totter, but stood motionless. And next--it seemeda moment and it seemed eternity--she heard in the distance a shot, andthen two shots. Out of the window she saw people beginning to run. Atthat she turned and fled to her room, and flung herself face downwardupon the floor. 

Trampas had departed into solitude from the saloon, leaving behind himhis ULTIMATUM. His loud and public threat was town knowledge already, would very likely be county knowledge to-night. Riders would take itwith them to entertain distant cabins up the river and down the river;and by dark the stage would go south with the news of it--and the newsof its outcome. For everything would be over by dark. After five years, here was the end coming--coming before dark. Trampas had got up thismorning with no such thought. It seemed very strange to look back uponthe morning; it lay so distant, so irrevocable. And he thought of how hehad eaten his breakfast. How would he eat his supper? For supper wouldcome afterward. Some people were eating theirs now, with nothing likethis before them. His heart ached and grew cold to think of them, easyand comfortable with plates and cups of coffee. 

He looked at the mountains, and saw the sun above their ridges, andthe shadow coming from their feet. And there close behind him was themorning he could never go back to. He could see it clearly; his thoughtsreached out like arms to touch it once more, and be in it again. Thenight that was coming he could not see, and his eyes and his thoughtsshrank from it. He had given his enemy until sundown. He could nottrace the path which had led him to this. He remembered their firstmeeting--five years back, in Medicine Bow, and the words which at oncebegan his hate. No, it was before any words; it was the encounter oftheir eyes. For out of the eyes of every stranger looks either a friendor an enemy, waiting to be known. But how had five years of hate come toplay him such a trick, suddenly, to-day? Since last autumn he had meantsometime to get even with this man who seemed to stand at every turnof his crookedness, and rob him of his spoils. But how had he come tochoose such a way of getting even as this, face to face? He knew manybetter ways; and now his own rash proclamation had trapped him. Hiswords were like doors shutting him in to perform his threat to theletter, with witnesses at hand to see that he did so. 

Trampas looked at the sun and the shadow again. He had till sundown. Theheart inside him was turning it round in this opposite way: it was toHIMSELF that in his rage he had given this lessening margin of grace. But he dared not leave town in all the world's sight after all the worldhad heard him. Even his friends would fall from him after such an act. Could he--the thought actually came to him--could he strike before thetime set? But the thought was useless. Even if his friends could harborhim after such a deed, his enemies would find him, and his life would beforfeit to a certainty. His own trap was closing upon him. 

He came upon the main street, and saw some distance off the Virginianstanding in talk with the bishop. He slunk between two houses, andcursed both of them. The sight had been good for him, bringing somewarmth of rage back to his desperate heart. And he went into a place anddrank some whiskey. 

"In your shoes, " said the barkeeper, "I'd be afraid to take so much. "

But the nerves of Trampas were almost beyond the reach of intoxication, and he swallowed some more, and went out again. Presently he fell inwith some of his brothers in cattle stealing, and walked along with themfor a little. 

"Well, it will not be long now, " they said to him. And he had neverheard words so desolate. 

"No, " he made out to say; "soon now. " Their cheerfulness seemedunearthly to him, and his heart almost broke beneath it. 

"We'll have one to your success, " they suggested. 

So with them he repaired to another place; and the sight of a manleaning against the bar made him start so that they noticed him. Then hesaw that the man was a stranger whom he had never laid eyes on till now. 

"It looked like Shorty, " he said, and could have bitten his tongue off. 

"Shorty is quiet up in the Tetons, " said a friend. "You don't want to bethinking about him. Here's how!"

Then they clapped him on the back and he left them. He thought of hisenemy and his hate, beating his rage like a failing horse, and treadingthe courage of his drink. Across a space he saw Wiggin, walking withMcLean and Scipio. They were watching the town to see that his friendsmade no foul play. 

"We're giving you a clear field, " said Wiggin. 

"This race will not be pulled, " said McLean. 

"Be with you at the finish, " said Scipio. 

And they passed on. They did not seem like real people to him. 

Trampas looked at the walls and windows of the houses. Were they real?Was he here, walking in this street? Something had changed. He lookedeverywhere, and feeling it everywhere, wondered what this could be. Thenhe knew: it was the sun that had gone entirely behind the mountains, andhe drew out his pistol. 

