Lin McLean

by Owen Wister

  THE WINNING OF THE BISCUIT-SHOOTER

  It was quite clear to me that Mr. McLean could not know the news.Meeting him to-day had been unforeseen--unforeseen and so pleasant thatthe thing had never come into my head until just now, after both of ushad talked and dined our fill, and were torpid with satisfaction.

  I had found Lin here at Riverside in the morning. At my horse'sapproach to the cabin, it was he and not the postmaster who had comeprecipitately out of the door.

  "I'm turruble pleased to see yu'," he had said, immediately.

  "What's happened?" said I, in some concern at his appearance.

  And he piteously explained: "Why, I've been here all alone sinceyesterday!"

  This was indeed all; and my hasty impressions of shooting and a corpsegave way to mirth over the child and his innocent grievance that he hadblurted out before I could get off my horse.

  Since when, I inquired of him, had his own company become such a shockto him?

  "As to that," replied Mr. McLean, a thought ruffled, "when a man expectslonesomeness he stands it like he stands anything else, of course.But when he has figured on finding company--say--" he broke off (andvindictiveness sparkled in his eye)--"when you're lucky enough tocatch yourself alone, why, I suppose yu' just take a chair and chat toyourself for hours.--You've not seen anything of Tommy?" he pursued withinterest.

  I had not; and forthwith Lin poured out to me the pent-up complaints andsociability with which he was bursting. The foreman had sent him overhere with a sackful of letters for the post, and to bring back theweek's mail for the ranch. A day was gone now, and nothing for a manto do but sit and sit. Tommy was overdue fifteen hours. Well, you couldhave endured that, but the neighbors had all locked their cabins andgone to Buffalo. It was circus week in Buffalo. Had I ever consideredthe money there must be in the circus business? Tommy had taken theoutgoing letters early yesterday. Nobody had kept him waiting. By allrules he should have been back again last night. Maybe the stage waslate reaching Powder River, and Tommy had had to lay over for it.Well, that would justify him. Far more likely he had gone to the circushimself and taken the mail with him. Tommy was no type of man forpostmaster. Except drawing the allowance his mother in the East gavehim first of every month, he had never shown punctuality that Lin couldremember. Never had any second thoughts, and awful few first ones. Toldbigger lies than a small man ought, also.

  "Has successes, though," said I, wickedly.

  "Huh!" went on Mr. McLean. "Successes! One ice-cream-soda success. Andshe"--Lin's still wounded male pride made him plaintive--"why, even thatgirl quit him, once she got the chance to appreciate how insignificanthe was as compared with the size of his words. No, sir. Not one of 'emretains interest in Tommy."

  Lin was unsaddling and looking after my horse, just because he wasglad to see me. Since our first acquaintance, that memorable summer ofPitchstone Canyon when he had taken such good care of me and such badcare of himself, I had learned pretty well about horses and camp craftin general. He was an entire boy then. But he had been East since, Eastby a route of his own discovering--and from his account of that journeyit had proved, I think, a sort of spiritual experience. And then theyears of our friendship were beginning to roll up. Manhood of thebody he had always richly possessed; and now, whenever we met after aseason's absence and spoke those invariable words which all old friendsupon this earth use to each other at meeting--"You haven't changed, youhaven't changed at all!"--I would wonder if manhood had arrived in Lin'sboy soul. And so to-day, while he attended to my horse and explained thenature of Tommy (a subject he dearly loved just now), I looked at himand took an intimate, superior pride in feeling how much more mature Iwas than he, after all.

  There's nothing like a sense of merit for making one feel aggrieved,and on our return to the cabin Mr. McLean pointed with disgust to somefirewood.

  "Look at those sorrowful toothpicks," said he: "Tommy's work."

  So Lin, the excellent hearted, had angrily busied himself, and chopped apile of real logs that would last a week. He had also cleaned the stove,and nailed up the bed, the pillow-end of which was on the floor. Itappeared the master of the house had been sleeping in it the reverseway on account of the slant. Thus had Lin cooked and dined alone, suppedalone, and sat over some old newspapers until bed-time alone with hissense of virtue. And now here it was long after breakfast, and no Tommyyet.

  "It's good yu' come this forenoon," Lin said to me. "I'd not have hadthe heart to get up another dinner just for myself. Let's eat rich!"

  Accordingly, we had richly eaten, Lin and I. He had gone out among thesheds and caught some eggs (that is how he spoke of it), we had openeda number of things in cans, and I had made my famous dish of evaporatedapricots, in which I managed to fling a suspicion of caramel throughoutthe stew.

  "Tommy'll be hot about these," said Lin, joyfully, as we ate the eggs."He don't mind what yu' use of his canned goods--pickled salmon andtruck. He is hospitable all right enough till it comes to an egg. Thenhe'll tell any lie. But shucks! Yu' can read Tommy right through hisclothing. 'Make yourself at home, Lin,' says he, yesterday. And heshowed me his fresh milk and his stuff. 'Here's a new ham,' says he;'too bad my damned hens ain't been layin'. The sons-o'guns have quit onme ever since Christmas.' And away he goes to Powder River for the mail.'You swore too heavy about them hens,' thinks I. Well, I expect he mayhave travelled half a mile by the time I'd found four nests."

  I am fond of eggs, and eat them constantly--and in Wyoming they werealways a luxury. But I never forget those that day, and how Lin andI enjoyed them thinking of Tommy. Perhaps manhood was not quiteestablished in my own soul at that time--and perhaps that is the reasonwhy it is the only time I have ever known which I would live over again,those years when people said, "You are old enough to know better"--andone didn't care!

  Salmon, apricots, eggs, we dealt with them all properly, and I had somecigars. It was now that the news came back into my head.

  "What do you think of--" I began, and stopped.

  I spoke out of a long silence, the slack, luxurious silence ofdigestion. I got no answer, naturally, from the torpid Lin, and then itoccurred to me that he would have asked me what I thought, long beforethis, had he known. So, observing how comfortable he was, I begandifferently.

