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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 Prof. Guy E. Grantham 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 3345.L7 1907 
 
 Lin McLean, 
 
 3 1924 022 229 805 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022229805 
 
UN MCLEAN 
 
Lin JMcLean 
 
 By OWEN WISTER 
 
 Author of " The Virginian," " Lady 
 Baltimore," etc. 
 
 Illustrated 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY.PuBLisHERs 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Published by arrangement with Harper & BroLbers ,,' ^ 
 
 

 Copyright, X897, 1907, by Harper & Brothers. 
 
 AU rights reserved. 
 
 .\t.^' 
 
 
 f^ 
 
My SEAR Harry Mercer : When Lin McLean was only a 
 hero in manuscript, he received his first welcome and chastening 
 beneath your patient roof. By none so much as by you has he 
 in private been helped and affectionately disciplined, and now 
 you must stand godfather to him upon this public page. 
 
 Always yours, 
 
 Owen Wister. 
 
 Fbiladelphla, 1891: 
 
PREFACE 
 
 A NEW edition of this novel gives me an op- 
 portunity to make ^its outward form correspond 
 to its essence, and to say a word which only 
 one critic found to say on its first publication. 
 Through my forgetting that appearances gen- 
 erally count for xaore than realities, Lin McLean 
 has always ranked as a collection of short stories, 
 whereas, after the young hero's first advent- 
 ure with his elder brother and the bishop, a 
 plot begins with the entrance of the "biscuit- 
 shooter," and steadily proceeds through climax 
 and catastrophe to solution. After some fifteen 
 years there is no harm in disclosing my scheme 
 of construction — something not well for the ar- 
 tist to do while engaged on his work. It was 
 my aim to tell a long story, not through a series 
 of chapters in the usual way, but through a chain 
 of short stories, each not only a complete advent- 
 ure in itself, but also a fragment of an under- 
 lying drama. Thus each new link inherited from 
 its predecessor a situation which it developed 
 and passed on to its successor. I had hoped that 
 this somewhat unusual device might be noticed, 
 and possibly create a little interest; but I had 
 overlooked the fact that matters of craftsmanship 
 vii 
 
PREFACE 
 
 do not fall into the light of critical attention here 
 as they do in Europe, where the writer is held 
 as much accountable for his manner of saying a 
 thing as for the thing he says. Lin McLean has, 
 nevertheless, continued in the enjoyment of a 
 modest favor, and now, almost ten years after 
 his total appearance in a volume, his story is 
 presented divided into chapters instead of into 
 episodes, but in all other respects the same. 
 
 o. w. 
 
 Philadelphia, November 12, X907. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAB PAGE 
 
 I. "Variety, You Bet!" i 
 
 II. How Lin went East 17 
 
 III. Home to the Sage-brush 28 
 
 IV. The New Girl 42 
 
 V. The Winning op the Biscuit-shooter. 62 
 
 VI. Honey-moon Lin 81 
 
 VII. "You Sage-brush Bigamist.''* .... 93 
 
 VIII. In Search of Christmas 114 
 
 IX. Santa-claus Lin 131 
 
 X. Young Responsibility 145 
 
 XI. The True Girl 161 
 
 XII. Concerning an Empty 178 
 
 XIII. Brother Nate 195 
 
 XIV. Separ's Vigilante 208 
 
 XV. "Neighbor" 226 
 
 XVI. Responsibility Talks 236 
 
 XVII. Re-enter the New Girl 248 
 
 XVIII. "Ambrosier. Honey-doo" 266 
 
 XIX. Destiny at Drybone 277 
 
 XX. "Neighbor" Again 301 
 
LIN MCLEAN 
 
 "variety, you bet!" 
 
 In the old days, the happy days, when Wyo- 
 ming was a Territory with a future instead of a 
 State with a past, and the unfenced cattle grazed 
 upon her ranges by prosperous thousands, young 
 Lin McLean awaked early one morning in cow 
 camp, and lay staring out of his blankets upon 
 the world. He would be twenty-two this week. 
 He was the youngest cow-puncher in camp. But 
 because he could break wild horses, he was earn- 
 ing more dollars a month than any man there, 
 except one. The cook was a more indispensable 
 person. None save the cook was up, so far, this 
 morning. Lin's brother punchers slept about 
 him on the ground, some motionless, some shift- 
 ing their prone heads to burrow deeper from the 
 increasing day. The busy work of spring was 
 over, that of the fall, or beef rotmd-up, not yet 
 come. It was mid- July, a lull for these hard-rid- 
 ing bachelors of the saddle, and many tmspent 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 dollar? stood to Mr. McLean's credit on the ranch 
 books. 
 
 "What's the matter with some variety?" mut- 
 tered the boy in his blankets. 
 
 The long range of the mountains lifted clear 
 in the air. They slanted from the purple folds 
 and furrows of the pines that richly cloaked them, 
 upward into rock and grassy bareness until they 
 broke remotely into bright peaks, and filmed into 
 the distant lavender of the north atsd the south. 
 On their western side the streams ran xnto Snake 
 or into Green River, and so at length met the 
 Pacific. On this side. Wind River flowed forth 
 from them, descending out of the Lake of the 
 Painted Meadows. A mere trout-brook it was 
 up there at the top of the divide, with easy rif- 
 fles and stepping-stones in many places; but' 
 down here, outside the mountains, it was become 
 a streaming avenue, a broadening course, impet- 
 uous between its two tall green walls of cotton- 
 wood-trees. And so it wotmd away Uke a vast 
 green ribbon across the lilac-gray sage-brush and 
 the yellow, vanishing plains. 
 
 "Variety, you bet!" young Lin repeated, aloud. 
 
 He unrolled himself from his bed, and brought 
 from the garments that made his pillow a few 
 toilet articles. He got on his long boy legs and 
 limped blithely to the margin. In the mornings 
 his slight lameness was always more visible. The 
 camp was at Bull Lake Crossing, where the fork 
 from Bull Lake joins Wind River. Here Lin 
 found some convenient shinglu-stones, with dark, 
 
 2 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 deepish water against them, where he plunged 
 his face and energetically washed, and came up 
 with the short curly hair shining upon his round 
 head. After enough looks at himself in the dark 
 water, and having knotted a clean, jaunty hand- 
 kerchief at his throat, he returned with his slight 
 limp to camp, where they were just sitting at 
 breakfast to the rear of the cook-shelf of the 
 wagon. 
 
 "Bugged up to kill!" exclaimed one, perceiving 
 Lin's careful dress. 
 
 "He sure has not shaved again?" another in- 
 quired, with concern. 
 
 "I 'ain't got my opera-glasses on," answered a 
 third. 
 
 "He has spared that pansy-blossom mustache," 
 said a fourth, 
 
 "My spring crop," remarked young Lin, round- 
 ing on this last one, "has juicier prospects than 
 that rat-eaten catastrophe of last year's hay which 
 wanders out of your face." 
 
 "Why, you'll soon be talking yourself into a 
 regular man," said the other. 
 
 But the camp laugh remained on the side of 
 young Lin till breakfast was ended, when the 
 ranch foreman rode into camp. 
 
 Him Lin McLean at once addressed. "I was 
 wantin' to speak to you," said he. 
 
 The experienced foreman noticed the boy's 
 holiday appearance. "I understand you're tired 
 of work," he remarked. 
 
 ■'Who told you?" asked the bewildered Lin. 
 3 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 The foreman touched the boy's pretty handker- 
 chief. "Well, I have a way of taking things in 
 at a glance," said he. "That's why I'm foreman, 
 I expect. So you've had enough work?" 
 
 "My system's full of it," replied Lin, grinning. 
 As the foreman stood thinking, he added, "And 
 I'd like my time." 
 
 Time, in the cattle idiom, meant back-pay up 
 to date. 
 
 "It's good we're not busy," said the foreman. 
 
 "Meanin' I'd quit all the same?" inquired Lin, 
 rapidly, flushing. 
 
 ' ' No — not meaning any offence. Catch up your 
 horse. I want to make the post before it gets 
 hot." 
 
 The foreman tad come down the river from the 
 ranch at Meadow Creek, and the post, his goal, 
 was Fort Washakie. All this part of the country 
 formed the Shoshone Indian Reservation, where, 
 by peiinission, pastured the herds whose owner 
 wotdd pay Lin his time at Washakie. So the 
 young cow-puncher flung on his saddle and 
 mounted. 
 
 "So-long!" he remarked t© the camp, by way 
 of farewell. He might never be going to see any 
 of them again; but the cow-punchers were not 
 demonstrative by habit. 
 
 "Groing to stop long at Washakie?" asked one. 
 
 "Alma is not waiter-girl at the hotel now," an- 
 other mentioned. 
 
 "If there's a new girl," said a third, "kiss her 
 one for me, and tell her I'm handsomer than you." 
 4 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "I ain't a deceiver of women," said Lin. 
 
 "That's why you'll tell her," replied his friend, 
 
 "Say, Lin, why are you quittin' us so sudden, 
 anyway?" asked the cook, grieved to lose him. 
 
 "I'm after some variety," said the boy. 
 
 "If you pick up more than you can use, just 
 can a little of it for me!" shouted the cook at the 
 departing McLean. 
 
 This was the last of camp by Bull Lake Cross- 
 ing, and in the foreman's company young Lin 
 now took the road for his accumulated dollars. 
 
 "So you're leaving your bedding and stuff with 
 the outfit ?" said the foreman. 
 
 "Brought my tooth-brush," said Lin, showing 
 it in the breast-pocket of his flannel shirt. 
 
 "Going to Denver?" 
 
 "Why, maybe." 
 
 "Take in San Francisco?" 
 
 "Sounds slick." 
 
 "Made any plans?" 
 
 "Gosh, no!" 
 
 "Don't want anything on your brain?" 
 
 "Nothin' except my hat, I guess," said Lin, 
 and broke into cheerful song: 
 
 " ' 'Twas a nasty baby anyhow, 
 
 And it only died to spite us; 
 'Twas afflicted with the cerebrow 
 Spinal meningitusl' " 
 
 They v/ound up out of the magic valley of 
 Wind River, through the bastioned gullies and 
 the gnome-like mystery of dry water-courses, up- 
 S 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ward and up to the level of the huge sage-brush 
 plain above. Behind lay the deep valley they 
 had climbed from, mighty, expanding, its trees 
 like bushes, its cattle like pebbles, its opposite 
 side towering also to the edge of this upper plain. 
 There it lay, another world. One step farther 
 away from its rim, and the two edges of the plain 
 had flowed together over it like a closing sea, 
 covering without a sign or ripple the great coun- 
 try which lay sunk beneath. 
 
 "A man might think he'd dreamed he'd saw 
 that place," said Lin to the foreman, and wheeled 
 his horse to the edge again. "She's sure there, 
 though," he added, gazing down. For a moment 
 his boy face grew thoughtfiil; "Shucks!" said 
 he then, abruptly, "where's any joy in money 
 that's comin' till it arrives? I have most forgot 
 the feel o' spot-cash." 
 
 He turned his horse a,way from the far-winding 
 vision of the river, and took a sharp jog after the 
 foreman, who had not been waiting for him. 
 Thus they crossed the eighteen miles of high 
 plain, and came down to Fort Washakie, in the 
 valley of Little Wind, before the day was hot. 
 
 His roll of wages once jammed in his pocket 
 like an old handkerchief, young Lin precipitated 
 himself out of the post-trader's store and away 
 on his horse up the stream among the Shoshone 
 tepees to an unexpected entertainment — a. wolf- 
 dance. He had meant to go and see what the 
 new waiter-girl at the hotel looked like, but put 
 this off promptly to attend the dance. This 
 6 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 hospitality the Shoshone Indians were extending 
 to some visiting Ute friends, and the neighbor- 
 hood was assembled to watch the ring of painted 
 naked savages. 
 
 The post-trader looked after the galloping Lin. 
 "What's he quitting his job for?" he asked the 
 foreman. 
 
 "Same as most of 'em quit." 
 
 "Nothing?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Been satisfactory?" 
 
 "Never had a boy more so. Good-hearted, 
 willing, a plumb dare-devil with a horse." 
 
 "And worthless," suggested the post-trader. 
 
 "Well — ^not yet. He's headed that way." 
 
 "Been punching cattle long?" 
 