The Virginian, for precaution, did not walk out of the front door of thehotel. He went through back ways, and paused once. Against his breasthe felt the wedding ring where he had it suspended by a chain from hisneck. His hand went up to it, and he drew it out and looked at it. Hetook it off the chain, and his arm went back to hurl it from him as faras he could. But he stopped and kissed it with one sob, and thrust it inhis pocket. Then he walked out into the open, watching. He saw men hereand there, and they let him pass as before, without speaking. He sawhis three friends, and they said no word to him. But they turned andfollowed in his rear at a little distance, because it was known thatShorty had been found shot from behind. The Virginian gained a positionsoon where no one could come at him except from in front; and the sightof the mountains was almost more than he could endure, because it wasthere that he had been going to-morrow. 

"It is quite a while after sunset, " he heard himself say. 

A wind seemed to blow his sleeve off his arm, and he replied to it, andsaw Trampas pitch forward. He saw Trampas raise his arm from the groundand fall again, and lie there this time, still. A little smoke wasrising from the pistol on the ground, and he looked at his own, and sawthe smoke flowing upward out of it. 

"I expect that's all, " he said aloud. 

But as he came nearer Trampas, he covered him with his weapon. Hestopped a moment, seeing the hand on the ground move. Two fingerstwitched, and then ceased; for it was all. The Virginian stood lookingdown at Trampas. 

"Both of mine hit, " he said, once more aloud. "His must have gone mightyclose to my arm. I told her it would not be me. "

He had scarcely noticed that he was being surrounded and congratulated. His hand was being shaken, and he saw it was Scipio in tears. Scipio'sjoy made his heart like lead within him. He was near telling his friendeverything, but he did not. 

"If anybody wants me about this, " he said, "I will be at the hotel. "

"Who'll want you?" said Scipio. "Three of us saw his gun out. " And hevented his admiration. "You were that cool! That quick!"

"I'll see you boys again, " said the Virginian, heavily; and he walkedaway. 

Scipio looked after him, astonished. "Yu' might suppose he was in poorluck, " he said to McLean. 

The Virginian walked to the hotel, and stood on the threshold of hissweetheart's room. She had heard his step, and was upon her feet. Herlips were parted, and her eyes fixed on him, nor did she move, or speak. 

"Yu' have to know it, " said he. "I have killed Trampas. "

"Oh, thank God!" she said; and he found her in his arms. Long theyembraced without speaking, and what they whispered then with theirkisses, matters not. 

Thus did her New England conscience battle to the end, and, in the end, capitulate to love. And the next day, with the bishop's blessing, andMrs. Taylor's broadest smile, and the ring on her finger, the Virginiandeparted with his bride into the mountains. 

XXXVI. AT DUNBARTON

For their first bridal camp he chose an island. Long weeks beforehand hehad thought of this place, and set his heart upon it. Once establishedin his mind, the thought became a picture that he saw waking andsleeping. He had stopped at the island many times alone, and in allseasons; but at this special moment of the year he liked it best. Oftenhe had added several needless miles to his journey that he might finishthe day at this point, might catch the trout for his supper beside acertain rock upon its edge, and fall asleep hearing the stream on eitherside of him. 

Always for him the first signs that he had gained the true world of themountains began at the island. The first pine trees stood upon it; thefirst white columbine grew in their shade; and it seemed to him that healways met here the first of the true mountain air--the coolness and thenew fragrance. Below, there were only the cottonwoods, and the knollsand steep foot-hills with their sage-brush, and the great warm air ofthe plains; here at this altitude came the definite change. Out of thelower country and its air he would urge his horse upward, talking to himaloud, and promising fine pasture in a little while. 

