The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains

  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.