 "Came in the country about seventy-eight, I 
 believe, and rode for the Bordeaux Outfit most a 
 year, and quit. Blew in at Cheyenne till he went 
 broke, and worked over on to the Platte. Rode 
 for the C. Y. Outfit most a year, and quit. Blew 
 in at Buffalo. Rode for Balaam awhile on Butte 
 Creek. Broke his leg. Went to the Drybone 
 Hospital, and when the fracture was commenc- 
 ing to knit pretty good he broke it again at the 
 hog-ranch across the bridge. Next time you're in 
 Cheyenne get Dr. Barker to tell you about that. 
 McLean drifted to Green River last year and 
 ■went up over on to Snake, and up Snake, and 
 was around with a prospecting outfit on Galena 
 Creek by Pitchstone Canon. Seems he got inter- 
 ested in some Dutchwoman up there, but she 
 7 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 had trouble — died, I think they said — and he came 
 down by Meteetsee to Wind River. He's liable 
 to go to Mexico or Africa next." 
 
 "If you need him," said the post-trader, closing 
 his ledger, "you can offer him five more a month." 
 
 "That'll not hold him." 
 
 "Well, let him go. Have a cigar. The bishop 
 is expected for Sunday, and I've got to see his 
 room is fixed up for him." 
 
 "The bishop!" said the foreman. "I've heard 
 him highly spoken of." 
 
 "You can hear him preach to-morrow. The 
 bishop is a good man." 
 
 "He's better than that; he's a man," stated 
 the foreman — "at least, so they tell me." 
 
 Now, saving an Indian dance, scarce any possir 
 ble event at the Shoshone agency could assemble 
 in one spot so many sorts of inhabitants as a 
 visit from this bishop. Inhabitants of foiir colors 
 gathered to view the wolf -dance this afternoon — 
 red men, white men, black men, yellow men. 
 Next day, three sorts came to church at the. 
 agency. The Chinese laundry was absent. But 
 because, indeed (as the foreman said) , the bishop 
 was not only a good man but a man, Wyoming 
 held him in respect and went to look at him. 
 He stood in the agency church and held the 
 Episcopal service this Sunday morning for some 
 brightly glittering army officers and their fam- 
 ilies, some white cavalry, and some black infan- 
 try; the agency doctor, the post-trader, his fore- 
 man, the government scout, three gamblers, the 
 8 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ■waiter-girl from the hotel, the stage-driver, who 
 was there because she was; old Chief Washakie, 
 white-haired and royal in blankets, with two 
 royal Utes splendid beside him; one benchful of 
 squatting Indian children, silent and marvelling; 
 and, on the back bench, the commanding officer's 
 new hired girl, and, beside her, Lin McLean. 
 
 Mr. McLean's hours were already various and 
 successful. Even at the wolf-dance, before he 
 had wearied of its monotonous drumming and 
 pageant, his roving eye had rested upon a girl 
 whose eyes he caught resting upon him. A look, 
 an approach, a word, and each was soon content 
 with the other. Then, when her duties called her 
 to the post from him and the stream's border, 
 with a promise for next day he sought the hotel 
 and found the three gamblers anxious to make 
 his acquaintance; for when a cow-puncher has 
 his pay many people will take an interest in him. 
 The three gamblers did not know that Mr. Mc- 
 Lean could play cards. He left them late in the 
 evening fat with their money, and sought the 
 tepees of the Arapahoes. They Uved across the 
 road from the Shoshones, and among their tents 
 the boy remained until morning. He was here 
 in church now, keeping his promise to see the 
 bishop with the girl of yesterday; and while he 
 gravely looked at the bishop, Miss Sabina Stone 
 allowed his arm to encircle her waist. No soldier 
 had achieved this yet, but Lin was the first cow- 
 puncher she had seen, and he had given her the 
 handkerchief from round his neck. 
 9 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 The quiet air blew in through the windows and 
 door, the pure, light breath from the mountains; 
 only, passing over their foot-hills it had caught and 
 carried the clear aroma of the sage-brush. This 
 it brought into church, and with this seemed also 
 to float the peace and great silence of the plains. 
 The little melodeon in the corner, played by one 
 of the ladies at the post, had finished accompany- 
 ing the hymn, and now it prolonged a few clos- 
 ing chords while the bishop paused before his ad- 
 dress, resting his keen eyes on the people. He 
 was dressed in a plain suit of black with a narrow 
 black tie. This was because the Union Pacific 
 Railroad, while it had delivered him correctly at 
 Green River, had despatched his robes towards 
 Cheyenne. 
 
 Without citing chapter and verse the bishop 
 began: 
 
 "And he arose, and came to his father. But 
 when he was yet a great way off, his father saw 
 him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his 
 neck and kissed him." 
 
 The bishop told the story of that surpassing 
 parable, and then proceeded to draw from it a 
 discourse fitted to the drifting destinies in whose 
 presence he found himself for one solitary morn- 
 ing. He spoke unlike many clergymen. His 
 words were chiefly those which the people round 
 him used, and his voice was more like earnest 
 talking than preaching. 
 
 Miss Sabina Stone felt the arm of her cow- 
 puncher loosen slightly, and she looked at him. 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 But he was looking at the bishop, no longer 
 gravely but with wide-open eyes, alert. When 
 the narrative reached the elder brother in the 
 field, and how he came to the house and heard 
 sounds of music and dancing, Miss Stone drew 
 away from her companion and let him watch the 
 bishop, since he seemed to prefer that. She took 
 to reading hymns vindictively. The bishop him- 
 self noted the sun-browned boy face and the 
 wide-open eyes. He was too far away to see any- 
 thing but the alert, listening position of the 
 young cow-puncher. He could not discern how 
 that, after he had left the music and dancing and 
 begun to draw morals, attention faded from 
 those eyes that seemed to watch him, and they 
 filled with dreaminess. It was very hot in church. 
 Chief Washakie went to sleep, and so did a cor- 
 poral ; but Lin McLean sat in the same alert posi- 
 tion till Miss Stone pulled him and asked if he 
 intended to sit down through the hymn. Then 
 church was out. Officers, Indians, and all the 
 people dispersed through the great sunshine to 
 their dwellings, and the cow-puncher rode beside 
 Sabina in silence. 
 
 "What are you studying over, Mr. McLean?" 
 inquired the lady, after a hundred yards. 
 
 "Did you ever taste steamed Duxbury clams ?" 
 asked Lin, absently. 
 
 "No, indeed. What's them?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, just clams. Yu' have drawn butter, too. " 
 Mr. McLean fell silent again. 
 
 "I guess I'll be late for settin' the colonel's 
 II 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 table. Good-bye," said Sabina, quickly, and 
 swished her whip across the pony, who scampered 
 away with her along the straight road across the 
 plain to the post. 
 
 Lin caught up with her at once and made his 
 peace. 
 
 "Only," protested Sabina, "I ain't vsed to 
 gentlemen taking me out and — ^well, same as if I 
 was a collie-dog. Maybe it's Wind River polite- 
 ness." 
 
 But she went riding with him up Trout Creek 
 in the cool of the afternoon. Out of the Indian 
 tepees, scattered wide among the flat levels of 
 sage-brush, smoke rose thin and gentle, and van- 
 ished. They splashed across the many Uttle run- 
 ning channels which lead water through that 
 thirsty soil, and though the range of mountains 
 came no nearer, behind them the post, with its 
 white, fiat buildings and green trees, dwindled to 
 a toy village. 
 
 "My! but it's far to everywheres here," ex- 
 claimed Sabina, "and it's little you're sayin' for 
 yourself to-day, Mr. McLean. I'll have to do the 
 talking. What's that thing now, where the rocks 
 are?" 
 
 "That's Little Wind River Canon," said the 
 young man. "Feel like goin' there. Miss Stone ?" 
 
 "Why, yes. It looks real nice and shady like, 
 don't it? Let's." 
 
 So Miss Stone turned her pony in that direc- 
 tion. 
 
 "When do your folks eat supper ?" inquired Lin. 
 
 12 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ' ' Half -past six. Oh, we've lots of time ! Come 
 on." 
 
 "How many miles per hour do you figure that 
 iayuse of yourn can travel.'"' Lin asked. 
 
 "What are you a -talking about, an5rway? 
 You're that strange to-day," said the lady. 
 
 "Only if we try to make that canon, I guess 
 you'll be late settin' the colonel's table," Lin re- 
 marked, his hazel eyes smiUng upon her. "That 
 is, if your horse ain't good for twenty miles an 
 hour. Mine ain't, I know. But I'll do my best 
 to stay with yu'." 
 
 "You're the teasingest man — " said Miss Stone, 
 pouting. "I might have knowed it was ever so 
 much further nor it looked." 
 
 "Well, I ain't sa3dn' I don't want to go, if yu' 
 was desirous of campin' out to-night." 
 
 "Mr. McLean! Indeed, and I'd do no such 
 thing!" and Sabina giggled. 
 
 A sage-hen rose under their horses' feet, and 
 hurtled away heavily over the next rise of ground, 
 taking a final wide sail out of sight. 
 
 "Something like them partridges used to," said 
 Lin, musingly. 
 
 "Partridges.'"' inqtiired Sabina. 
 
 "Used to be in the woods between Lynn and 
 Salem. Maybe the woods are gone by this time. 
 Yes, they must be gone, I guess." 
 
 Presently they dismounted and sought the 
 stream bank. 
 
 "We had music and dancing at Thanksgiv- 
 ing and such times," said Lin, his wiry length 
 13 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 stretched on the grass beside the seated Sabina 
 He was not looking at her, but she took a pleasure 
 in watching him, his curly head and bronze face, 
 against which the young mustache showed to its 
 full advantage. 
 
 "I expect you used to dance a lot," remarked 
 Sabina, for a subject. 
 
 "Yes. Do yu' know the Portland Fancy?" 
 
 Sabina did not, and her subject died away. 
 
 "Did anybody ever tell you you had good 
 eyes?" she inquired next. 
 
 "Why, sure," said Lin, waking for a moment; 
 "but I like your color best. A girl's eyes will 
 mostly beat a man's." 
 
 "Indeed, I don't think so!" pxclaimed poor 
 Sabina, too much expectant to perceive the fatal 
 note of routine with which her transient admirer 
 pronounced this gallantry. He informed her that 
 hers were like the sea, and she told him she had 
 not yet looked upon the sea. 
 
 "Never ?" said he. "It's a turruble pity you've 
 never saw salt water. It's different from fresh. 
 All around home it's blue — awful blue in July — 
 around Swampscott and Marblehead and Nahant, 
 and around the islands. I've swam there lots. 
 Then our home bruck up and we went to board 
 in Boston." He snapped off a flower in reach of 
 his long arm. Suddenly all dreaminess left him. 
 
 "I wonder if you'll be settin' the colonel's table 
 when I come back?" he said. 
 
 Miss Stone was at a loss. 
 
 "I'm goin' East to-morrow — East, to Boston." 
 14 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Yesterday he had told her that sixteen miles to 
 Lander was the farthest journey from the post 
 that he intended to make — the farthest from the 
 post and her. 
 
 " I hope nothing 'ain't happened to your folks?" 
 said she. 
 
 "I ain't got no folks," replied Lin, "barring a 
 brother. I expect he is taking good care of him- 
 self." 
 
 "Don't you correspond?" 
 
 "Well, I guess he would if there was anything 
 to say. There 'ain't been nothin'." 
 
 Sabina thought they must have quarrelled, but 
 learned that they had not. It was time for her 
 now to return and set the colonel's table, so Lin 
 rose and went to bring her horse. When he had 
 put her in her saddle, she noticed him step to his 
 own. 
 
 "Why, I didn't know you were lame!" cried 
 she. 
 
 "Shucks!" said Lin. "It don't cramp my 
 style any." He had sprung on his horse, ridden 
 beside her, leaned and kissed her before she got 
 any measure of his activity. 
 
 "That's how," said he; and they took their 
 homeward way, galloping. "No," Lin continued, 
 " Frank and me never quarrelled. I just thought 
 I'd have a look at this Western country. Frank, 
 he thought dry-goods was good enough for him, 
 and so we're both satisfied, I expect. And that's 
 a lot of years now. Whoop ya!" he suddenly 
 sang out, and fired his six-shooter at a jack-rab- 
 
LIN McLbAN 
 
 bit, who strung liimself out flat and flew over the 
 earth. 
 