Then, when at length he had ridden abreast of the island pines, he wouldford to the sheltered circle of his camp-ground, throw off the saddleand blanket from the horse's hot, wet back, throw his own clothes off, and, shouting, spring upon the horse bare, and with a rope for bridle, cross with him to the promised pasture. Here there was a pause in themountain steepness, a level space of open, green with thick grass. Riding his horse to this, he would leap off him, and with the flat ofhis hand give him a blow that cracked sharp in the stillness and sentthe horse galloping and gambolling to his night's freedom. And whilethe animal rolled in the grass, often his master would roll also, andstretch, and take the grass in his two hands, and so draw his bodyalong, limbering his muscles after a long ride. Then he would slideinto the stream below his fishing place, where it was deep enough forswimming, and cross back to his island, and dressing again, fit his rodtogether and begin his casting. After the darkness had set in, therewould follow the lying drowsily with his head upon his saddle, thecamp-fire sinking as he watched it, and sleep approaching to the murmurof the water on either side of him. 

So many visits to this island had he made, and counted so many hours ofrevery spent in its haunting sweetness, that the spot had come to seemhis own. It belonged to no man, for it was deep in the unsurveyed andvirgin wilderness; neither had he ever made his camp here with anyman, nor shared with any the intimate delight which the place gave him. Therefore for many weeks he had planned to bring her here after theirwedding, upon the day itself, and show her and share with her his pinesand his fishing rock. He would bid her smell the first true breath ofthe mountains, would watch with her the sinking camp-fire, and with herlisten to the water as it flowed round the island. 

Until this wedding plan, it had by no means come home to him how deep ahold upon him the island had taken. He knew that he liked to go there, and go alone; but so little was it his way to scan himself, his mind, orhis feelings (unless some action called for it), that he first learnedhis love of the place through his love of her. But he told her nothingof it. After the thought of taking her there came to him, he kept hisisland as something to let break upon her own eyes, lest by lookingforward she should look for more than the reality. 

Hence, as they rode along, when the houses of the town were shrunk todots behind them, and they were nearing the gates of the foot-hills, sheasked him questions. She hoped they would find a camp a long way fromthe town. She could ride as many miles as necessary. She was not tired. Should they not go on until they found a good place far enough withinthe solitude? Had he fixed upon any? And at the nod and the silencethat he gave her for reply, she knew that he had thoughts and intentionswhich she must wait to learn. 

They passed through the gates of the foot-hills, following the stream upamong them. The outstretching fences and the widely trodden dust wereno more. Now and then they rose again into view of the fields and housesdown in the plain below. But as the sum of the miles and hours grew, they were glad to see the road less worn with travel, and the traces ofmen passing from sight. The ploughed and planted country, that quilt ofmany-colored harvests which they had watched yesterday, lay in anotherworld from this where they rode now. No hand but nature's had sown thesecrops of yellow flowers, these willow thickets and tall cottonwoods. Somewhere in a passage of red rocks the last sign of wagon wheels waslost, and after this the trail became a wild mountain trail. But it wasstill the warm air of the plains, bearing the sage-brush odor and notthe pine, that they breathed; nor did any forest yet cloak the shapesof the tawny hills among which they were ascending. Twice the steepnessloosened the pack ropes, and he jumped down to tighten them, lest thehorses should get sore backs. And twice the stream that they followedwent into deep canyons, so that for a while they parted from it. Whenthey came back to its margin for the second time, he bade her notice howits water had become at last wholly clear. To her it had seemed clearenough all along, even in the plain above the town. But now she saw thatit flowed lustrously with flashes; and she knew the soil had changed tomountain soil. Lower down, the water had carried the slightest cloudof alkali, and this had dulled the keen edge of its transparence. Fullsolitude was around them now, so that their words grew scarce, and whenthey spoke it was with low voices. They began to pass nooks and pointsfavorable for camping, with wood and water at hand, and pasture for thehorses. More than once as they reached such places, she thought he mustsurely stop; but still he rode on in advance of her (for the trailwas narrow) until, when she was not thinking of it, he drew rein andpointed. 

"What?" she asked timidly. 

"The pines, " he answered. 

She looked, and saw the island, and the water folding it with ripplesand with smooth spaces The sun was throwing upon the pine boughs a lightof deepening red gold, and the shadow of the fishing rock lay over alittle bay of quiet water and sandy shore. In this forerunning glow ofthe sunset, the pasture spread like emerald; for the dry touch of summerhad not yet come near it. He pointed upward to the high mountains whichthey had approached, and showed her where the stream led into theirfirst unfoldings. 