  "What is the most important event that can happen in this country?" saidI.

  Mr. McLean heard me where he lay along the floor of the cabin on hisback, dozing by the fire; but his eyes remained closed. He waggled onelimp, open hand slightly at me, and torpor resumed her dominion overhim.

  "I want to know what you consider the most important event that canhappen in this country," said I, again, enunciating each word with slowclearness.

  The throat and lips of Mr. McLean moved, and a sulky sound came forththat I recognized to be meant for the word "War." Then he rolled over sothat his face was away from me, and put an arm over his eyes.

  "I don't mean country in the sense of United States," said I. "I meanthis country here, and Bear Creek, and--well, the ranches southward forfifty miles, say. Important to this section."

  "Mosquitoes'll be due in about three weeks," said Lin. "Yu' might leavea man rest till then."

  "I want your opinion," said I.

  "Oh, misery! Well, a raise in the price of steers."

  "No."

  "Yu' said yu' wanted my opinion," said Lin. "Seems like yu' merelyfigure on givin' me yours."

  "Very well," said I. "Very well, then."

  I took up a copy of the Cheyenne Sun. It was five weeks old, and I soonperceived that I had read it three weeks ago; but I read it again forsome minutes now.

  "I expect a railroad would be more important," said Mr. McLean,persuasively, from the floor.

  "Than a rise in steers?" said I, occupied with the Cheyenne Sun. "Ohyes. Yes, a railroad certainly would."

  "It's got to be money, anyhow," stated Lin, thoroughly wakened. "Moneyin some shape."

  "How little you understand the real wants of the cou
ntry!" said I,coming to the point. "It's a girl."

  Mr. McLean lay quite still on the floor.

  "A girl," I repeated. "A new girl coming to this starved country."

  The cow-puncher took a long, gradual stretch and began to smile. "Well,"said he, "yu' caught me--if that's much to do when a man is half-wittedwith dinner and sleep." He closed his eyes again and lay with a speciousexpression of indifference. But that sort of thing is a solitaryentertainment, and palls. "Starved," he presently muttered. "We are kindo' starved that way I'll admit. More dollars than girls to the squaremile. And to think of all of us nice, healthy, young--bet yu' I know whoshe is!" he triumphantly cried. He had sat up and levelled a finger atme with the throw-down jerk of a marksman. "Sidney, Nebraska."

  I nodded. This was not the lady's name--he could not recall hername--but his geography of her was accurate.

  One day in February my friend, Mrs. Taylor over on Bear Creek, hadreceived a letter--no common event for her. Therefore, during severaldays she had all callers read it just as naturally as she had them allsee the new baby, and baby and letter had both been brought out for me.The letter was signed,

  "Ever your afectionite frend.

  "Katie Peck,"

  and was not easy to read, here and there. But you could piece out thedrift of it, and there was Mrs. Taylor by your side, eager to help youwhen you stumbled. Miss Peck wrote that she was overworked in Sidney,Nebraska, and needed a holiday. When the weather grew warm she shouldlike to come to Bear Creek and be like old times. "Like to come and belike old times" filled Mrs. Taylor with sentiment and the cow-puncherswith expectation. But it is a long way from February to warm weather onBear Creek, and even cow-punchers will forget about a new girl if shedoes not come. For several weeks I had not heard Miss Peck mentioned,and old girls had to do. Yesterday, however, when I paid a visit to MissMolly Wood (the Bear Creek schoolmistress), I found her keeping inorder the cabin and the children of the Taylors, while they were goneforty-five miles to the stage station to meet their guest.

  "Well," said Lin, judicially, "Miss Wood is a lady."

  "Yes," said I, with deep gravity. For I was thinking of an occasion whenMr. McLean had discovered that truth somewhat abruptly.

  Lin thoughtfully continued. "She is--she's--she's--what are you laughin'at?"

  "Oh, nothing. You don't see quite so much of Miss Wood as you used to,do you?"

  "Huh! So that's got around. Well, o' course I'd ought t've knowedbetter, I suppose. All the same, there's lots and lots of girls do likegettin' kissed against their wishes--and you know it."

  "But the point would rather seem to be that she--"

  "Would rather seem! Don't yu' start that professor style o' yours, orI'll--I'll talk more wickedness in worse language than ever yu've heardme do yet."

  "Impossible!" I murmured, sweetly, and Master Lin went on.

  "As to point--that don't need to be explained to me. She's a lady allright." He ruminated for a moment. "She has about scared all the boysoff, though," he continued. "And that's what you get by being refined,"he concluded, as if Providence had at length spoken in this matter.

  "She has not scared off a boy from Virginia, I notice," said I. "Hewas there yesterday afternoon again. Ridden all the way over from SunkCreek. Didn't seem particularly frightened."

  "Oh, well, nothin' alarms him--not even refinement," said Mr. McLean,with his grin. "And she'll fool your Virginian like she done the balanceof us. You wait. Shucks! If all the girls were that chilly, why, whatwould us poor punchers do?"

  "You have me cornered," said I, and we sat in a philosophical silence,Lin on the floor still, and I at the window. There I looked out upona scene my eyes never tired of then, nor can my memory now. Springhad passed over it with its first, lightest steps. The pastured levelsundulated in emerald. Through the many-changing sage, that just thismoment of to-day was lilac, shone greens scarce a week old in thedimples of the foot-hills; and greens new-born beneath today's sunmelted among them. Around the doubling of the creek in the willowthickets glimmered skeined veils of yellow and delicate crimson. Thestream poured turbulently away from the snows of the mountains behindus. It went winding in many folds across the meadows into distanceand smallness, and so vanished round the great red battlement of wallbeyond. Upon this were falling the deep hues of afternoon--violet, rose,and saffron, swimming and meeting as if some prism had dissolved andflowed over the turrets and crevices of the sandstone. Far over there Isaw a dot move.