 Both dismounted at the parade-ground gate, 
 and he kissed her again when she was not looking, 
 upon which she very properly slapped him; and 
 he took the horses to the stable. He sat down to 
 tea at the hotel, and found the meal consisted of 
 black potatoes, gray tea, and a guttering dish of 
 fat pork. But his appetite was good, and he re- 
 marked to himself that inside the first hour he 
 was in Boston he would have steamed Duxbury 
 clams. Of Sabina he never thought again, and 
 it is likely that she found others to take his place. 
 Fort Washakie was one hundred and fifty miles 
 from the railway, and men there were many and 
 girls were few. 
 
n 
 
 HOW LIN WENT EAST 
 
 The next morning the other passengers entered 
 the stage with resignation, knowing the thirty-six 
 hours of evil that lay before them. Lin climbed 
 up beside the driver. He had a new trunk now. 
 
 "Don't get full, Lin," said the clerk, putting the 
 mail-sacks in at the store. 
 
 "My plans ain't settled that far yet," replied 
 Mr. McLean. 
 
 "Leave it out of them," said the voice of the 
 bishop, laughing, inside the stage. 
 
 It was cool, fine air. Gazing over the huge 
 plain down in which lies Fort Washakie, Lin 
 heard the faint notes of a trumpet on the parade- 
 ground, and took a good-bye look at all things. 
 He watched the American flag grow small, saw 
 the circle of steam rising away down by the hot 
 springs, looked at the bad lands beyond, chemi- 
 cally pink and rose amid the vast, natural, quiet- 
 colored plain. Across the spreading distance Ind- 
 ians trotted at wide spaces, generally two large 
 bucks on one small pony, or a squaw and pap- 
 poose — a bundle of parti-colored rags. Presiding 
 over the whole rose the mountains to the west. 
 3 17 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 serene, lifting into the clearest light. Then once 
 again came the now tiny music of the trumpet. 
 
 "When do yu' figure on comin' back?" inquired 
 the driver. ^ 
 
 "Oh, I'll just look around back there for a 
 spell," said Lin. '.'About a month, I guess." 
 
 He had seven hundred dollars. At Lander the 
 horses are changed; and during this operation 
 Lin's friends gathered and said, where was any 
 sense in going to Boston when you could have a 
 good time where you were? But Lin remained 
 sitting safe on the stage. Toward evening, at 
 the bottom of a little dry gulch some eight feet 
 deep, the horses decided it was a suitable place to 
 stay. It was the bishop who persuaded them to 
 change their minds. He told the driver to give 
 up beating, and unharness. Then they were led 
 up the bank, quivering, and a broken trace was 
 spliced with rope. Then the stage was forced on 
 to the level ground, the bishop proving a strong 
 man, familiar with the gear of vehicles. They 
 crossed through the pass among the quaking 
 asps and the pines, and, reaching Pacific Springs, 
 came down again into open country. That after- 
 noon the stage put its passengers down on the 
 railroad platform at Green River; this was the 
 route in those days before the mid-winter catas- 
 trophes of frozen passengers led to its abandon- 
 ment.' The bishop was going west. His robes 
 
 ' Since this was written, fifteen years ago, a railway 
 has come to Lander, and the old stage route is no more. 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 had passed him on the up stage during the night. 
 When the reverend gentleman heard this he was 
 silent for a very short moment, and then laughed 
 vigorously in the baggage-room. 
 
 "I can understand how you swear sometimes," 
 he said to Lin McLean; "but I can't, you see. 
 Not even at this." 
 
 The cow-puncher was checking his own trunk 
 to Omaha. 
 
 "Good-bye and good luck to you," continued 
 the bishop, giving his hand to Lin. "And look 
 here — don't you think you might leave that ' get- 
 ting full ' out of your plans ?" 
 
 Lin gave a slightly shamefaced grin. "I don't 
 guess I can, sir," he said. "I'm givin' joi' straight 
 goods, ya' see," he added. 
 
 "That's right. But you look like a man who 
 could stop when he'd had enough. Try that. 
 You're man enough — and come and see me when- 
 ever we're in the same place." 
 
 He went to the hotel. There were several hours 
 for Lin to wait. He walked up and down the 
 platform till the stars came out and the bright 
 lights of the town shone in the saloon windows. 
 Over across the way piano-music sounded through 
 one of the many open doors. 
 
 "Wonder if the professor's there yet?" said Lin, 
 and he went across the railroad tracks. The bar- 
 tender nodded to him as he passed through into 
 the back room. In that place were many tables, 
 and the flat clicking and rattle of ivory count- 
 ers sounded pleasantly through the music. Lin 
 19 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 did not join the stud-poker game. He stood over 
 a table at which sat a dealer and a player, very 
 silent, opposite each other, and whereon were 
 painted sundry cards, numerals, and the colors 
 red and black in squares. The legend "Jacks 
 pay " was also clearly painted. The player placed 
 chips on whichever insignia of fortune he chose, 
 and the dealer slid cards (quite fairly) from the 
 top of a pack that lay^held within a skeleton case 
 made with some clamped bands of tin. Some- 
 times the player's pile of chips rose high, and 
 sometimes his sumptuous pillar of gold pieces 
 was lessened by one. It was very interesting and 
 pretty to see; Lin had much better have joined 
 the game of stud-poker. Presently the eye of 
 the dealer met the eye of the player. After that 
 slight incident the player's chip pile began to 
 rise, and rose steadily, till the dealer made admir- 
 ing comments on such a run of luck. Then the 
 player stopped, cashed in, and said good-night, 
 having nearly doubled the number of his gold pieces. 
 
 "Five dollars' worth," said Lin, sitting down 
 in the vacant seat. The chips were counted out 
 to him. He played with unimportant shiftings 
 of fortune until a short while before his train 
 was due, and then, singularly enough, he discov- 
 ered he was one hundred and fifty dollars behind 
 the game. 
 
 "I guess I'll leave the train go without me," 
 said Lin, buying five dollars' worth more of ivory 
 counters. So that tram came and went, remov- 
 ing eastward Mr. McLean's trunk. 
 20 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 During the hour that followed his voice grew 
 dogged and his remarks briefer, as he continually 
 purchased more chips from the now surprised 
 and S3mipathetic dealer. It was really wonder- 
 ful how steadily Lin lost — just as steadily as his 
 predecessor had won after that meeting of eyes 
 early in the evening. 
 
 When Lin was three hundred dollars out, his 
 voice began to clear of its huskiness and a slight 
 humor revolved and sparkled in his eye. When 
 his seven hundred dollars had gone to safer hands 
 and he had nothing left at all but some silver 
 fractions of a dollar, his robust cheerfulness was 
 all back again. He walked out and stood among 
 the railroad tracks with his hands in his pockets, 
 and laughed at himself in the dark. Then his 
 fingers came on the check for Omaha, and he 
 laughed loudly. The trunk by this hour must be 
 nearing Rawlins; it was going east anyhow. 
 
 "I'm following it, you bet," he declared, kicking 
 the rail. "Not yet though. Nor I'll not go to 
 Washakie to have 'em josh me. And yonder lays 
 Boston." He stretched his arm and pointed east- 
 ward. Had he seen another man going on in 
 this fashion alone in the dark, among side-tracked 
 freight cars, he would have pitied the poor fool. 
 "And I guess Boston '11 have to get along with- 
 out me for a spell, too," continued Lin. "A man 
 don't want to show up plumb broke like that 
 younger son did after eatin' with the hogs the 
 bishop told about. His father was a jim-dandy, 
 that hog chap's. Hustled round and set 'em up 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 when he came back home. Frank, he'd say to 
 me 'How do you do, brother?' and he'd be wearin' 
 a good smt o' clothes and — no, sir, you bet!" 
 
 Lin now watched the great headUght of a 
 freight train bearing slowly down into Green 
 River from the wilderness. Green River is the 
 end of a division, an epoch in every train's jour- 
 ney. Lanterns swung signals, the great dim 
 thing slowed to its standstill by the coal chute, 
 its locomotive moved away for a turn of repose, 
 the successor backed steaming to its place to 
 tackle a night's work. Cars were shifted, heavily 
 bumping and parting. 
 
 "Hello, Lin!" A face was looking from the 
 window of the caboose. 
 
 "Hello!" responded Mr. McLean, perceiving 
 above his head Honey Wiggin, a good friend of 
 his. They had not met for three years. 
 
 "They claimed you got killed somewheres. I 
 was sorry to hear it." Honey offered his con- 
 dolence quite sincerely. 
 
 "Bruck my leg," corrected Lin, "if that's what 
 they meant." 
 
 "I expect that's it," said Honey. "You've had 
 no other trouble?" 
 
 "Been boomin'," said Lin. 
 
 Prom the mere undertone in their voices it was 
 plain they were good friends, carefully hiding 
 their pleasure at meeting. 
 
 "Wher're jni' bound?" inquired Honey. 
 
 "East," said Lin. 
 
 " Better jump in here, then. We're goin' west." 
 
 22 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "That just suits me," said Lin. 
 
 The busy lanterns wagged among the switches, 
 the steady lights of the saloons shone along the 
 town's wooden f agade. From the bluffs that wall 
 Green River the sweet, clean, sage-brush wind 
 blew down in currents freshly through the coal- 
 smoke. A wrench passed through the train from 
 locomotive to caboose, each fettered car in turn 
 strained into motion and slowly rolled over the 
 bridge and into silence from the steam and the 
 bells of the railroad yard. Through the open 
 windows of the caboose great dull-red cinders 
 rattled in, and the whistles of distant Union 
 Pacific locomotives sounded over the open plains 
 ominous and long, like ships at sea. 
 
 Honey and Lin sat for a while, making few 
 observations and far between, as their way is be- 
 tween whom flows a stream of old-time under- 
 standing. Mutual whiskey and silence can ex- 
 press much friendship, and eloquently. 
 
 "What are yu' doing at present?" Lin in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Prospectin'." 
 
 Now prospecting means hunting gold, except 
 to such spirits as the boy Lin. To these it 
 means finding gold. So Lin McLean listened 
 to the talk of his friend Honey Wiggin as the 
 caboose trundled through the night. He saw 
 himself in a vision of the near future enter a 
 bank and thump down a bag of gold-dust. Then 
 he saw the new, clean money the man would 
 hand him in exchange, bills with round zeroes 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 half covered by being folded over, and heavy, 
 satisfactory gold pieces. And then he saw the 
 blue water that twinkles beneath Boston. His 
 fingers came again on his trunk check. He had 
 his ticket, too. And as dawn now revealed the 
 gray country to him, his eye fell casually upon a 
 mile-post: "Omaha, 876." He began to watch 
 for them: — 877, 878. But the trunk would really 
 get to Omaha. 
 
 "What are yu' laughin' about?" asked Honey. 
 
 "Oh, the wheels." 
 
 "Wheels?" 
 
 "Don't yu' hear 'em?" said Lin. "'Variety,' 
 they keep a-sayin'. 'Variety, variety.'" 
 
 "Huh!" said Honey, with scorn. " ' Ker-chunk- 
 a-chunk' 's all I make it." 
 
 "You're no poet," observed Mr. McLean. 
 
 As the train moved into Evanston in the sun- 
 Ught, a gleam of dismay shot over Lin's face, 
 and he ducked his head out of sight of the win- 
 dow, but immediately raised it again. Then he 
 leaned out, waving his arm with a certain defiant 
 vigor. But the bishop on the platform failed to 
 notice this performance, though it was done for 
 his sole benefit, nor would Lin explain to the in- 
 qttisitive Wiggin what the matter was. There- 
 fore, very naturally. Honey drew a conclusion for 
 himself, looked quickly out of the window, and, 
 being disappointed in what he expected to see, 
 remarked, sulkily, "Do yu' figure I care what 
 sort of a lookin' girl is stuck on yu' in Evans- 
 ton?" And upon this young Lin laughed so 
 24. 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 loudly that his friend told him he had never seen 
 a man get so foolish in three years. 
 
 By-and-by they were in Utah, and, in the com- 
 pany of Ogden friends, forgot prospecting. Later 
 they restimed freight trains and journeyed north. 
 In Idaho they said good-bye to the train hands in 
 the caboose, and came to Little Camas, and so 
 among the mountains near Feather Creek. Here 
 the berries were of several sorts, and growing 
 riper each day; and the bears in the timber 
 above knew this, and came down punctually 
 with the season, making variety in the otherwise 
 even life of the prospectors. It was now August, 
 and Lin sat on a wet hill making mud-pies for 
 sixty days. But the philosopher's stone was not 
 in the wash at that placer, nor did Lin gather 
 gold-dust suflScient to cover the nail of his thumb. 
 Then they heard of an excitement at Obo, Nevada, 
 and, hurrying to Obo, they made some more mud- 
 pies. 
 