"To-morrow we shall be among them, " said he. 

"Then, " she murmured to him, "to-night is here?"

He nodded for answer, and she gazed at the island and understood why hehad not stopped before; nothing they had passed had been so lovely asthis place. 

There was room in the trail for them to go side by side; and side byside they rode to the ford and crossed, driving the packhorses in frontof them, until they came to the sheltered circle, and he helped her downwhere the soft pine needles lay. They felt each other tremble, and for amoment she stood hiding her head upon his breast. Then she looked roundat the trees, and the shores, and the flowing stream, and he heard herwhispering how beautiful it was. 

"I am glad, " he said, still holding her. "This is how I have dreamed itwould happen. Only it is better than my dreams. " And when she pressedhim in silence, he finished, "I have meant we should see our firstsundown here, and our first sunrise. "

She wished to help him take the packs from their horses, to make thecamp together with him, to have for her share the building of the fire, and the cooking. She bade him remember his promise to her that he wouldteach her how to loop and draw the pack-ropes, and the swing-ropeson the pack-saddles, and how to pitch a tent. Why might not the firstlesson be now? But he told her that this should be fulfilled later. Thisnight he was to do all himself. And he sent her away until he shouldhave camp ready for them. He bade her explore the island, or take herhorse and ride over to the pasture, where she could see the surroundinghills and the circle of seclusion that they made. 

"The whole world is far from here, " he said. And so she obeyed him, andwent away to wander about in their hiding-place; nor was she to return, he told her, until he called her. 

Then at once, as soon as she was gone, he fell to. The packs and saddlescame off the horses, which he turned loose upon the pasture on the mainland. The tent was unfolded first. He had long seen in his mind where itshould go, and how its white shape would look beneath the green ofthe encircling pines. The ground was level in the spot he had chosen, without stones or roots, and matted with the fallen needles of thepines. If there should come any wind, or storm of rain, the brancheswere thick overhead, and around them on three sides tall rocks andundergrowth made a barrier. He cut the pegs for the tent, and the frontpole, stretching and tightening the rope, one end of it pegged down andone round a pine tree. When the tightening rope had lifted the canvas tothe proper height from the ground, he spread and pegged down the sidesand back, leaving the opening so that they could look out upon the fireand a piece of the stream beyond. He cut tufts of young pine and strewedthem thickly for a soft floor in the tent, and over them spread thebuffalo hide and the blankets. At the head he placed the neat sack ofher belongings. For his own he made a shelter with crossed poles anda sheet of canvas beyond the first pines. He built the fire where itssmoke would float outward from the trees and the tent, and near it hestood the cooking things and his provisions, and made this first supperready in the twilight. He had brought much with him; but for ten minuteshe fished, catching trout enough. When at length she came riding overthe stream at his call, there was nothing for her to do but sit and eatat the table he had laid. They sat together, watching the last of thetwilight and the gentle oncoming of the dusk. The final after-glow ofday left the sky, and through the purple which followed it came slowlythe first stars, bright and wide apart. They watched the spaces betweenthem fill with more stars, while near them the flames and embers oftheir fire grew brighter. Then he sent her to the tent while he cleanedthe dishes and visited the horses to see that they did not stray fromthe pasture. Some while after the darkness was fully come, he rejoinedher. All had been as he had seen it in his thoughts beforehand: thepines with the setting sun upon them, the sinking camp-fire, and now thesound of the water as it flowed murmuring by the shores of the island. 

The tent opened to the east, and from it they watched together theirfirst sunrise. In his thoughts he had seen this morning beforehand also:the waking, the gentle sound of the water murmuring ceaselessly, thegrowing day, the vision of the stream, the sense that the world was shutaway far from them. So did it all happen, except that he whispered toher again:-- "Better than my dreams. "

They saw the sunlight begin upon a hilltop; and presently came the sunitself, and lakes of warmth flowed into the air, slowly filling thegreen solitude. Along the island shores the ripples caught flashes fromthe sun. 