  "At last!" said I.

  Lin looked out of the window. "It's more than Tommy," said he, atonce; and his eyes made it out before mine could. "It's a wagon. That'sTommy's bald-faced horse alongside. He's fooling to the finish," Linseverely commented, as if, after all this delay, there should at leastbe a homestretch.

  Presently, however, a homestretch seemed likely to occur. The bald-facedhorse executed some lively manoeuvres, and Tommy's voice reached usfaintly through the light spring air. He was evidently howling theremarkable strain of yells that the cow-punchers invented as the speechbest understood by cows--"Oi-ee, yah, whoop-yahye-ee, oooo-oop, oop,oop-oop-oop-oop-yah-hee!" But that gives you no idea of it. Alphabetsare worse than photographs. It is not the lungs of every man that canproduce these effects, nor even from armies, eagles, or mules were suchsounds ever heard on earth. The cow-puncher invented them. And whenthe last cow-puncher is laid to rest (if that, alas! have not alreadybefallen) the yells will be forever gone. Singularly enough, the cattleappeared to appreciate them. Tommy always did them very badly, and thatwas plain even at this distance. Nor did he give us a homestretch,after all. The bald-faced horse made a number of evolutions and returnedbeside the wagon.

  "Showin' off," remarked Lin. "Tommy's showin' off." Suspicion crossedhis face, and then certainty. "Why, we might have knowed that!" heexclaimed, in dudgeon. "It's her." He hastened outside for a betterlook, and I came to the door myself. "That's what it is," said he. "It'sthe girl. Oh yes. That's Taylor's buckskin pair he traded Balaam for.She come by the stage all right yesterday, yu' see, but she has beentoo tired to travel, yu' see, or else, maybe, Taylor wanted to rest hisbuckskins--they're four-year-olds. Or else--anyway, they laid over lastnight at Powder River, and Tommy he has just laid over too, yu'see, holdin' the mail back on us twenty-four hours--and that's yourpostmaster!"

  It was our postmaster, and this he had done, quite as the virtuouslyindignant McLean surmised. Had I taken the same interest in the newgirl, I suppose that I too should have felt virtuously indignant.

  Lin and I stood outside to receive the travellers. As their cavalcadedrew near, Mr. McLean grew silent and watchful, his whole attentionfocused upon the Taylors' vehicle. Its approach was joyous. Its gearmade a cheerful clanking, Taylor cracked his whip and encouraginglychirruped to his buckskins, and Tommy's apparatus jingled musically. ForTommy wore upon himself and his saddle all the things you can wear inthe Wild West. Except that his hair was not long, our postmaster mighthave conducted a show and minted gold by exhibiting his romantic personbefore the eyes of princes. He began with a black-and-yellow rattlesnakeskin for a hat-band, he continued with a fringed and beaded shirt ofbuckskin, and concluded with large, tinkling spurs. Of course, therewere things between his shirt and his heels, but all leather and deadlyweapons. He had also a riata, a cuerta, and tapaderos, and frequentlyemployed these Spanish names for the objects. I wish that I had not lostTommy's photograph in Rocky Mountain costume. You must understand thathe was really pretty, with blue eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a gracefulfigure; and, besides, he had twenty-four hours' start of poor dusty Lin,whose best clothes were elsewhere.

  You might have supposed that it would be Mrs. Taylor who should presentus to her friend from Sidney, Nebraska; but Tommy on his horse undertookthe office before the wagon had well come to a standstill. "Good friendsof mine, and gentlemen, both," said he to Miss Peck; and to us, "A ladywhose acquaintance will prove a treat to our section."

  We all bowed at each other beneath the
florid expanse of theserecommendations, and I was proceeding to murmur something about itsbeing a long journey and a fine day when Miss Peck cut me short, gaily:

  "Well," she exclaimed to Tommy, "I guess I'm pretty near ready for themeggs you've spoke so much about."

  I have not often seen Mr. McLean lose his presence of mind. He neededmerely to exclaim, "Why, Tommy, you told me your hens had not beenlaying since Christmas!" and we could have sat quiet and let Tommytry to find all the eggs that he could. But the new girl was a soreembarrassment to the cow-puncher's wits. Poor Lin stood by the wheelsof the wagon. He looked up at Miss Peck, he looked over at Tommy, hisfeatures assumed a rueful expression, and he wretchedly blurted,

  "Why, Tommy, I've been and eat 'em."

  "Well, if that ain't!" cried Miss Peck. She stared with interest at Linas he now assisted her to descend.

  "All?" faltered Tommy. "Not the four nests?"

  "I've had three meals, yu' know," Lin reminded him, deprecatingly.

  "I helped him," said I. "Ten innocent, fresh eggs. But we have left someham. Forgive us, please."

  "I declare!" said Miss Peck, abruptly, and rolled her sluggish, invitingeyes upon me. "You're a case, too, I expect."

  But she took only brief note of me, although it was from head to foot.In her stare the dull shine of familiarity grew vacant, and she turnedback to Lin McLean. "You carry that," said she, and gave the pleasedcow-puncher a hand valise.

  "I'll look after your things, Miss Peck," called Tommy, now springingdown from his horse. The egg tragedy had momentarily stunned him.

  "You'll attend to the mail first, Mr. Postmaster!" said the lady,but favoring him with a look from her large eyes. "There's plenty ofgentlemen here." With that her glance favored Lin. She went into thecabin, he following her close, with the Taylors and myself in the rear."Well, I guess I'm about collapsed!" said she, vigorously, and sank uponone of Tommy's chairs.

  The fragile article fell into sticks beneath her, and Lin leaped to herassistance. He placed her upon a firmer foundation. Mrs. Taylor broughta basin and towel to bathe the dust from her face, Mr. Taylor producedwhiskey, and I found sugar and hot water. Tommy would doubtless havedone something in the way of assistance or restoratives, but he was goneto the stable with the horses.