 Now and then, eating their fat bacon at noon, 
 Honey would say, "Lin, wher're yu' goin'?" 
 
 And Lin always replied, "East." This became 
 a signal for drinks. 
 
 For beauty and promise, Nevada is a name 
 among names. Nevada! Pronounce the word 
 aloud. Does it not evoke mountains and clear 
 air, heights of untrodden snow and valleys aro- 
 matic with the pine and musical with falling wa- 
 ters? Nevada! But the name is all. Abomina- 
 tion of desolation presides over nine-tenths of the 
 place. The sun beats down as on a roof of zinc, 
 
 25 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 fierce and dull. Not a drop of water to a mile of 
 sand. The mean ash-dump landscape stretches 
 on from nowhere to nowhere, a spot of mange. 
 No portion of the earth is more lacquered with 
 paltry, unimportant ugliness. 
 
 There is gold in Nevada, but Lin and Honey 
 did not find it. Prospecting of the sort they did, 
 besides proving unfruitful, is not comfortable. 
 Now and again, losing patience, Lin would leave 
 his work and stalk about and gaze down at the 
 scattered men who stooped or knelt in the water. 
 Passing each busy prospector, Lin would read 
 on every broad, upturned pair of overalls the 
 same label, "Levi Strauss, No. 2," with a picture 
 of two lusty horses hitched to one of these gar- 
 ments and vainly struggling to split them asun- 
 der. Lin remembered he was wearing a label 
 just like that, too, and when he considered all 
 things he laughed to himself. Then, having 
 stretched the ache out of his long legs, he would 
 return to his ditch. As autumn wore on, his feet 
 grew cold in the mushy gravel they were sunk 
 in. He beat off the sand that had stiffened on 
 his boots, and hated Obo, Nevada. But he held 
 himself ready to say "East" whenever he saw 
 Honey coming along with the bottle. The cold 
 weather put an end to this adventure. The 
 ditches froze and filled with snow, through which 
 the sordid gravel heaps showed in a dreary fash- 
 ion; so the two friends drifted southward. 
 
 Near the small new town of Mesa, Arizona, 
 they sat down again in the dirt. It was milder 
 26 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 here, and, when the sun shone, never quite froze. 
 But this part of Arizona is scarcely more grate- 
 ful to the eye than Nevada. Moreover, Lin and 
 Honey found no gold at all. Some men near 
 them found a little. Then in January, even 
 though the sun shone, it quite froze one day. 
 
 "We're seein' the country, anyway," said 
 Honey. 
 
 "Seein' hell," said Lin, "and there's more of it 
 above ground than I thought." 
 
 "What '11 we do?" Honey inqtiired. 
 
 "Have to walk for a job — a good-payin' job," 
 responded the hopeful cow-puncher. And he and 
 Honey went to town. 
 
m 
 
 HOME TO THE SAGE-BRUSH 
 
 Lin found a job in twenty-five minutes, becom- 
 ing assistant to the apothecary in Mesa. Estab- 
 Ushed at the drug-store, he made up the simpler 
 prescriptions. He had studied practical phar- 
 macy in Boston between the ages of thirteen and 
 fifteen, and, besides this qualification, the apothe- 
 cary had seen him when he first came into Mesa, 
 and liked him. Lin made no mistakes that he or 
 any one ever knew of; and, as the mild weather 
 began, he materially increased the apothecary's 
 business by persuading him to send East for a 
 soda-water fountain. The ladies of the town 
 clustered around this entertaining novelty, and 
 while sipping vanilla and lemon bought knick- 
 knacks. And the gentlemen of the town discov- 
 ered that whiskey with soda and strawberry syrup 
 was delicious, and produced just as competent 
 effects. A group of them were generally stand- 
 ing in the shop and shaking dice to decide who 
 should pay for the next, while Lin administered 
 to each glass the necessary ingredients. Thus 
 money began to come to him a little more stead- 
 28 
 
LIN M CLE AN 
 
 ily tlvan had been its wont, and he divided with 
 the penniless Honey. 
 
 But Honey found fortune quickly, too. Through 
 excellent card-playing he won a pinto from a small 
 Mexican horse-thief who came into town from the 
 South, and who cried bitterly when he delivered 
 up his pet pony to the new owner. The new 
 owner, being a man of the world and agile on his 
 feet, was only slightly stabbed that evening as he 
 walked to the dance-hall at the edge of the town. 
 The Mexican was buried on the next day but 
 one. 
 
 The pony stood thirteen two, and was as long 
 as a steamboat. He had white eyelashes, pink 
 nostrils, and one eye was bright blue. If you 
 spoke pleasantly to him, he rose instantly on his 
 hind-legs and tried to beat your face. He did not 
 look as if he could run, and that was what made 
 him so valuable. Honey travelled through the 
 country with him, and every gentleman who saw 
 the pinto and heard Honey became anxious to get 
 up a race. Lin always sent money for Wiggin to 
 place, and he soon opened a bank account, while 
 Honey, besides his racing-bridle, bought a silver- 
 inlaid one, a pair of forty-dollar spurs, and a beau- 
 tiful saddle richly stamped. Every day (when in 
 Mesa) Honey would step into the drug-store and 
 inquire, "Lin, wher're yu' goin'?" 
 
 But Lin never answered any more. He merely 
 came to the soda-water fountain with the whiskey. 
 The passing of days brought a choked season of 
 fine sand and hard blazing sky. Heat rose up 
 
 20 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 from the ground and hung heavily over maa and 
 beast. Many insects sat out in the sun rattling 
 with joy; the little tearing river grew clear from 
 the swollen mud, and shrank to a succession of 
 standing pools; and the fat, squatting cactus 
 bloomed everywhere into butter-colored flowers 
 big as tulips in the sand. There were artesian 
 wells in Mesa, and the water did not taste very 
 good; but if you drank from the standing pools 
 where the river had been, you repaired to the 
 drug-store almost immediately. A troop of wan- 
 dering players came dotting along the railroad, 
 and, reaching Mesa, played a brass-band up and 
 down the street, and announced the powerful 
 drama of "East Lynne." Then Mr. McLean 
 thought of the Lynn marshes that lie between 
 there and Chelsea, and of the sea that must look 
 so cool. He forgot them while following the pain- 
 ful fortunes of the Lady Isabel; but, going to bed 
 in the back part of the drug-store, he remembered 
 how he used to beat everybody swimming in the 
 salt water. 
 
 "I'm goin'," he said. Then he got up, and 
 striking the light, he inspected his bank account. 
 "I'm sure goin'," he repeated, blowing the light 
 out, "and I can buy the fatted calf myself, you 
 bet!" for he had often thought of the bishop's 
 story. "You bet!" he remarked once more in a 
 muffled voice, and was asleep in a minute. The 
 apothecary was sorry to have him go, and Honey 
 was deeply grieved. 
 
 "I'd pull out with yer," he said, "only I can do 
 30 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 business round Yuma and westward with the 
 pinto." 
 
 For three farewell days Lin and Honey roved 
 together in all sorts of places, where they were 
 welcome, and once more Lin rode a horse and 
 was in his native element. Then he travelled 
 to Deming, and so through Denver to Omaha, 
 where he was told that his trunk had been sold 
 for some months. Besides a suit of clothes for 
 town wear, it had contained a buffalo coat for his 
 brother — something scarce to see in these days. 
 
 "Frank '11 have to get along without it," he 
 observed, philosophically, and took the next 
 east-bound train. 
 
 If you journey in a Pullman from Mesa to 
 Omaha without a waistcoat, and with a silk hand- 
 kerchief knotted over the collar of your flannel 
 shirt instead of a tie, wearing, besides, tall, high- 
 heeled boots, a soft, gray hat with a splendid brim, 
 a few people will notice you, but not the major- 
 ity. New Mexico and Colorado are used to these 
 things. As Iowa, with its immense rolling grain, 
 encompasses you, people will stare a little more, 
 for you're getting near the East, where cow- 
 punchers are not understood. But in those days 
 the line of cleavage came sharp-drawn at Chicago. 
 West of there was still tolerably west, but east of 
 there was east indeed, and the Atlantic Ocean 
 was the next important stopping-place. In Lin's 
 new train, good gloves, patent-leathers, and si- 
 lence prevailed throughout the sleeping-car, which 
 was for Boston without change. Had not home 
 31 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 memories begun impetuously to flood his mind, 
 he would have felt himself conspicuous. Town 
 clothes and conventions had their due value with 
 him. But just now the boy's single-hearted 
 thoughts were far from any surroundings, and 
 he was murmuring to himself, "To-morrow, to- 
 morrow night!" 
 
 There were ladies in that blue plush car for 
 Boston who looked at Lin for thirty miles at a 
 stretch; and by the time Albany was reached the 
 next day one or two of them commented that he 
 was the most attractive-looking man they had 
 ever seen! Whereas, beyond his tallness, and 
 wide-open, jocular eyes, eyes that seemed those 
 of a not highly conscientious wild animal, there 
 was nothing remarkable about young Lin except 
 stage effect. The conductor had been annoyed 
 to have such a passenger; but the cow-puncher 
 troubled no one, and was extremely silent. So 
 evidently was he a piece of the true frontier that 
 curious and hopeful fellow-passengers, after watch- 
 ing him with diversion, more than once took a 
 seat next to him. He met their chatty inquiries 
 with monosyllables so few and so unprofitable in 
 their quiet politeness that the passengers soon 
 gave him up. At Springfield he sent a telegram 
 to his bsother at the great dry-goods establish- 
 ment that employed him. 
 
 The train began its homestretch after Worces- 
 ter, and whirled and swung by hills and ponds 
 he began to watch for, and through stations with 
 old wayside names. These flashed on Lin's eye 
 32 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 as he sat with his hat off and his forehead against 
 the window, looking: Wellesley. Then, not long 
 after, Riverside. That was the Charles River, 
 and did the picnic woods used to be above the 
 bridge or below? West Newton; Newtonville; 
 Newton. "Faneuil's next," he said aloud in the 
 car, as the long-forgotten home-knowledge shone 
 forth in his recollection. The traveller seated 
 near said, "Beg pardon?" but, turning, wonder- 
 ed at the all-unconscious Lin, with his forehead 
 pressed against the glass. The blue water flashed 
 into sight, and soon after they were running in 
 the darkness between high walls; but the cow- 
 puncher never moved, though nothing could be 
 seen. When the porter announced "Boston," he 
 started up and followed like a sheep in the general 
 exodus. Down on the platform he moved along 
 with the slow crowd till some one touched him, 
 and, wheeling round, he seized both his brother's 
 hands and swore a good oath of joy. 
 
 There they stood — the long, brown fellow with 
 the silk handkerchief knotted over his flannel 
 shirt, greeting tremendously the spruce civilian, 
 who had a rope-colored mustache and bore a faint- 
 hearted resemblance to him. The story was plain 
 on its face to the passers-by ; and one of the ladies 
 who had come in the car with Lin turned twice, 
 and smiled gently to herself. 
 
 But Frank McLean's heart did not warm. He 
 
 felt that what he had been afraid of was true; and 
 
 he saw he was being made conspicuous. He saw 
 
 men and women stare in the station, and he saw 
 
 3 33 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ttieni staring as he and his Western brother went 
 through the streets. Lin strode along, sniffing 
 the air of Boston, looking at all things, and making 
 it a stretch for his sleek companion to keep step 
 with him. Frank thought of the refined friends 
 he should have to introduce his brother to; for 
 he had risen with his salary, and now belonged 
 to a small club where the paying-tellers of banks 
 played cards every night, and the head clerk at 
 the Parker House was president. Perhaps he 
 should not have to reveal the cow-puncher to 
 these shining ones. Perhaps the cow-puncher 
 would not stay very long. Of course he was glad 
 to see him again, and he would take him to dine 
 at some obscure place this first evening. But 
 this was not Lin's plan. Frank must dine with 
 him, at the Parker House. Frank demurred, say- 
 ing it was he that should be host. 
 
 "And," he added, "they charge up high for 
 wines at Parker's." Then for the twentieth time 
 he shifted a sidelong eye over his brother's 
 clothes. 
 