"I am going into the stream, " he said to her; and rising, he left her inthe tent. This was his side of the island, he had told her last night;the other was hers, where he had made a place for her to bathe. Whenhe was gone, she found it, walking through the trees and rocks to thewater's edge. And so, with the island between them, the two bathed inthe cold stream. When he came back, he found her already busy at theircamp. The blue smoke of the fire was floating out from the trees, loitering undispersed in the quiet air, and she was getting theirbreakfast. She had been able to forestall him because he had delayedlong at his dressing, not willing to return to her unshaven. She lookedat his eyes that were clear as the water he had leaped into, and at hissoft silk neckerchief, knotted with care. 

"Do not let us ever go away from here!" she cried, and ran to him as hecame. They sat long together at breakfast, breathing the morning breathof the earth that was fragrant with woodland moisture and with thepines. After the meal he could not prevent her helping him makeeverything clean. Then, by all customs of mountain journeys, it was timethey should break camp and be moving before the heat of the day. Butfirst, they delayed for no reason, save that in these hours they soloved to do nothing. And next, when with some energy he got upon hisfeet and declared he must go and drive the horses in, she asked, Why?Would it not be well for him to fish here, that they might be sure oftrout at their nooning? And though he knew that where they should stopfor noon, trout would be as sure as here, he took this chance for moredelay. 

She went with him to his fishing rock, and sat watching him. The rockwas tall, higher than his head when he stood. It jutted out halfwayacross the stream, and the water flowed round it in quick foam, and fellinto a pool. He caught several fish; but the sun was getting high, andafter a time it was plain the fish had ceased to rise. 

Yet still he stood casting in silence, while she sat by and watched him. Across the stream, the horses wandered or lay down in their pasture. Atlength he said with half a sigh that perhaps they ought to go. 

"Ought?" she repeated softly. 

"If we are to get anywhere to-day, " he answered. 

"Need we get anywhere?" she asked. 

Her question sent delight through him like a flood. "Then you do notwant to move camp to-day?" said he. 

She shook her head. 

At this he laid down his rod and came and sat by her. "I am very glad weshall not go till to-morrow, " he murmured. 

"Not to-morrow, " she said. "Nor next day. Nor any day until we must. "And she stretched her hands out to the island and the stream exclaiming, "Nothing can surpass this!"

He took her in his arms. "You feel about it the way I do, " he almostwhispered. "I could not have hoped there'd be two of us to care somuch. "

Presently, while they remained without speaking by the pool, came alittle wild animal swimming round the rock from above. It had not seenthem, nor suspected their presence. They held themselves still, watchingits alert head cross through the waves quickly and come down throughthe pool, and so swim to the other side. There it came out on a smallstretch of sand, turned its gray head and its pointed black nose thisway and that, never seeing them, and then rolled upon its back in thewarm dry sand. After a minute of rolling, it got on its feet again, shook its fur, and trotted away. 

Then the bridegroom husband opened his shy heart deep down. 

"I am like that fellow, " he said dreamily. "I have often done the same. "And stretching slowly his arms and legs, he lay full length upon hisback, letting his head rest upon her. "If I could talk his animallanguage, I could talk to him, " he pursued. "And he would say to me:'Come and roll on the sands. Where's the use of fretting? What's thegain in being a man? Come roll on the sands with me. ' That's what hewould say. " The Virginian paused. "But, " he continued, "the trouble is, I am responsible. If that could only be forgot forever by you and me!"Again he paused and went on, always dreamily. "Often when I have campedhere, it has made me want to become the ground, become the water, becomethe trees, mix with the whole thing. Not know myself from it. Neverunmix again. Why is that?" he demanded, looking at her. "What is it? Youdon't know, nor I don't. I wonder would everybody feel that way here?"

"I think not everybody, " she answered. 