  "Shall I get your medicine from the valise, deary?" inquired Mrs.Taylor.

  "Not now," her visitor answered; and I wondered why she should take sucha quick look at me.

  "We'll soon have yu' independent of medicine," said Lin, gallantly. "Ourclimate and scenery here has frequently raised the dead."

  "You're a case, anyway!" exclaimed the sick lady with rich conviction.

  The cow-puncher now sat himself on the edge of Tommy's bed, and,throwing one leg across the other, began to raise her spirits withcheerful talk. She steadily watched him--his face sometimes, sometimeshis lounging, masculine figure. While he thus devoted his attentions toher, Taylor departed to help Tommy at the stable, and good Mrs. Taylor,busy with supper for all of us in the kitchen, expressed her joy athaving her old friend of childhood for a visit after so many years.

  "Sickness has changed poor Katie some," said she. "But I'm hoping she'llget back her looks on Bear Creek."

  "She seems less feeble than I had understood," I remarked.

  "Yes, indeed! I do believe she's feeling stronger. She was that tiredand down yesterday with the long stage-ride, and it is so lonesome! ButTaylor and I heartened her up, and Tommy came with the mail, and to-dayshe's real spruced-up like, feeling she's among friends."

  "How long will she stay?" I inquired.

  "Just as long as ever she wants! Me and Katie hasn't met since we wasyoung girls in Dubuque, for I left home when I married Taylor, and hebrought me to this country right soon; and it ain't been like Dubuquemuch, though if I had it to do over again I'd do just the same, asTaylor knows. Katie and me hasn't wrote even, not till this February,for you always mean to and you don't. Well, it'll be like old times.Katie'll be most thirty-four, I expect. Yes. I was seventeen and she wassixteen the very month I was married. Poor thing! She ought to have gotsome good man for a husband, but I expect she didn't have any chance,for there was a big fam'ly o' them girls, and old Peck used to act realscandalous, getting drunk so folks didn't visit there evenings scarcelyat all. And so she quit home, it seems, and got a position in therailroad eating-house at Sidney, and now she has poor health withfeeding them big trains day and night."

  "A biscuit-shooter!" said I.

  Loyal Mrs. Taylor stirred some batter in silence. "Well," said she then,"I'm told that's what the yard-hands of the railroad call them poorwaiter-girls. You might hear it around the switches at them divisionstations."

  I had heard it in higher places also, but meekly accepted the reproof.

  If you have made your trans-Missouri journeys only since the new era ofdining-cars, there is a quantity of things you have come too late for,and will never know. Three times a day in the brave days of old yousprang from your scarce-halted car at the summons of a gong. Youdiscerned by instinct the right direction, and, passing steadily throughdoorways, had taken, before you knew it, one of some sixty chairs ina room of tables and catsup bottles. Behind the chairs, standingattention, a platoon of Amazons, thick-wristed, pink-and-blue, beganimmediately a swift chant. It hymned the total bill-of-fare at a blow.In this inexpressible ceremony the name of every dish went hurtling intothe next, telescoped to shapelessness. Moreover, if you stopped yourAmazon in the middle, it dislocated her, and she merely went back andtook a fresh start. The chant was always the same, but you never learnedit. As soon as it began, your mind snapped shut like the upper berthin a Pullman. You must have uttered appropriate words--even a parrotwill--for next you were eating things--pie, ham, hot cakes--as fast asyou could. Twenty minutes of swallowing, and all aboard for Ogden, withyour pile-driven stomach dumb with amazement. The Strasburg goose isnot dieted with greater velocity, and "biscuit-shooter" is a grand word.Very likely some Homer of the railroad yards first said it--for whatmen upon the present earth so speak with imagination's tongue as weAmericans?

  If Miss Peck had been a biscuit-shooter, I could account readily for herconversation, her equipped deportment, the maturity in her round, blue,marble eye. Her abrupt laugh, something beyond gay, was now soundingin response to Mr. McLean's lively sallies, and I found him fanning herinto convalescence with his hat. She herself made but few remarks, butallowed the cow-puncher to entertain her, merely exclaiming brieflynow and then, "I declare!" and "If you ain't!" Lin was most certainlyengaging, if that was the lady's meaning. His wide-open eyes sparkledupon her, and he half closed them now and then to look at her moreeffectively. I suppose she was worth it to him. I have forgotten to saythat she was handsome in a large California-fruit style. They made agood-looking pair of animals. But it was in the presence of Tommy thatMaster Lin shone more energetically than ever, and under such shiningTommy was transparently restless. He tried, and failed, to bringthe conversation his way, and took to rearranging the mail and thefurniture.

  "Supper's ready," he said, at length. "Come right in, Miss Peck; rightin here. This is your seat--this one, please. Now you can see my fieldsout of the window."

  "You sit here," said the biscuit-shooter to Lin; and thus she wasbetween them. "Them's elegant!" she presently exclaimed to Tommy. "Didyou cook 'em?"

  I explained that the apricots were of my preparation.

  "Indeed!" said she, and returned to Tommy, who had been telling her ofhis ranch, his potatoes, his horses. "And do you punch cattle, too?" sheinquired of him.

  "Me?" said Tommy, slightingly; "gave it up years ago; too empty alife for me. I leave that to such as like it. When a man owns his ownproperty"--Tommy swept his hand at the whole landscape--"he takes tomore intellectual work."

  "Lickin' postage-stamps," Mr. McLean suggested, sourly.

  "You lick them and I cancel them," answered the postmaster; and it doesnot seem a powerful rejoinder. But Miss Peck uttered her laugh.

&nb
sp; "That's one on you," she told Lin. And throughout this meal it was Tommywho had her favor. She partook of his generous supplies; she listened tohis romantic inventions, the trails he had discovered, the bears he hadslain; and after supper it was with Tommy, and not with Lin, that shewent for a little walk.

  "Katie was ever a tease," said Mrs. Taylor of her childhood friend, andMr. Taylor observed that there was always safety in numbers. "She'll getused to the ways of this country quicker than our little school-marm,"said he.