 "You're goin' to take your grub with me," said 
 Lin. "That's all right, I guess. And there ain't 
 any 'no' about it. Things is not the same like 
 as if father was livin' — (his voice softened) — and 
 here to see me come home. Now I'm good for 
 several dinners with wines charged up high, I 
 expect, nor it ain't nobody in this world, barrin' 
 just Lin McLean, that I've any need to ask for 
 anything. 'Mr. McLean,' says I to Lin, 'can yu' 
 spare me some cash?' 'Why, to be sure, you 
 34 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 bet!' And we'll start off with steamed Duxbury 
 clams." The cow-puncher slapped his pocket, 
 where the coin made a muffled chinking. Then he 
 said, gruffly,. " I suppose Swampscott's there yet ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Frank. "It's a dead little town, is 
 Swampscott." 
 
 "I guess I'll take a look at the old house to- 
 morrow," Lin pursued. 
 
 "Oh, that's been pulled down since — I forget 
 the year they improved that block." 
 
 Lin regarded in silence his brother, who was 
 speaking so jauntily of the first and last home 
 they had ever had. 
 
 "Seventy-nine is when it was," continued 
 Frank. "So you can save the trouble of travel- 
 ling away down to Swampscott." 
 
 "I guess I'll go to the graveyard, anyway," said 
 the cow-puncher in his offish voice, and looking 
 fixedly in front of him. 
 
 They came into Washington Street, and again 
 the elder McLean uneasily surveyed the younger's 
 appearance. 
 
 But the momentary chill had melted from the 
 heart of the genial Lin. "After to-morrow," said 
 he, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, "yu' 
 can start any lead 301' please, and I guess I can 
 stay with yu' pretty close, Frank." 
 
 Frank said nothing. He saw one of the mem- 
 bers of his club on the other side of the way, and 
 the member saw him, and Frank caught diverted 
 amazement on the member's face. Lin's hand 
 weighed on his shoulder, and the stress became 
 35 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 too great. "Lin," said he, "while you're running 
 with our crowd, you don't want to wear that style 
 of hat, you know." 
 
 It may be that such words can in some way be 
 spoken at such a time, but not in the way that 
 these were said. The frozen fact was irrevocably 
 revealed in the tone of Frank's voice. 
 
 The cow-puncher stopped dead short, and his 
 hand sUd off his brother's shoulder. "You've 
 made it plain," he said, evenly, slanting his steady 
 eyes down into Frank's. "You've explained your- 
 self fairly well. Run along with your crowd, and 
 I'll not bother jm' more with comin' round and 
 causin' yu' to feel ashamed. It's a heap better to 
 understand these things at once, and save mak- 
 ing a fool of yourself any longer 'n yu' need to. I 
 guess there ain't no more to be said, only one 
 thing. If yu' see me around on the street, don't 
 yu' try any talk, for I'd be liable to close your 
 jaw up, and maybe yu'd have more of a job ex- 
 plainin' that to your crowd than you've had mak- 
 in' me see what kind of a man I've got for a 
 brother." 
 
 Frank found himself standing alone before any 
 reply to these sentences had occurred to him. 
 He walked slowly to his club, where a friend joked 
 him on his glumness. 
 
 Lin made a sore failure cif amusing himself that 
 night; and in the bright, hot morning he got into 
 the train for Swampscott. At the graveyard he 
 saw a woman lay a bunch of flowers on a mound 
 and kneel, weeping. 
 
 36 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "There ain't nobody to do that for this one," 
 thought the cow-puncher, and looked down at the 
 grave he had come to see, then absently gazed at 
 the woman. 
 
 She had stolen away from her daily life to come 
 here where her grief was shrined, and now her 
 heart found it hard to bid the lonely place good- 
 bye. So she lingered long, her thoughts sunk 
 deep in the motionless past. When she at last 
 looked up, she saw the tall, strange man re-enter 
 from the street among the .tombs, and deposit on 
 one of them an ungainly lump of flowers. They 
 were what Lin had been able hastily to buy in 
 Swampscott. He spread them gently as he had 
 noticed the woman do, but her act of kneeling 
 he did not imitate. He went away quickly. For 
 some hours he hung about the little town, aim- 
 lessly loitering, watching the salt water where he 
 used to swim. 
 
 " Yu' don't belong any more, Lin," he miserably 
 said at length, and took his way to Boston. 
 
 The next morning, determined to see the sights, 
 he was in New York, and drifted about to all places 
 night and day, till his money was mostly gone, 
 and nothing to show for it but a somewhat pleas- 
 ure-beaten face and a deep hatred of the crowded, 
 scrambling East. So he suddenly bought a ticket 
 for Green River, Wyoming, and escaped from the 
 city that seemed to numb his good humor. 
 
 When, after three days, the Missouri lay behind 
 him and his holiday, he stretched his legs and 
 took heart to see out of the window the signs of 
 37 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 approaching desolation. And when on the fourth 
 day civilization was utterly emptied out of the 
 world, he saw a bunch of cattle, and, galloping 
 among them, his spurred and booted kindred. 
 And his manner took on that alertness a horse 
 shows on turning into the home road. As the 
 stage took him toward Washakie, old friends 
 turned up every fifty miles or so, shambling out 
 of a cabin or a stable, and saying, in casual tones, 
 "Hello, Lin, where 've you been at?" 
 
 At Lander, there got into the stage another 
 old acquaintance, the Bishop of Wyoming. He 
 knew Lin at once, and held out his hand, and his 
 greeting was hearty. 
 
 " It took a week for my robes to catch up with 
 me," he said, laughing. Then, in a little while, 
 "How was the East?" 
 
 "First-rate," said Lin, not looking at him. He 
 was shy of the conversation's taking a moral turn. 
 But the bishop had no intention of reverting — at 
 any rate, just now — to their last talk at Green 
 River, and the advice he had then given. 
 
 "I trust your friends were all well?" he said. 
 
 "I guess they was healthy enough," said Lin. 
 
 "I suppose you found Boston much changed? 
 It's a beautiful city." 
 
 "Good enough town for them that likes it, I 
 expect," Lin replied. 
 
 The bishop was forming a notion of what the 
 matter must be, but he had no notion whatever 
 of what now revealed itself. . 
 
 "Mr. Bishop," the cow-puncher said, "how was 
 38 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 that about that fellow you told about that's in 
 the Bible somewheres? — ^he come home to his 
 folks, and they — ^well there was his father saw 
 him comin' — " He stopped, embarrassed. 
 
 Then the bishop remembered the wide-open 
 eyes, and how he had noticed them in the church 
 at the agency intently watching him. And, just 
 now, what were best to say he did not know. He 
 looked at the young man gravely. 
 
 "Have yu' got a Bible?" pursued Lin. "For, 
 excuse me, but I'd like yu' to read that onced." 
 
 So the bishop read, and Lin listened. And all 
 the while this good clergyman was perplexed how 
 to speak — or if indeed to speak at this time at all 
 — to the heart of the man beside him for whom 
 the parable had gone so sorely wrong. When the 
 reading was done, Lin had not taken his eyes from 
 the bishop's face. 
 
 "How long has that there been wrote?" he 
 asked. 
 
 He was told about how long. 
 
 "Mr. Bishop," said Lin, "I 'ain't got good 
 knowledge of the Bible, and I never figured it to 
 be a book much on to facts. And I tell you 
 I'm more plum beat about it's having that elder 
 brother, and him being angry, down in black and 
 white two thousand years ago, than — than if I'd 
 seen a man turn water into wine, for I'd have 
 knowed that ain't so. But the elder brother is 
 facts — dead-sure facts. And they knowed about 
 that, and put it down just the same as life two 
 thousand years ago!" 
 
 39 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Well," said the bishop, wisely ignoring the 
 challenge as to miracles, "I am a good twenty 
 years older than you, and all that time I've been 
 finding more facts in the Bible every day I have 
 lived." 
 
 Lin meditated. "I guess that could be," he 
 said. "Yes; after that yu've been a-readin', and 
 what I know for myself that I didn't know till 
 lately, I guess that could be." 
 
 Then the bishop talked with exceeding care, 
 nor did he ask uncomfortable things, or moralize 
 visibly. Thus he came to hear how it had fared 
 with Lin his friend, and Lin forgot altogether 
 about its being a parson he was delivering the 
 fulness of his heart to. "And come to think," he 
 concluded, "it weren't home I had went to back 
 East, layin' round them big cities, where a man 
 can't help but feel strange all the week. No, sir! 
 yu' can blow in a thousand dollars like I did in 
 New York, and it'll not give yu' any more home 
 feelin' than what cattle has put in a stock-yard. 
 Nor it wouldn't have in Boston neither. Now 
 this country here" (he waved his hand towards 
 the endless sage-brush), "seein' it onced more, I 
 know where my home is, and I wouldn't live no- 
 wheres else. Only I 'ain't got no father watching 
 for me to come up Wind River." 
 
 The cow-puncher stated this merely as a fact, 
 and without any note of self-pity. But the bish- 
 op's face grew very tender, and he looked away 
 from Lin. Knowing his man — ^for had he not 
 seen many of this kind in his desert diocese ? — he 
 40 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 forbore to make any text from that last sentence 
 the cow-puncher had spoken. Lin talked cheer- 
 fully on about what he should now do. The 
 round-up must be somewhere near Du Noir 
 Creek. He would join it this season, but next 
 he should work over to tne Powder River coun- 
 try. More business was over there, and better 
 chances for a man to take up some land and have 
 a ranch of his own. As they got out at Fort 
 Washakie, the bishop handed hira a small book, 
 in which he had turned several leaves down, care- 
 fully avoiding any page that related of miracles. 
 
 "You need not read it through, you know," he 
 said, smiling; "just read where I have marked, 
 and see if you don't find some more facts. Good- 
 bye — and always come and see me." 
 
 The next morning he watched Lin riding slow- 
 ly out of the post towards Wind River, leading a 
 single pack-horse. By-and-by the little moving^ 
 dot went over the ridge. And as the bishop 
 walked back into the parade-ground, thinking: 
 over the possibilities in that untrained manly 
 soul, he shook his head sorrowfully. 
 
THE NEW GIRL 
 
 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 
 that the thing had never come into my head until 
 just now, after both of us had talked and dined 
 our fill, and were torpid with satisfaction. 
 
 I had found Lin here at Riverside in the morn- 
 ing. At my horse's approach to the cabin, it 
 was he and not the postmaster who had come 
 precipitately 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 since yesterday!" 
 
 This was indeed all; and my hasty impressions 
 of shooting and a corpse gave way to mirth over 
 the child and his innocent grievance that he had 
 blurted out before I could get off my horse. 
 
 Since when, I inquired of him, had his own 
 company become such a shock to him? 
 
 "As to that," replied Mr. McLean, a thought 
 42 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ruffled, "when a man expects lonesomeness he 
 stands it hke he stands anything else, of course. 
 But when he has figured on finding company — 
 say — " he broke off (and vindictiveness sparkled 
 in his eye) — "when you're lucky enough to catch 
 yourself alone, why, I suppose ju' just take a 
 chair and chat to yourself for hours. — You've not 
 seen anything of Tommy.?" he pursued, with- 
 interest. 
 
 I had not ; and forthwith Lin poured out to me 
 the pent-up complaints and sociability with which 
 he was bursting. The foreman had sent him over 
 here with a sackful of letteio for the post, and to 
 bring back the week's mail for the ranch. A day 
 was gone now, and nothing for a man to do but 
 sit and sit. Tommy was overdue fifteen hours. 
 Well, you could have endured that, but the neigh- 
 bors had all locked their cabins and gone to Buf- 
 falo. It was circus week in Buffalo. Had I ever 
 considered the money there must be in the circus 
 business ? Tommy had taken the outgoing letters 
 early yesterday. Nobody had kept him waiting. 
 By all rules he should have been back again last 
 night. Maybe the stage was late 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 circus himself and taken the mail 
 with him. Tommy was no type of man for post- 
 master. Except drawing the allowance his moth- 
 er in the East gave him first of every month, he 
 had never shown punctuality, that Lin could 
 remember. Never had any second thoughts, and 
 43 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 awful few first ones. Told bigger lies than a smaH 
 man ought, also. 
 
 "Has successes, though," said I, wickedly. 
 
 "Huh!" went on Mr. McLean. "Successes! 
 One ice-cream-soda success. And she" — Lin's 
 still wounded raale pride made him plaintive — 
 "why, even that girl quit him, once she got the 
 chance to appreciate how insignificant he was 
 ■compared with the size of his words. No, sir. 
 Not one of 'em retains interest in Tommy." 
 