"No; none except the ones who understand things they can't put words to. But you did!" He put up a hand and touched her softly. "You understoodabout this place. And that's what makes it--makes you and me as we arenow--better than my dreams. And my dreams were pretty good. "

He sighed with supreme quiet and happiness, and seemed to stretch hislength closer to the earth. And so he lay, and talked to her as he hadnever talked to any one, not even to himself. Thus she learned secretsof his heart new to her: his visits here, what they were to him, and whyhe had chosen it for their bridal camp. "What I did not know at all, "he said, "was the way a man can be pining for--for this--and never guesswhat is the matter with him. "

When he had finished talking, still he lay extended and serene; and shelooked down at him and the wonderful change that had come over him, like a sunrise. Was this dreamy boy the man of two days ago? It seemeda distance immeasurable; yet it was two days only since that weddingeve when she had shrunk from him as he stood fierce and implacable. Shecould look back at that dark hour now, although she could not speak ofit. She had seen destruction like sharp steel glittering in his eyes. Were these the same eyes? Was this youth with his black head of hair inher lap the creature with whom men did not trifle, whose hand knew howto deal death? Where had the man melted away to in this boy? For as shelooked at him, he might have been no older than nineteen to-day. Noteven at their first meeting--that night when his freakish spirit wasuppermost--had he looked so young. This change their hours upon theisland had wrought, filling his face with innocence. 

By and by they made their nooning. In the afternoon she would haveexplored the nearer woods with him, or walked up the stream. But sincethis was to be their camp during several days, he made it more complete. He fashioned a rough bench and a table; around their tent he built atall wind-break for better shelter in case of storm; and for the fire hegathered and cut much wood, and piled it up. So they were provided for, and so for six days and nights they stayed, finding no day or night longenough. 

Once his hedge of boughs did them good service, for they had anafternoon of furious storm. The wind rocked the pines and ransacked theisland, the sun went out, the black clouds rattled, and white bolts oflightning fell close by. The shower broke through the pine branches andpoured upon the tent. But he had removed everything inside from where itcould touch the canvas and so lead the water through, and the rain ranoff into the ditch he had dug round the tent. While they sat within, looking out upon the bounding floods and the white lightning, she sawhim glance at her apprehensively, and at once she answered his glance. 

"I am not afraid, " she said. "If a flame should consume us together now, what would it matter?"

And so they sat watching the storm till it was over, he with his facechanged by her to a boy's, and she leavened with him. 

When at last they were compelled to leave the island, or see no more ofthe mountains, it was not a final parting. They would come back for thelast night before their journey ended. Furthermore, they promised eachother like two children to come here every year upon their wedding day, and like two children they believed that this would be possible. Butin after years they did come, more than once, to keep their wedding dayupon the island, and upon each new visit were able to say to each other, "Better than our dreams. "

For thirty days by the light of the sun and the camp-fire light theysaw no faces except their own; and when they were silent it was allstillness, unless the wind passed among the pines, or some flowing waterwas near them. Sometimes at evening they came upon elk, or black-taileddeer, feeding out in the high parks of the mountains; and once from theedge of some concealing timber he showed her a bear, sitting with anold log lifted in its paws. She forbade him to kill the bear, or anycreature that they did not require. He took her upward by trail andcanyon, through the unfooted woods and along dwindling streams to theirheadwaters, lakes lying near the summit of the range, full of trout, with meadows of long grass and a thousand flowers, and above these thepinnacles of rock and snow. 

They made their camps in many places, delaying several days here, andone night there, exploring the high solitudes together, and sinking deepin their romance. Sometimes when he was at work with their horses, orintent on casting his brown hackle for a fish, she would watch him witheyes that were fuller of love than of understanding. Perhaps she nevercame wholly to understand him; but in her complete love for him shefound enough. He loved her with his whole man's power. She had listenedto him tell her in words of transport, "I could enjoy dying"; yet sheloved him more than that. He had come to her from a smoking pistol, ableto bid her farewell--and she could not let him go. At the last white-hotedge of ordeal, it was she who renounced, and he who had his way. Nevertheless she found much more than enough, in spite of the sigh thatnow and again breathed through her happiness when she would watch himwith eyes fuller of love than of understanding. 

They could not speak of that grim wedding eve for a long while after;but the mountains brought them together upon all else in the world andtheir own lives. At the end they loved each other doubly more than atthe beginning, because of these added confidences which they exchangedand shared. It was a new bliss to her to know a man's talk and thoughts, to be given so much of him; and to him it was a bliss still greater tomelt from that reserve his lonely life had bred in him. He never wouldhave guessed so much had been stored away in him, unexpressed till now. They did not want to go to Vermont and leave these mountains, but theday came when they had to turn their backs upon their dream. Sothey came out into the plains once more, well established in theirfamiliarity, with only the journey still lying between themselves andBennington. 

"If you could, " she said, laughing. "If only you could ride home likethis. "

"With Monte and my six-shooter?" he asked. "To your mother?"

"I don't think mother could resist the way you look on a horse. "

But he said "It this way she's fearing I will come. "

"I have made one discovery, " she said. "You are fonder of good clothesthan I am. "

He grinned. "I cert'nly like 'em. But don't tell my friends. They wouldsay it was marriage. When you see what I have got for Bennington'sspecial benefit, you--why, you'll just trust your husband more thanever. "

She undoubtedly did. After he had put on one particular suit, she aroseand kissed him where he stood in it. 

"Bennington will be sorrowful, " he said. "No wild-west show, after all. And no ready-made guy, either. " And he looked at himself in the glasswith unbidden pleasure. 

"How did you choose that?" she asked. "How did you know that homespunwas exactly the thing for you?"

"Why, I have been noticing. I used to despise an Eastern man because hisclothes were not Western. I was very young then, or maybe not so veryyoung, as very--as what you saw I was when you first came to Bear Creek. A Western man is a good thing. And he generally knows that. But he hasa heap to learn. And he generally don't know that. So I took to watchingthe Judge's Eastern visitors. There was that Mr. Ogden especially, fromNew Yawk--the gentleman that was there the time when I had to sit up allnight with the missionary, yu' know. His clothes pleased me best of all. Fit him so well, and nothing flash. I got my ideas, and when I knew Iwas going to marry you, I sent my measure East--and I and the tailor areold enemies now. "

Bennington probably was disappointed. To see get out of the train merelya tall man with a usual straw hat, and Scotch homespun suit of arather better cut than most in Bennington--this was dull. And hisconversation--when he indulged in any--seemed fit to come inside thehouse. 

Mrs. Flynt took her revenge by sowing broadcast her thankfulness thatpoor Sam Bannett had been Molly's rejected suitor. He had done so muchbetter for himself. Sam had married a rich Miss Van Scootzer, of thesecond families of Troy; and with their combined riches this happycouple still inhabit the most expensive residence in Hoosic Falls. 

But most of Bennington soon began to say that Molly s cow-boy could beinvited anywhere and hold his own. The time came when they ceased tospeak of him as a cow-boy, and declared that she had shown remarkablesense. But this was not quite yet. 

Did this bride and groom enjoy their visit to her family? Well--well, they did their best. Everybody did their best, even Sarah Bell. She saidthat she found nothing to object to in the Virginian; she told Molly so. Her husband Sam did better than that. He told Molly he considered thatshe was in luck. And poor Mrs. Wood, sitting on the sofa, conversedscrupulously and timidly with her novel son-in-law, and said to Mollythat she was astonished to find him so gentle. And he was undoubtedlyfine-looking; yes, very handsome. She believed that she would grow tolike the Southern accent. Oh, yes! Everybody did their best; and, dearreader, if ever it has been your earthly portion to live with a numberof people who were all doing their best, you do not need me to tell youwhat a heavenly atmosphere this creates. 

And then the bride and groom went to see the old great-aunt over atDunbarton. 

Their first arrival, the one at Bennington, had been thus: Sam Bellhad met them at the train, and Mrs. Wood, waiting in her parlor, hadembraced her daughter and received her son-in-law. Among them they hadmanaged to make the occasion as completely mournful as any family partycan be, with the window blinds up. "And with you present, my dear, " saidSam Bell to Sarah, "the absence of a coffin was not felt. "

But at Dunbarton the affair went off differently. The heart of theancient lady had taught her better things. From Bennington to Dunbartonis the good part of a day's journey, and they drove up to the gate inthe afternoon. The great-aunt was in her garden, picking some Augustflowers, and she called as the carriage stopped, "Bring my nephew here, my dear, before you go into the house. "

At this, Molly, stepping out of the carriage, squeezed her husband'shand. "I knew that she would be lovely, " she whispered to him. And thenshe ran to her aunt's arms, and let him follow. He came slowly, hat inhand. 

The old lady advanced to meet him, trembling a little, and holding outher hand to him. "Welcome, nephew, " she said. "What a tall fellow youare, to be sure. Stand off, sir, and let me look at you. "

The Virginian obeyed, blushing from his black hair to his collar. 

Then his new relative turned to her niece, and gave her a flower. "Putthis in his coat, my dear, " she said. "And I think I understand why youwanted to marry him. "

After this the maid came and showed them to their rooms. Left alone inher garden, the great-aunt sank on a bench and sat there for some time;for emotion had made her very weak. 

Upstairs, Molly, sitting on the Virginian's knee, put the flower in hiscoat, and then laid her head upon his shoulder. 

"I didn't know old ladies could be that way, " he said. "D' yu' reckonthere are many?"

"Oh, I don't know, " said the girl. "I'm so happy!"

Now at tea, and during the evening, the great-aunt carried out her plansstill further. At first she did the chief part of the talking herself. Nor did she ask questions about Wyoming too soon. She reached that inher own way, and found out the one thing that she desired to know. Itwas through General Stark that she led up to it. 

"There he is, " she said, showing the family portrait. "And a rough timehe must have had of it now and then. New Hampshire was full of fineyoung men in those days. But nowadays most of them have gone away toseek their fortunes in the West. Do they find them, I wonder?"

"Yes, ma'am. All the good ones do. "

"But you cannot all be--what is the name?--Cattle Kings. "

"That's having its day, ma'am, right now. And we are getting ready forthe change--some of us are. "

"And what may be the change, and when is it to come?"

"When the natural pasture is eaten off, " he explained. "I have seen thatcoming a long while. And if the thieves are going to make us driveour stock away, we'll drive it. If they don't, we'll have big pasturesfenced, and hay and shelter ready for winter. What we'll spend inimprovements, we'll more than save in wages. I am well fixed for thenew conditions. And then, when I took up my land, I chose a place wherethere is coal. It will not be long before the new railroad needs that. "

Thus the old lady learned more of her niece's husband in one eveningthan the Bennington family had ascertained during his whole sojourn withthem. For by touching upon Wyoming and its future, she roused him totalk. He found her mind alive to Western questions: irrigation, theIndians, the forests; and so he expanded, revealing to her his wideobservation and his shrewd intelligence. He forgot entirely to be shy. She sent Molly to bed, and kept him talking for an hour. Then she showedhim old things that she was proud of, "because, " she said, "we, too, hadsomething to do with making our country. And now go to Molly, or you'llboth think me a tiresome old lady. "

"I think--" he began, but was not quite equal to expressing what hethought, and suddenly his shyness flooded him again. 

"In that case, nephew, " said she, "I'm afraid you'll have to kiss megood night. "

And so she dismissed him to his wife, and to happiness greater thaneither of them had known since they had left the mountains and come tothe East. "He'll do, " she said to herself, nodding. 

Their visit to Dunbarton was all happiness and reparation for thedoleful days at Bennington The old lady gave much comfort and adviceto her niece in private, and when they came to leave, she stood at thefront door holding both their hands a moment. 

"God bless you, my dears, " she told them. "And when you come next time, I'll have the nursery ready. "

And so it happened that before she left this world, the great-aunt wasable to hold in her arms the first of their many children. 

Judge Henry at Sunk Creek had his wedding present ready. His growingaffairs in Wyoming needed his presence in many places distant from hisranch, and he made the Virginian his partner. When the thieves prevailedat length, as they did, forcing cattle owners to leave the country or beruined, the Virginian had forestalled this crash. The herds were drivenaway to Montana. Then, in 1889, came the cattle war, when, after puttingtheir men in office, and coming to own some of the newspapers, thethieves brought ruin on themselves as well. For in a broken countrythere is nothing left to steal. 

But the railroad came, and built a branch to that land of theVirginian's where the coal was. By that time he was an important man, with a strong grip on many various enterprises, and able to give hiswife all and more than she asked or desired. 

Sometimes she missed the Bear Creek days, when she and he had riddentogether, and sometimes she declared that his work would kill him. But it does not seem to have done so. Their eldest boy rides the horseMonte; and, strictly between ourselves, I think his father is going tolive a long while.