  Mr. McLean said very little, but read the new-arrived papers. It wasonly when bedtime dispersed us, the ladies in the cabin and the menchoosing various spots outside, that he became talkative again for awhile. We lay in the blank--we had spread on some soft, dry sand inpreference to the stable, where Taylor and Tommy had gone. Under thecontemplative influence of the stars, Lin fell into generalization.

  "Ever notice," said he, "how whiskey and lyin' act the same on a man?"

  I did not feel sure that I had.

  "Just the same way. You keep either of 'em up long enough, and yu' getto require it. If Tommy didn't lie some every day, he'd get sick."

  I was sleepy, but I murmured assent to this, and trusted he would not goon.

  "Ever notice," said he, "how the victims of the whiskey and lyin' habitget to increasing the dose?"

  "Yes," said I.

  "Him roping six bears!" pursued Mr. McLean, after further contemplation."Or any bear. Ever notice how the worser a man's lyin' the silenterother men'll get? Why's that, now?"

  I believe that I made a faint sound to imply that I was following him.

  "Men don't get took in. But ladies now, they--"

  Here he paused again, and during the next interval of contemplation Isank beyond his reach.

  In the morning I left Riverside for Buffalo, and there or thereabouts Iremained for a number of weeks. Miss Peck did not enter my thoughts, nordid I meet any one to remind me of her, until one day I stopped atthe drug-store. It was not for drugs, but gossip, that I went. In thedaytime there was no place like the apothecary's for meeting men andhearing the news. There I heard how things were going everywhere,including Bear Creek.

  All the cow-punchers liked the new girl up there, said gossip. She wasa great addition to society. Reported to be more companionable thanthe school-marm, Miss Molly Wood, who had been raised too far east, andshowed it. Vermont, or some such dude place. Several had been in townbuying presents for Miss Katie Peck. Tommy Postmaster had paid high fora necklace of elk-tushes the government scout at McKinney sold him.Too bad Miss Peck did not enjoy good health. Shorty had been in onlyyesterday to get her medicine again. Third bottle. Had I heard the bigjoke on Lin McLean? He had promised her the skin of a big bear he knewthe location of, and Tommy got the bear.

  Two days after this I joined one of the roundup camps at sunset. Theyhad been working from Salt Creek to Bear Creek, and the Taylor ranch wasin visiting distance from them again, after an interval of gatheringand branding far across the country. The Virginian, the gentle-voicedSoutherner, whom I had last seen lingering with Miss Wood, was incamp. Silent three-quarters of the time, as was his way, he sat gravelywatching Lin McLean. That person seemed silent also, as was not his wayquite so much.

  "Lin," said the Southerner, "I reckon you're failin'."

  Mr. McLean raised a sombre eye, but did not trouble to answer further.

  "A healthy man's laigs ought to fill his pants," pursued the Virginian.The challenged puncher stretched out a limb and showed his muscles withyoung pride.

  "And yu' cert'nly take no comfort in your food," his ingenious friendcontinued, slowly and gently.

  "I'll eat you a match any day and place yu' name," said Lin.

  "It ain't sca'cely hon'able," went on the Virginian, "to waste awaydurin' the round-up. A man owes his strength to them that hires it. Ifhe is paid to rope stock he ought to rope stock, and not leave it dodgeor pull away."

  "It's not many dodge my rope," boasted Lin, imprudently.

  "Why, they tell me as how that heifer of the Sidney-Nebraska brand gotplumb away from yu', and little Tommy had to chase afteh her."

  Lin sat up angrily amid the laughter, but reclined again. "I'llimprove," said he, "if yu' learn me how yu' rope that Vermont stock sohandy. Has she promised to be your sister yet?" he added.

  "Is that what they do?" inquired the Virginian, serenely. "I have nevergot related that way. Why, that'll make Tommy your brother-in-law, Lin!"

  And now, indeed, the camp laughed a loud, merciless laugh.

  But Lin was silent. Where everybody lives in a glass-house the victoryis to him who throws the adroitest stone. Mr. McLean was readier wittedthan most, but the gentle, slow Virginian could be a master when hechose.

  "Tommy has been recountin' his wars up at the Taylors'," he now told thecamp. "He has frequently campaigned with General Crook, GeneralMiles, and General Ruger, all at onced. He's an exciting fighter, inconversation, and kep' us all scared for mighty nigh an hour. Miss Peckappeared interested in his statements."

  "What was you doing at the Taylors' yourself?" demanded Lin.

  "Visitin' Miss Wood," answered the Virginian, with entire ease. For healso knew when to employ the plain truth as a bluff. "You'd ought towrite to Tommy's mother, Lin, and tell her what a dare-devil her son isgettin' to be. She would cut off his allowance and bring him home, andyou would have the runnin' all to yourself."

  "I'll fix him yet," muttered Mr. McLean. "Him and his wars."

  With that he rose and left us.

  The next afternoon he informed me that if I was riding up the creek tospend the night he would go for company. In that direction we started,therefore, without any mention of the Taylors or Miss Peck. I waspuzzled. Never had I seen him thus disconcerted by woman. With him womanhad been a transient disturbance. I had witnessed a series of flightyromances, where the cow-puncher had come, seen, often conquered, andmoved on. Nor had his affairs been of the sort to teach a young manrespect. I am putting it rather mildly.

  For the first part of our way this afternoon he was moody, and afterthat began to speak with appalling wisdom about life. Life, he said, wasa serious matter. Did I realize that? A man was liable to forget it. Aman was liable to go sporting and helling around till he waked up someday and found all his best pleasures had become just a business. Nointerest, no surprise, no novelty left, and no cash in the bank. Shortyowed him fifty dollars. Shorty would be able to pay that after theround-up, and he, Lin, would get his time and rustle altogether somefive hundred dollars. Then there was his homestead claim on Box Elder,and the surveyors were coming in this fall. No better location for ahome in this country than Box Elder. Wood, water, fine land. All itneeded was a house and ditches and buildings and fences, and to beplanted with crops. Such chances and considerations should sober aman and make him careful what he did. "I'd take in Cheyenne on ourwedding-trip, and after that I'd settle right down to improving BoxElder," concluded Mr. McLean, suddenly.