 Lin was unsaddling and looking after my 
 horse, just because he was glad to see me. Since 
 our first acquaintance, that memorable summer 
 ■of Pitchstone Canon when he had taken such 
 good care of me and such bad care of himself, I 
 had learned pretty well about horses and camp 
 craft in general. He was an entire boy then. 
 But he had been East since. East by a route of 
 his own discovering — and from his account of 
 that journey it had proved, I think, a sort of 
 spiritual experience. And then the years of our 
 friendship were beginning to roll up. Manhood 
 of the body he had always richly possessed; and 
 now, whenever we met after a season's absence 
 and spoke those invariable words which all old 
 friends upon this earth use to each other at 
 meeting — -"You haven't changed, you haven't 
 changed at all!" — I would wonder if manhood 
 had arrived in Lin's boy soul. And so to-day, 
 while he attended to my horse and explained the 
 nature of Tommy (a subject he dearly loved just 
 now) , I looked at him and took an intimate, supe- 
 44 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 rior pride in feeling how much more mature I was 
 than he, after all. 
 
 There's nothing like a sense of merit for mak- 
 ing one feel aggrieved, and on our return to the 
 cabin Mr, McLean pointed with disgust to some 
 firewood. ' 
 
 "Look at those sorrowful toothpicks," said he: 
 "Tommy's work." 
 
 So Lin, the excellent hearted, had angrily bus- 
 ied himself, and chopped a pile 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. It appeared the master of the 
 house had been sleeping in it the reverse way on 
 account of the slant. Thus had Lin cooked and 
 dined alone, supped alone, and sat over some old 
 newspapers until bed-time alone with his sense of 
 virtue. And now here it was long after breakfast, 
 and no Tonxmy yet. 
 
 "It's good 5Ti' come this forenoon," Lin said to 
 me. "I'd not have had the heart to get up an- 
 other dinner just for myself. Let's eat rich!" 
 
 Accordingly, we had richly eaten, Lin and I. 
 He had gone out among the sheds and caught 
 some eggs (that is how he spoke of it), we had 
 opened a number of things in cans, and I had 
 made my famous dish of evaporated apricots, in 
 which I managed to fling a suspicion of caramel 
 throughout the stew. 
 
 "Tommy '11 be hot about these," said Lin, joy- 
 fully, as we ate the eggs. "He don't mind what 
 ru' use of his canned goods — pickled salmon and 
 45 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 truck. He is hospitable all right enough till it 
 conies to an egg. Then he'll tell any lie. But 
 shucks! Yu' can read Tommy right through his 
 clothing. 'Make yourself at home, Lin,' says he, 
 yesterday. And he showed me his fresh milk and 
 his stuff. 'Here's a new ham,' says he; 'too bad 
 my damned hens 'ain't been la3dn'. The sons-o'- 
 guns have quit on me 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 may have 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 were always a luxury. But 
 I never forget those that day, and how Lin and I 
 enjoyed them thinking of Tommy. Perhaps man- 
 hood was not quite established in my own soul at 
 that time — and perhaps that is the reason why 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" — and one 
 didn't care! 
 
 Salmon, apricots, eggs, we dealt with them all 
 properly, and I had some cigars. 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, luxu- 
 rious silence of digestion. I got no answer, nat- 
 urally, from the torpid Lin, and then it occurred 
 to me that he would have asked me what I 
 thought, long before this, had he known. So, ob- 
 46 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 serving how comfortable he was, I began differ, 
 ently. 
 
 "What is the most important event that can 
 happen in this country?" said I. 
 
 Mr. McLean heard me where he lay along the 
 floor of the cabin on his back, dozing by the fire; 
 but his eyes remained closed. He waggled one 
 limp, open hand slightly at me, and torpor re- 
 sumed her dominion over him. 
 
 "I want to know what you consider the most 
 important event that can happen in this country," 
 said I, again, enunciating each word with slow 
 clearness. 
 
 The throat and lips of Mr. McLean moved, and 
 a sulky sound came forth that I recognized to be 
 meant for the word "War." Then he rolled over 
 so that 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 mean this country here, and 
 Bear Creek, and — ^well, the ranches southward for 
 fifty miles, say. Important to this section." 
 
 " Mosquitoes '11 be due in about three weeks," 
 said Lin. " Yu' might leave a 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 hke yu' merely figure on givin' me 
 yours." 
 
 "Very well," said L . "Very well, then." 
 47 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 I took up a copy of the Cheyenne Sun. It was 
 five weeks old, and I soon perceived that I had 
 read it three weeks ago; but I read it again for 
 some 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. "Oh yes. Yes, a railroad 
 certainly would." 
 
 "It's got to be money, anyhow," stated Lin, 
 thoroughly wakened. "Money in some shape." 
 
 "How little you understand the real wants of 
 the country!" 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- 
 witted with dinner and sleep." He closed his 
 eyes again and lay with a specious expression of 
 indifference. But that sort of thing is a solitary 
 entertainment, and palls. "Starved," he present- 
 ly muttered. "We are kind o' starved that way, 
 I'll admit. More dollars than girls to the square 
 mile. And to think of all of us nice, healthy, 
 young — ^bet yu' I know who she is!" he trium- 
 phantly cried. He had sat up and levelled a 
 finger at me with the throw - down jerk of a 
 marksman. "Sidney, Nebraska." 
 
 I nodded. This was not the lady's name — he 
 48 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 could not recall her name — ^but his geography of 
 her was accurate. 
 
 One day in February my friend, Mrs. Taylor, 
 over on Bear Creek, had received a letter — no 
 common event for her. Therefore, during sev- 
 eral days she had all callers read it just as natu- 
 rally as she had them all see 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 the drift of it, and there was 
 Mrs. Taylor by your side, eager to help you when 
 you stumbled. Miss Peck wrote that she was 
 overworked in Sidney, Nebraska, and needed a 
 holiday. When the weather grew warm she 
 should like to come to Bear Creek and be like 
 old times. "Like to come and be like old times" 
 filled Mrs. Taylor with sentiment and the cow- 
 punchers with expectation. But it is a long way 
 from February to warm weather on Bear Creek, 
 and even cow-punchers will forget about a new 
 girl if she does 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 Miss Molly Wood (the Bear Creek school- 
 mistress), I found her keeping in order the cabin 
 and the children of the Taylors, while they were 
 gone forty-five miles to the stage station to meet 
 their guest. 
 
 4 49 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 " Well," said Lin, judicially, " Miss Wood is a 
 lady." 
 
 "Yes," said I, with deep gravity. For I was 
 thinking of an occasion when Mr. 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 knowed better, I suppose. All the 
 same, there's lots and lots of girls do like gettin' 
 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, or I'll — I'll talk more 
 wickedness in worse language than ever yu've 
 heard me 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 all right." He ruminated 
 for a moment. "She has about sfcared all the 
 boys off, 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. "He was there yesterday after- 
 noon again. Ridden all the way over from Sunk 
 Creek. Didn't seem particularly frightened." 
 
 "Oh, well, nothin' alarms him — not even refine- 
 So 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ment," said Mr. McLean, with his grin. "And 
 she'll fool your Virginian like she done the bal- 
 ance of us. ■ You wait. Shucks! If all the girls 
 were that chilly, why, what would us poor punch- 
 ers 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 upon 
 a scene my eyes never tired of then, nor can my 
 memory now. Spring had passed over it with its 
 first, lightest steps. The pastured levels undu- 
 lated in emerald. Through the many-changing 
 sage, that just this moment of to-day was lilac, 
 shone greens scarce a week old in the dimples of 
 the foot-hills; and greens new-born beneath to- 
 day's sun melted among them. Around the doub- 
 lings of the creek in the willow thickets glimmered 
 skeined veils of yellow and delicate crimson. The 
 stream poured turbulently away from the snows 
 of the mountains behind us. It went winding in 
 many folds across the meadows into distance and 
 smallness, and so vanished round the great red 
 battlement of wall beyond. Upon this were fall- 
 ing the, deep hues of afternoon — ^violet, rose, and 
 saffron, swimming and meeting as if some prism 
 had dissolved and flowed over the turrets and 
 crevices of the sandstone. Far over there I saw 
 a dot move. 
 
 "At last!" said I. 
 
 Lin looked out of the window. "It's more than 
 Tommy," said he, at once; and his eyes made it 
 out before mine could. "It's a wagon. That's 
 SI 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Tommy's bald-faced horse alongside. He's fool- 
 ing to the finish," Lin severely commented, as if, 
 after all this delay, there should at least be a 
 homestretch. 
 
 Presently, however, a homestretch seemed like- 
 ly to occur. The bald-faced horse executed some 
 Mvely manoeuvres, and Tommy's voice reached 
 us faintly through the light spring air. He was 
 evidently howling the remarkable strain of yells 
 that the cow-punchers invented as the speech best 
 understood by cows — "Oi-ee, yah, whoop-yah- 
 ye-ee, oooo-oop, oop, oop-oop-oop-oop-yah-hee!" 
 But that gives you no idea of it. Alphabets are 
 worse than photographs. It is not the lungs of 
 every man that can produce these effects, nor even 
 from armies, eagles, or mules were such sounds 
 ever heard on earth. The cow-puncher invented 
 them. And when the last cow-puncher is laid to 
 rest (if that, alas! have not already befallen) the 
 yells will be forever gone. Singularly enough, the 
 cattle appeared to appreciate them. Tommy al- 
 ways did them very badly, and that was plain 
 even at this distance. Nor did he give us a home- 
 stretch, after all. The bald-faced horse made a 
 number of evolutions and returned beside the 
 wagon. 
 
 " Showin' off," remarked Lin. "Tommy's show- 
 in' off." Suspicion crossed his face, and then cer- 
 tainty. "Why, we might have knowed that!" he 
 exclaimed, in dudgeon. "It's her." He hasten- 
 ed outside for a better look, and I came to the door 
 myself. "That's what it is," said he. "It's the 
 52 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 girl. Oh yes. That's Taylor's buckskin pair he 
 traded Balaam for. She come by the stage all 
 right yesterday, yii' see, but she has been too 
 tired to travel, yu' see, or else, maybe, Taylor 
 wanted to rest his buckskins — they're four-year- 
 olds. Or else — anyway, they laid over last night 
 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 your postmaster!" 
 
 It was our postmaster, and this he had done, 
 quite as the virtuously indignant McLean sur- 
 mised. Had I taken the same interest in the new 
 girl, I suppose that I, too, should have felt virtu- 
 ously indignant. 
 
 Lin and I stood outside to receive the travellers. 
 As their cavalcade drew near, Mr. McLean grew 
 silent and watchful, his whole attention focused 
 upon the Taylors' vehicle. Its approack was 
 joyous. Its gear made a cheerful clanking, Tay- 
 lor cracked his whip and encouragingly chirruped 
 to his buckskins, and Tommy's apparatus jingled 
 musically. For Tommy wore upon himself and 
 his saddle all the things you can wear in the Wild 
 West. Except that his hair was not long, our 
 postmaster might have conducted a show and 
 minted gold by exhibiting his romantic person 
 before the eyes of princes. He began with a 
 black-and-yellow rattlesnake skin for a hat-band, 
 he continued with a fringed and beaded shirt 
 of buckskin, and concluded with large, tinkling 
 spurs. Of course, there were things between his 
 shirt and his heels, but all leather and deadly 
 " 53 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 weapons. He had also a riata, a cuerta, and tapa- 
 deros, and frequently employed these Spanish 
 names for the objects. I wish that I had not lost 
 Tommy's photograph in Rocky Mountain cos- 
 tume. You must understand that he was really 
 pretty, with blue eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a grace- 
 ful figure ; 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 present us to her friend from 
 Sidney, Nebraska; but Tommy on his horse un- 
 dertook the office before the wagon had well come 
 to a standstill. "Good friends of mine, and gen- 
 tlemen, both," said he to Miss Peck; and to us, 
 "A lady whose acquaintance will prove a treat to 
 our section." 
 
 We all bowed at each other beneath the florid 
 expanse of these recommendations, and I was 
 proceeding to murmur something about its being 
 a long journey and a fine day when Miss Peck cut 
 me short, gayly: 
 
 "Well," she exclaimed to Tommy, "I guess 
 I'm pretty near ready for them eggs you've spoke 
 so much about." 
 
 I have not often seen Mr. McLean lose his 
 presence of mind. He needed merely to exclaim, 
 "Why, Tommy, you told me your hens had not 
 been laying since Christmas!" and we could have 
 sat quiet and let Tommy try to find all the eggs 
 that he could. But the new girl was a sore em- 
 barrassment to the cow-puncher's wits. Poor Lin 
 54 
 
LiN McLEAM 
 
 stood by the wheels of the wagon. He looked up 
 at Miss Peck, he looked over at Tommy, his feat- 
 ures assumed a rueful expression, and he wretch- 
 edly blurted: 
 
 "Why, Tommy, I've been and eat 'em!" 
 
 "Well, if that ain't!" cried Miss Peck. She 
 stared with interest at Lin as he now assisted her 
 to descend. 
 
 "All?" faltered Tommy. " Not the four nests ?" 
 
 "I've had three meals, yu' know," Lin reminded 
 Jiim, deprecatingly. 
 
 "I helped him," said I. "Ten innocent, fresh 
 eggs. But we have left some ham. Forjdve us, 
 please." 
 
 "I declare!" said Miss Peck, abruptly, and rolled 
 her sluggish, inviting eyes 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 turn- 
 ed back to Lin McLean. "You carry that," said 
 she, and gave the pleased cow-puncher a hand 
 valise. 
 
 "I'll look after your things. Miss Peck!" called 
 Tommy, now springing down from his horse. 
 The egg tragedy had momentarily sturmed him. 
 
 "You'll attend to the mail first, Mr. Postmas- 
 ter!" said the lady, but favoring him with a look 
 from her large eyes. "There's plenty of gentle- 
 men here." With that her glance favored Lin. 
 She went into the cabin, he following her close, 
 with the Taylors and myself in the rear. "Well, 
 55 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 I guess I'm about collapsed!" said she, vigorously, 
 and sank upon one of Tonmiy's chairs. 
 
 The fragile article fell into sticks beneath her, 
 and Lin leaped to her assistance. He placed her 
 upon a firmer foundation. Mrs. Taylor brought 
 a basin and towel to bathe the dust from her face, 
 Mr. Taylor produced whiskey, and I found sugar 
 and hot water. Tommy would doubtless have 
 done something in the way of assistance or re- 
 storatives, but he was gone to the stable with the 
 horses. 
 
 "Shall I get your medicine from the valise, 
 deary?" inquired Mrs. Taylor. 
 
 "Not now," her visitor answered; and I won- 
 dered why she should take such a quick look at 
 me. 
 
 "We'll soon have yni' independent of medicine," 
 said Lin, gallantly. "Our climate and scenery 
 here has frequently raised the dead." 
 
 "You're a case, anjrway!" 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 with cheerful 
 talk. She steadily watched him — his face some- 
 times, sometimes his lounging, masculine figure. 
 While he thus devoted his attentions to her, Tay- 
 lor departed to help Tommy at the stable, and 
 good Mrs. Taylor, busy with supper for all of us 
 in the kitchen, expressed her joy at having her 
 old friend of childhood for a visit after so many 
 years. 
 
 S6 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 "Sickness has changed poor Katie some," said 
 she. ' "But I'm hoping she'll get b^ck her looks 
 on Bear Creek." 
 
 "She seems less feeble than I had understood," 
 I remarked. 
 
 "Yes, indeed! I do believe she's feeling strong- 
 er. She was that tired and down yesterday with 
 the long stage-ride, and it is so lonesome! But 
 Taylor and I heartened her up, and Tommy came 
 with the mail, and to-day she'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 was young girls in Dubuque, 
 for I left home when I married Taylor, and he 
 brought me to this country right soon; and it 
 'ain't been like Dubuque much, though if I had 
 it to do over again I'd do just the same, as Taylor 
 knows. Katie and me hasn't wrote even, not till 
 this February, for you always mean to and you 
 don't. Well, it '11 be like old times. Katie '11 be 
 most thirty-four, I expect. Yes. I was seven- 
 teen and she was sixteen the very month I was 
 married. Poor thing! She ought to have got 
 some 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 real scan- 
 dalous, getting drunk so folks didn't visit there 
 evenings scarcely at all. And so she quit home, 
 it seems, and got a position in the railroad eating- 
 house at Sidney, and now she has poor health 
 with feeding them big trains day and. night." 
 .57 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "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 poor waiter- 
 girls. You might hear it around the switches at 
 them division stations." 
 
 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 of dining-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 you sprang from your scarce- 
 halted car at the summons of a gong. You dis- 
 cerned by instinct the right direction, and, pass- 
 ing steadily through doorways, had taken, before 
 you knew it, one of some sixty chairs in a room 
 of tables and catsup bottles. Behind the chairs, 
 standing attention, a platoon of Amazons, thick- 
 wristed, pink-and-blue, began immediately a swift 
 chant. It hymned the total bill-of-f are at a blow. 
 In this inexpressible ceremony the name of every 
 dish went hurtling into the next, telescoped to 
 shapelessness. Moreover, if you stopped your 
 Amazon in the middle, it dislocated her, and she 
 merely went back and took a fresh start. The 
 chant was always the same, but you never learned 
 it. As soon as it began, your mind snapped shut 
 like the upper berth in a Pullman. You must 
 have uttered appropriate words — even a parrot 
 will — ^for next you were eating things — pie, ham, 
 hot cakes — as fast as you could. Twenty minutes 
 58 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ©f swallowing, and all aboard for Ogden, with your 
 pile-driven stomach dumb with amazement. The 
 Strasburg goose is not dieted with greater veloc- 
 ity, and "biscuit-shooter" is a grand word. Very 
 likely some Homer of the railroad yards first said 
 it — ^for what men upon the present earth so speak 
 with imagination's tongue as we Americans? 
 
 If Miss Peck had been a biscuit-shooter, I 
 could account readily for her conversation, her 
 equipped deportment, the maturity in her ound, 
 blue, marble eye. Her abrupt laugh, soe ething 
 beyond gay, was now sounding in response to 
 Mr. McLean's lively sallies, and I found him fan- 
 ning her into convalescence with his 1 at. She 
 herself made but few remarks, but allcwed the 
 cow-puncher to entertain her, merely exclaimii g 
 briefly now and then, "I declare!" and "If yoa 
 ain't!" Lin was most certainly engaging, if that 
 was the lady's meaning. His wide-open eyes 
 sparkled upon her, and he half closed them now 
 and then to look at her more effectively. I sup- 
 pose she was worth it to him. I have forgotten 
 to say that she was handsome in a large CaUf omia- 
 fruit style. They made a good-looking pair of 
 animals. But it was in the presence of Tommy 
 that Master Lin shone more energetically than 
 ever, and under such shining Tommy was trans- 
 parently restless. He tried, and failed, to bring 
 the conversation his way, and took to rearrang- 
 ing the mail and the furniture. 
 
 "Supper's ready," he said, at length. "Come 
 right in, Miss Peck; right in here. This is yovit 
 59 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 seat — ^this one, please. Now you can see my 
 fields out of the window." 
 
 "You sit here," said the biscuit-shooter to Lin; 
 and thus she was between them. "Them's ele- 
 gant ! ' ' she presently exclaimed to Tommy. ' ' Did 
 you cook 'em?" 
 
 I explained that the apricots were of my prep- 
 aration. 
 
 "Indeed!" said she, and returned to Tommy, 
 who had been telling her of his ranch, his pota- 
 toes, his horses. "And do you punch cattle, 
 too?" she inquired of him. 
 
 "Me?" said Tommy, slightingly; "gave it up 
 years ago ; too empty a life for me. I leave that 
 to such as like it. When a man owns his Own 
 property" — Tommy swept his hand at the whole 
 landscape — "he takes to more intellectual work." 
 
 "Lickin' postage-stamps," Mr. McLean sug- 
 gested, sourly. 
 
 "You lick them and I cancel them," answered 
 the postmaster; and it does not seem a powerful 
 rejoinder. But Miss Peck uttered her laugh. 
 
 "That's one on you," she told Lin. And 
 throughout this meal it was Tommy who had her 
 favor. She partook of his generous supplies; she. 
 listened to his romantic inventions, the trails he 
 had discovered, the bears he had slain; and after 
 supper it was with Tommy, and not with Lin, that 
 she went for a little walk. 
 
 "Katie was ever a tease," said Mrs. Taylor, of 
 her childhood friend, and Mr. Taylor observed 
 that there was always safety in numbers. "She'll 
 60 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 gei used to the ways of this country quicker than 
 ourt^ittle school-marm," said he. 
 
 Mr, McLean said very little, but read the newly 
 arrived papers. It was only when bedtime dis- 
 persed Ajs, the ladies in the cabin and the men 
 choosing various spots outside, that he became 
 talkative again for a while. We lay in the blank- 
 ets we had spread on some soft, dry sand m pref- 
 erence to the stable, where Taylor and Tommy 
 had gone. Under the contemplative 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' get to 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 go on. 
 
 "Ever notice," said he, "how the victims of 
 the whiskey and lyin' habit get 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 silenter 
 other men '11 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 I sank beyond his reach. 
 
V 
 
 THE WINNING OF THE BISCUIT-SHOOTEB 
 
 In the morning I left Riverside for Buffalo, and 
 there or thereabouts I remained for a number of 
 weeks. Miss Peck did not enter my thoughts, nor 
 did I meet any one to remind me of her, until one 
 day I stopped at the drug-store. It was not for 
 drugs, but gossip, that I went. In the daytime 
 there was no place like the apothecary's for meet- 
 ing men and hearing 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 was a great addition to 
 society. Reported to be more companionable 
 than the school-marm, Miss Molly Wood, who 
 had been raised too far east, and showed it. Ver- 
 mont, or some such dude place. Several had been 
 in town buying presents for Miss Katie Peck. 
 Tommy Postmaster had paid high for a necklace 
 of elk-tushes the government scout at McKinney 
 sold him. Too bad Miss Peck did not enjoy good 
 health. Shorty had been in only yesterday to get 
 her medicine again. Third bottle. Had I heard 
 the big joke on Lin McLean ? He had promised 
 62 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 her the skin of a big bear he knew the location 
 of, and Tommy got the bear. 
 
 Two days after this I joined one of the round- 
 up camps at sunset. They had been working 
 from Salt Creek to Bear Creek, and the Taylor 
 ranch was in visiting distance from them again, 
 after an interval of gathering and branding far 
 across the country. The Virginian, the gentle- 
 voiced Southerner, whom I had last seen lin-' 
 gering with Miss Wood, was in camp. Silent 
 three-quarters of the time, as was his way, he 
 sat gravely watching Lin McLean. That person 
 seemed silent also, as was not his way quite 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 with young pride. 
 
 "And yu' cert'nly take no comfort in your 
 food," his ingenious friend continued, 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 Vir- 
 ginian, "to waste away durin' the round-up. A 
 man owes his strength to them that hires it. If 
 he is paid to rope stock he ought to rope stock, 
 and not leave it dodge or pull away." 
 6.3 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "It's not many dodge my rope," boasted Lin, 
 imprudently. 
 
 "Why, they tell me as how that heifer of the 
 Sidney-Nebraska brand got plumb away from yu*, 
 and little Tommy had to chase afteh her." 
 
 Lin sat up angrily amid the laughter, but re- 
 clined again. "I'll improve," said he, "if yu' 
 learn me how yu' rope that Vermont stock so 
 handy. Has she promised to be your sister yet ?" 
 he added. 
 
 "Is that what they do?" inquired the Virgin- 
 ian, serenely. "I have never got related that 
 way. Why, that'll make Tommy yotir 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 victory is to him who throws 
 the adroitest stone. Mr. McLean was readier 
 witted than most, but the gentle, slow Virginian 
 could be a master when he chose. 
 
 "Tommy has been recountin' his wars up at 
 the Taylors'," he now told the camp. "He has 
 frequently campaigned with General CrookJ Gen- 
 eral Miles, and General Ruger, all at onced. He's 
 an exciting fighter, in conversation, and kep' us 
 all scared for mighty nigh an hour. Miss Peck 
 appeared interested in his statements." 
 
 "What was you doing at the Taylors' your- 
 self?" demanded Lin. 
 
 "Visitin' Miss Wood," answered the Virginian, 
 with entire ease. For he also knew when to em- 
 64 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ploy the plain truth as a bluff. "You'd ought to 
 write to Tommy's mother, Lin, and tell her what 
 a dare-devil her son is gettin' to be. She would 
 cut off his allowance and bring him home, and 
 you 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 to spend the night he 
 would go for company. In that direction we 
 started, therefore, without any mention of the 
 Taylors or Miss Peck. I was puzzled. Never 
 had I seen him thus disconcerted by woman. 
 With him woman had been a transient disturb- 
 ance. I had witnessed a series of flighty ro- 
 mances, where the cow-puncher had come, seen, 
 often conquered, and moved on. Nor had his 
 affairs been of the sort to teach a young man 
 respect. I am putting it rather mildly. 
 
 For the first part of our way this afternoon he 
 was moody, and after that began to speak with 
 appalling wisdom about life. Life, he said, was a 
 serious matter. Did I realize that ? A man was 
 liable to forget it. A man was liable to go sport- 
 ing and helling around till he waked up some day 
 and found all his best pleasures had become just 
 a business. No interest, no surprise, no novelty 
 left, and no cash in the bank. Shorty owed him 
 fifty dollars. Shorty would be able to pay that 
 after the round-up, and he, Lin, would get his 
 time and rustle altogether some five hundred 
 6s 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 dollars. Then there was his homestead claim on 
 Box Elder, and the surveyors were coming -in 
 this fall. No better location for a home in this 
 country than Box Elder. Wood, water, fine land. 
 All it needed was a house and ditches and biiild- 
 ings and fences, and to be planted with crops. 
 Such chances and considerations should sober a 
 man and make him careful what he did. "I'd 
 take in Cheyenne on our wedding-trip, and aftef 
 that I'd settle right down to improving Box El- 
 der," concluded Mr. McLean, suddenly. 
 
 His real intentions flashed upon me for the 
 first time. I had not remotely imagined such a 
 step. 
 
 "Marry her!" I screeched in dismay. "Marry 
 herr 
 
 I don't know which word was the worse to 
 emphasize at such a moment, but I emphasized 
 both, thoroughly. 
 
 "I didn't expect yu'd act that way," said the 
 lover. He dropped behind me fifty yards and 
 spoke no more. 
 
 Not at once did I beg his pardon for the bru- 
 taUty I had been surprised into. 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 which my friend had re- 
 plied, it seemed to me sullen, rather than deeply 
 angry or wounded — ^resentment at my opinion 
 not of her character so much as of his choice! 
 Then I began to be sorry for the fool, and schemed 
 for a while how to intervene. But have you ever 
 66 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 tried to intervene? I soon abandoned 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 I said." 
 
 "I'm thinkin' of pleasanter subjects," said he, 
 and slowed his own horse. 
 
 "Oh, look here!" I exclaimed. 
 
 "Well ?" said he. He allowed his horse to come 
 within about ten yards. 
 
 "Astonishment makes a man say anjrthing," I 
 proceeded. "And I'll say again you're too good 
 for her — and I'll say I don't generally believe in 
 the wife being older than the husband." 
 
 "What's two years?" said Lin. 
 
 I was near screeching out again, but saved 
 myself. He was not quite twenty-five, and I re- 
 membered Mrs. Taylor's unprejudiced computa- 
 tion of the biscuit-shooter's years. It is a lady's 
 prerogative, however, to estimate her own age. 
 
 "She had her twenty-seventh birthday last 
 month," said Lin, with sentiment, bringing his 
 horse entirely abreast of mine. "I promised her 
 a bear-skin." 
 
 "Yes," said I, "I heard about that in Buffalo." 
 
 Lin's face grew dusky with anger. "No doubt 
 yu' heard about it!" said he. "I don't guess yu' 
 heard much about anything else. I 'ain't told the 
 truth to any of 'em — ^but her." He looked at me 
 with a certain hesitation. "I think I will," he 
 continued. "I don't mind tellin' you." 
 
 He began to speak in a strictly btisiness tone, 
 67 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 while he evened the coils of rope that hung on 
 his saddle. 
 
 "She had spoke to me about her birthday, and 
 I had spoke to her about something to give her. 
 I had offered to buy her in town whatever she 
 named, and I was figuring to borrow from Taylor. 
 But she fancied the notion of a bear-skin. I had 
 mentioned about some cubs. I had found the 
 cubs where the she-bear had them cached by 
 the foot of a big boulder in the range over Ten 
 Sleep, and I put back the leaves and stufE on top 
 o' them little things as near as I could the way I 
 found them, so that the bear 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-bear was off, and I 
 dumb up inside the rock, and I waited a turruble 
 long spell till the sun travelled clean around the 
 canon. Mrs. Bear came home though, a big cin- 
 namon; and I raised my gun, but laid it down 
 to see what she'd do. She scrapes around and 
 snuffs, and the cubs start whining, and she talks 
 back to 'em. Next she sits up awful big, and 
 lifts up a cub and holds it to her close with both 
 her paws, same as a person. And she rubbed her 
 ear agin the cub, and the cub sort o' nipped her, 
 and she cuffed the cub, and the other cub came 
 toddUn', and away they 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' 'em for a change onced in a while, and 
 talldn*, and onced in a while she'd sit up solemn 
 68 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 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! for I'd have hated to 
 have Mrs. Bear notice me. Miss Peck, she laugh- 
 ed. She claimed I was scared to shoot." 
 
 "After you had told her why it was?" said I. 
 
 "Before and after. I didn't tell her first, be- 
 cause I felt kind of foolish. Then Tommy went 
 and he killed the bear all right, and she has the 
 skin now. Of course the boys joshed me a heap 
 about gettin' beat by Tommy." 
 
 "But since she has taken you?" said I. 
 
 "She 'ain't said it. But she will when she un- 
 derstands Tommy." 
 
 I fancied that the lady understood. The once 
 I had seen her she appeared to me as what might 
 be termed an expert in men, and one to under- 
 stand also the reality of Tommy's ranch and al- 
 lowance, and how greatly these differed from Box 
 Elder. Probably the one thing she could not 
 understand was 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 a present lacking context — ^indeed, I hoped 
 with all my heart that Tommy would win! 
 
 "Lin," said I, "I'm backing him." 
 
 "Back away!" said he. "Tommy can please a 
 woman — him and his blue eyes — ^but he don't 
 savvy how to make a woman want him, not any 
 better than he knows about killin' Injuns." 
 
 "Did you hear about the Crows?" said I. 
 
 "About young bucks going on the war-path? 
 69 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Shucks! That's put up by the papers of this sec- 
 tion. They're aimin' to get Uncle Sam to order 
 his troops out, and then folks can sell hay and 
 stuff to 'em. If Tommy believed 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 full extent. "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 imtil we came 
 in sight of the Virginian's black horse tied in front 
 of Miss Wood's cabin next the Taylors' that Lin 
 changed the lively course of thought that was 
 evidently filling his mind. 
 
 "Tell jni'," said he, touching my arm coiifi- 
 dentially and pointing to the black horse, "for all 
 her Vermont refinement she's a woman just the 
 same. She likes him dangling round her so ear- 
 nest — ^him that nobody ever saw dangle before. 
 And he has quit spreein' with the boys. And 
 what does he get by it? I am glad I was not 
 raised good enough to appreciate the Miss Woods 
 of this world," he added, defiantly — "except at 
 long range." 
 
 At the Taylors' cabin we found Miss Wood sit- 
 ting with her admirer, and Tommy from River 
 70 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 side come to admire Miss Peck. The biscuit- 
 shooter might pass for twenty-seven, certainly. 
 Something had agreed with her; — whether the 
 medicine, or the mountain air, or so much mascu- 
 Hne company; whatever had done it, she had 
 bloomed into brutal comeliness. Her hair looked 
 curlier, her figure was shapelier, her teeth shone 
 whiter, and her cheeks were a lusty, overbearing 
 red. And there sat Molly Wood talking sweetly 
 to her big, grave Virginian; to look at them, there 
 was no doubt that he had been "raised good 
 enough" to appreciate her, no matter what had 
 been his raising! 
 
 Lin greeted every one jauntily. "How are yu'. 
 Miss Peck? How are yni', 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, and then he looked at Tommy. 
 Then what he did say was, "I hadn't been goin' 
 to mention it to the ladie^ until it was right sure." 
 
 "You needn't to be afraid. Miss Peck," said 
 Tommy. "There's lots of men here." 
 
 "Who's afraid?" said the biscuit-shooter. 
 
 "Oh," said Lin, "maybe it's like most news we 
 get in this country. Two weeks stale and a lie 
 when it was fresh." 
 
 "Of course," said Tommy. 
 
 "Hello, Tommy!" called Taylor from the lane. 
 "Your horse has broke his rein and run down the 
 field." 
 
 71 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Tommy rose in disgust and sped after the ani- 
 mal. 
 
 "I must be cooking supper now," said Katie, 
 shortly. 
 
 "I'i stir for yn'," said Lin, grinning at her. 
 
 "Come along then," said she; and they depart- 
 ed to the adjacent kitchen. 
 
 Miss Wood's gray eyes brightened with mis- 
 chief. She looked at her Virginian, and she 
 looked at me. 
 
 "Do you know," she said, "I used to be afraid 
 that when Bear Creek wasn'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 become just — ^just a 
 little trying to have two gentlemen so very — ■ 
 determined, you know?" 
 
 "Only one is determined," said the Virgiman. 
 
 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, Tom- 
 my is considered harmless, ma'am. A cow-punch- 
 er of reputation in this country would cert'nly 
 never let Tommy 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?" 
 
 72 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "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 difference between thinkin' and feel- 
 in', ma'am." 
 
 I saw Molly's eyes drop from his, and I saw the 
 rose deepen in her cheeks. But just then a loud 
 voice came from the kitchen. 
 
 "You, Lin, if you try any of your foolin' with 
 me, I'll histe jti's over the jiste!" 
 
 "All cow-punchers — " I attempted to resume. 
 
 "Quit now, Lin McLean," shouted the voice, 
 "or I'll put yu's through that window, and it 
 shut." 
 
 "Well, Miss Peck, I'm gettin' most a full dose 
 o' this treatment. Ever since yu' come I've been 
 doing my best. And ju' 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 Virginian as 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. Comcliff Mesa, Crowheart Butte, these 
 shone in the rays that came through the canon. 
 The canon's sides lifted like tawny castles in the 
 same light. Where I walked the odor of thou- 
 73 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 sands of wild roses hung over the margin where 
 the thickets grew. High in the upper air, mag- 
 pies were saiUng across the silent blue. Some- 
 where I could hear Tommy explaining loudly 
 how he and General Crook had pumped lead into 
 hundreds of Indians; and when supper-time 
 brought us all back to the door he was finishing 
 the account to Mrs. Taylor. Molly and the Vir- 
 ginian arrived bearing flowers, and he was 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 on the table as Lin 
 came hurrying out. 
 
 "I've told her," said he to the Southerner and 
 me, "that I've asked her twiced, and I'm going to 
 let her have one more chance. And I've told 
 her that if it's a log cabin she's marryin', why 
 Tommy is a sure good wooden piece of fttmiture 
 to put inside it. And I guess she knows there's 
 not much wooden furniture about me. I want to 
 speak to you." He took the Virginian round the 
 ■comer. But though he would not confide in 
 me, I bega-n to discern something quite definite 
 at supper. 
 
 "Cattle men will lose stock if the Crows get 
 down as far as this," he said, casually, and Mrs, 
 Taylor suppressed a titter. 
 74 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Ain't it hawses they're repawted as running 
 off?" said the Virginian. 
 
 "Chap come into the round-up this afternoon," 
 said Lin. "But he was rattled, 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, dismiss- 
 ing 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 bull- 
 fighter. Gets him up in the 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 the mount'ins to experiment, 
 where they'd not have interruption," said the 
 Virginian. 
 
 "Talking of mountains," said Tommy, "this 
 range here used to be a great place for Indians 
 till we ran 'em out with Terry. Pumped lead 
 into the red sons-of-guns." 
 
 "You bet," said Lin. "Do yu' figure that girl 
 tired of her bull-fighter and 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 like to see them countries 
 75 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 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 aUalfa, a grass but lately intro- 
 duced in the country. No further mention was 
 made of the hostile Crows, and from this I drew 
 the false conclusion that Tommy had not come 
 up to their hopes in the matter of reciting his 
 campaigns. But when the hotir came for those 
 visitors who were not spending the night to take 
 their leave, Taylor drew Tommy aside with me, 
 and I noticed the Virginian speaking with Molly 
 Wood, whose face showed diversion. 
 
 "Don't seem to make anything of it," whisper- 
 ed Taylor to Tommy, "but the ladies 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 they take 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 to camp, for we're 
 on second relief." 
 
 "And the ladies would sleep better knowing 
 there was another man in the house," said Taylor. 
 
 "In that case," said Tommy, "I—" 
 
 "Yu' see," said Lin, "they've been told about 
 Ten Sleep being burned two nights ago." 
 
 "It 'