II. "WHEN YOU CALL ME THAT, SMILE!"
We cannot see ourselves as others 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. Drinks
for 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 cig
ar 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 cow-puncher. "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 the
m 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.