  His real intentions flashed upon me for the first time. I had notremotely imagined such a step.

  "Marry her!" I screeched in dismay. "Marry her!"

  I don't know which word was the worse to emphasize at such a moment, butI emphasized both thoroughly.

  "I didn't expect yu'd act that way," said the lover. He dropped behindme fifty yards and spoke no more.

  Not at once did I beg his pardon for the brutality I had been surprisedinto. It is one of those speeches that, once said, is said forever.

  But it was not that which withheld me. As I thought of the tone in whichmy friend had replied, it seemed to me sullen, rather than deeply angryor wounded--resentment at my opinion not of her character so much asof his choice! Then I began to be sorry for the fool, and schemed fora while how to intervene. But have you ever tried intervention? I soonabandoned the idea, and took a way to be forgiven, and to learn more.

  "Lin," I began, slowing my horse, "you must not think about what Isaid."

  "I'm thinkin' of pleasanter
subjects," said he, and slowed his ownhorse.

  "Oh, look here!" I exclaimed.

  "Well?" said he. He allowed his horse to come within about ten yards.

  "Astonishment makes a man say anything," I proceeded. "And I'll sayagain you're too good for her--and I'll say I don't generally believe inthe wife being older than the husband."

  "What's two years?" said Lin.

  I was near screeching out again, but saved myself. He was not quitetwenty-five, and I remembered Mrs. Taylor's unprejudiced computationof the biscuit-shooter's years. It is a lady's prerogative, however, toestimate her own age.

  "She had her twenty-seventh birthday last month," said Lin, withsentiment, bringing his horse entirely abreast of mine. "I promised hera bear-skin."

  "Yes," said I, "I heard about that in Buffalo."

  Lin's face grew dusky with anger. "No doubt yu' heard about it," saidhe. "I don't guess yu' heard much about anything else. I ain't toldthe truth to any of 'em--but her." He looked at me with a certainhesitation. "I think I will," he continued. "I don't mind tellin' you."

  He began to speak in a strictly business tone, while he evened the coilsof rope that hung on his saddle.

  "She had spoke to me about her birthday, and I had spoke to her aboutsomething to give her. I had offered to buy her in town whatever shenamed, and I was figuring to borrow from Taylor. But she fancied thenotion of a bear-skin. I had mentioned about some cubs. I had found thecubs where the she-bear had them cached by the foot of a big boulder inthe range over Ten Sleep, and I put back the leaves and stuff on top o'them little things as near as I could the way I found them, so that thebear would not suspicion me. For I was aiming to get her. And Miss Peck,she sure wanted the hide for her birthday. So I went back. The she-bearwas off, and I crumb up inside the rock, and I waited a turruble longspell till the sun travelled clean around the canyon. Mrs. Bear comehome though, a big cinnamon; and I raised my gun, but laid it down tosee what she'd do. She scrapes around and snuffs, and the cubs startwhining, and she talks back to 'em. Next she sits up awful big, andlifts up a cub and holds it to her close with both her paws, same as aperson. And she rubbed her ear agin the cub, and the cub sort o' nippedher, and she cuffed the cub, and the other cub came toddlin', and awaythey starts rolling all three of 'em! I watched that for a long while.That big thing just nursed and played with them little cubs, beatin' emfor a change onced in a while, and talkin', and onced in a while she'dsit up solemn and look all around so life-like that I near busted. Why,how was I goin' to spoil that? So I come away, very quiet, you bet! forI'd have hated to have Mrs. Bear notice me. Miss Peck, she laughed. Sheclaimed I was scared to shoot."

  "After you had told her why it was?" said I.

  "Before and after. I didn't tell her first, because I felt kind offoolish. Then Tommy went and he killed the bear all right, and she hasthe skin now. Of course the boys joshed me a heap about gettin' beat byTommy."

  "But since she has taken you?" said I.

  "She ain't said it. But she will when she understands Tommy."

  I fancied that the lady understood. The once I had seen her she appearedto me as what might be termed an expert in men, and one to understandalso the reality of Tommy's ranch and allowance, and how greatly thesediffered from Box Elder. Probably the one thing she could not understandwas why Lin spared the mother and her cubs. A deserted home in Dubuque,a career in a railroad eating-house, a somewhat vague past, and apresent lacking context--indeed, I hoped with all my heart that Tommywould win!

  "Lin," said I, "I'm backing him."

  "Back away!" said he. "Tommy can please a woman--him and his blueeyes--but he don't savvy how to make a woman want him, not any betterthan he knows about killin' Injuns."

  "Did you hear about the Crows?" said I.

  "About young bucks going on the war-path? Shucks! That's put up by thepapers of this section. They're aimin' to get Uncle Sam to order histroops out, and then folks can sell hay and stuff to 'em. If Tommybelieved any Crows--" he stopped, and suddenly slapped his leg.

  "What's the matter now?" I asked.

  "Oh, nothing." He took to singing, and his face grew roguish to its fullextent. "What made yu' say that to me?" he asked, presently.

  "Say what?"

  "About marrying. Yu' don't think I'd better."

  "I don't."

  "Onced in a while yu' tell me I'm flighty. Well, I am. Whoop-ya!"

  "Colts ought not to marry," said I.

  "Sure!" said he. And it was not until we came in sight of theVirginian's black horse tied in front of Miss Wood's cabin nextthe Taylors' that Lin changed the lively course of thought that wasevidently filling his mind.

  "Tell yu'," said he, touching my arm confidentially and pointing tothe black horse, "for all her Vermont refinement she's a woman just thesame. She likes him dangling round her so earnest--him that no body eversaw dangle before. And he has quit spreein' with the boys. And what doeshe get by it? I am glad I was not raised good enough to appreciate theMiss Woods of this world," he added, defiantly--"except at long range."

  At the Taylors' cabin we found Miss Wood sitting with her admirer, andTommy from Riverside come to admire Miss Peck. The biscuit-shooter mightpass for twenty-seven, certainly. Something had agreed with her--whetherthe medicine, or the mountain air, or so much masculine company;whatever had done it, she had bloomed into brutal comeliness. Her hairlooked curlier, her figure was shapelier, her teeth shone whiter, andher cheeks were a lusty, overbearing red. And there sat Molly Woodtalking sweetly to her big, grave Virginian; to look at them, there wasno doubt that he had been "raised good enough" to appreciate her, nomatter what had been his raising!

  Lin greeted every one jauntily. "How are yu', Miss Peck? How are yu',Tommy?" said he. "Hear the news, Tommy? Crow Injuns on the war-path."

  "I declare!" said the biscuit-shooter.

  The Virginian was about to say something, but his eye met Lin's, andthen he looked at Tommy. Then what he did say was, "I hadn't been goin'to mention it to the ladies until it was right sure."

  "You needn't to be afraid, Miss Peck," said Tommy. "There's lots of menhere."

  "Who's afraid?" said the biscuit-shooter.

  "Oh," said Lin, "maybe it's like most news we get in this country. Twoweeks stale and a lie when it was fresh."

  "Of course," said Tommy.

  "Hello, Tommy!" called Taylor from the lane. "Your horse has broke hisrein and run down the field."

  Tommy rose in disgust and sped after the animal.

  "I must be cooking supper now," said Katie, shortly.

  "I'll stir for yu'," said Lin, grinning at her.

  "Come along then," said she; and they departed to the adjacent kitchen.

  Miss Wood's gray eyes brightened with mischief. She looked at herVirginian, and she looked at me.

  "Do you know," she said, "I used to be so afraid that when Bear Creekwasn't new any more it might become dull!"

  "Miss Peck doesn't find it dull either," said I.

  Molly Wood immediately assumed a look of doubt. "But mightn't it becomejust--just a little trying to have two gentlemen so very--determined,you know?"

  "Only one is determined," said the Virginian

  Molly looked inquiring.

  "Lin is determined Tommy shall not beat him. That's all it amounts to."

  "Dear me, what a notion!"

  "No, ma'am, no notion. Tommy--well, Tommy is considered harmless, ma'am.A cow-puncher of reputation in this country would cert'nly never letTommy get ahaid of him that way."

  "It's pleasant to know sometimes how much we count!" exclaimed Molly.

  "Why, ma'am," said the Virginian, surprised at her flash of indignation,"where is any countin' without some love?"

  "Do you mean to say that Mr. McLean does not care for Miss Peck?"

  "I reckon he thinks he does. But there is a mighty wide differencebetween thinkin' and feelin', ma'am."

  I saw Molly's eyes drop from his, and I saw the rose deepen in hercheeks. But just then a lo
ud voice came from the kitchen.

  "You, Lin, if you try any of your foolin' with me, I'll histe yu's overthe jiste!"

  "All cow-punchers--" I attempted to resume.

  "Quit now, Lin McLean," shouted the voice, "or I'll put yus through thatwindow, and it shut."

  "Well, Miss Peck, I'm gettin' most a full dose o' this treatment. Eversince yu' come I've been doing my best. And yu' just cough in my face.And now I'm going to quit and cough back."

  "Would you enjoy walkin' out till supper, ma'am?" inquired the Virginianas Molly rose. "You was speaking of gathering some flowers yondeh."

  "Why, yes," said Molly, blithely. "And you'll come?" she added to me.

  But I was on the Virginian's side. "I must look after my horse," said I,and went down to the corral.

  Day was slowly going as I took my pony to the water. Corncliff Mesa,Crowheart Butte, these shone in the rays that came through the canyon.The canyon's sides lifted like tawny castles in the same light. WhereI walked the odor of thousands of wild roses hung over the margin wherethe thickets grew. High in the upper air, magpies were sailing acrossthe silent blue. Somewhere I could hear Tommy explaining loudly how heand General Crook had pumped lead into hundreds of Indians; and whensupper-time brought us all back to the door he was finishing the accountto Mrs. Taylor. Molly and the Virginian arrived bearing flowers, and hewas saying that few cow-punchers had any reason for saving their money.

  "But when you get old?" said she.

  "We mostly don't live long enough to get old, ma'am," said he, simply."But I have a reason, and I am saving."

  "Give me the flowers," said Molly. And she left him to arrange them onthe table as Lin came hurrying out.

  "I've told her," said he to the Southerner and me, "that I've asked hertwiced, and I'm going to let her have one more chance. And I've told herthat if it's a log cabin she's marryin', why Tommy is a sure good woodenpiece of furniture to put inside it. And I guess she knows there's notmuch wooden furniture about me. I want to speak to you." He took theVirginian round the corner. But though he would not confide in me, Ibegan to discern something quite definite at supper.

  "Cattle men will lose stock if the Crows get down as far as this," hesaid, casually, and Mrs. Taylor suppressed a titter.

  "Ain't it hawses the're repawted as running off?" said the Virginian.

  "Chap come into the round-up this afternoon," said Lin. "But he wasrattled, and told a heap o' facts that wouldn't square."

  "Of course they wouldn't," said Tommy, haughtily.

  "Oh, there's nothing in it," said Lin, dismissing the subject.

  "Have yu' been to the opera since we went to Cheyenne, Mrs. Taylor?"

  Mrs. Taylor had not.

  "Lin," said the Virginian, "did yu ever see that opera Cyarmen?"

  "You bet. Fellow's girl quits him for a bullfighter. Gets him up inthe mountains, and quits him. He wasn't much good--not in her class o'sports, smugglin' and such."

  "I reckon she was doubtful of him from the start. Took him to themount'ins to experiment, where they'd not have interruption," said theVirginian.

  "Talking of mountains," said Tommy, "this range here used to be a greatplace for Indians till we ran 'em out with Terry. Pumped lead into thered sons-of-guns."

  "You bet," said Lin. "Do yu' figure that girl tired of her bull-fighterand quit him, too?"

  "I reckon," replied the Virginian, "that the bull-fighter wore better."

  "Fans and taverns and gypsies and sportin'," said Lin. "My! but I'd liketo see them countries with oranges and bull-fights! Only I expect Spain,maybe, ain't keepin' it up so gay as when 'Carmen' happened."

  The table-talk soon left romance and turned upon steers and alfalfa, agrass but lately introduced in the country. No further mention was madeof the hostile Crows, and from this I drew the false conclusion thatTommy had not come up to their hopes in the matter of reciting hiscampaigns. But when the hour came for those visitors who were notspending the night to take their leave, Taylor drew Tommy aside with me,and I noticed the Virginian speaking with Molly Wood, whose face showeddiversion.

  "Don't seem to make anything of it," whispered Taylor to Tommy, "but theladies have got their minds on this Indian truck."

  "Why, I'll just explain--" began Tommy.

  "Don't," whispered Lin, joining us. "Yu' know how women are. Once theytake a notion, why, the more yu' deny the surer they get. Now, yu' see,him and me" (he jerked his elbow towards the Virginian) "must go back tocamp, for we're on second relief."

  "And the ladies would sleep better knowing there was another man in thehouse," said Taylor.

  "In that case," said Tommy, "I--"

  "Yu' see," said Lin, "they've been told about Ten Sleep being burned twonights ago."

  "It ain't!" cried Tommy.

  "Why, of course it ain't," drawled the ingenious Lin. "But that's what Isay. You and I know Ten Sleep's all right, but we can't report fromour own knowledge seeing it all right, and there it is. They get thesenervous notions."

  "Just don't appear to make anything special of not going back toRiverside," repeated Taylor, "but--"

  "But just kind of stay here," said Lin.

  "I will!" exclaimed Tommy. "Of course, I'm glad to oblige."

  I suppose I was slow-sighted. All this pains seemed to me larger thanits results. They had imposed upon Tommy, yes. But what of that? Hewas to be kept from going back to Riverside until morning. Unless theyproposed to visit his empty cabin and play tricks--but that would betoo childish, even for Lin McLean, to say nothing of the Virginian, hisoccasional partner in mischief.

  "In spite of the Crows," I satirically told the ladies, "I shall sleepoutside, as I intended. I've no use for houses at this season."

  The cinches of the horses were tightened, Lin and the Virginian laida hand on their saddle-horns, swung up, and soon all sound of thegalloping horses had ceased. Molly Wood declined to be nervous andcrossed to her little neighbor cabin; we all parted, and (as always inthat blessed country) deep sleep quickly came to me.

  I don't know how long after it was that I sprang from my blankets inhalf-doubting fright. But I had dreamed nothing. A second long,wild yell now gave me (I must own to it) a horrible chill. I had nopistol--nothing. In the hateful brightness of the moon my single thoughtwas "House! House!" and I fled across the lane in my underclothes tothe cabin, when round the corner whirled the two cow-punchers, and Iunderstood. I saw the Virginian catch sight of me in my shirt, and sawhis teeth as he smiled. I hastened to my blankets, and returned moredecent to stand and watch the two go shooting and yelling roundthe cabin, crazy with their youth. The door was opened, and Taylorcourageously emerged, bearing a Winchester. He fired at the skyimmediately.

  "B' gosh!" he roared. "That's one." He fired again. "Out and at 'em.They're running."

  At this, duly came Mrs. Taylor in white with a pistol, and Miss Peck inwhite, staring and stolid. But no Tommy. Noise prevailed without, shotsby the stable and shots by the creek. The two cow-punchers dismountedand joined Taylor. Maniac delight seized me, and I, too, rushed aboutwith them, helping the din.

  "Oh, Mr. Taylor!" said a voice. "I didn't think it of you." It was MollyWood, come from her cabin, very pretty in a hood-and-cloak arrangement.She stood by the fence, laughing, but more at us than with us.

  "Stop, friends!" said Taylor, gasping. "She teaches my Bobbie his A B C.I'd hate to have Bobbie--"

  "Speak to your papa," said Molly, and held her scholar up on the fence.

  "Well, I'll be gol-darned," said Taylor, surveying his costume, "if LinMcLean hasn't made a fool of me to-night!"

  "Where has Tommy got?" said Mrs. Taylor.

  "Didn't yus see him?" said the biscuit-shooter speaking her first wordin all this.

  We followed her into the kitchen. The table was covered with tin plates.Beneath it, wedged knelt Tommy with a pistol firm in his hand; but theplates were rattling up and down like castanets.

  There was a silence among us, and I wondered what we were going t
o do.

  "Well," murmured the Virginian to himself, "if I could have foresaw, I'dnot--it makes yu' feel humiliated yu'self."

  He marched out, got on his horse, and rode away. Lin followed him, butperhaps less penitently. We all dispersed without saying anything,and presently from my blankets I saw poor Tommy come out of the silentcabin, mount, and slowly, very slowly, ride away. He would spend thenight at Riverside, after all.

  Of course we recovered from our unexpected shame, and the tale of thetable and the dancing plates was not told as a sad one. But it is a sadone when you think of it.

  I was not there to see Lin get his bride. I learned from the Virginianhow the victorious puncher had ridden away across the sunny sagebrush,bearing the biscuit-shooter with him to the nearest justice of thepeace. She was astride the horse he had brought for her.

  "Yes, he beat Tommy," said the Virginian. "Some folks, anyway, get whatthey want in this hyeh world."

  From which I inferred that Miss Molly Wood was harder to beat thanTommy.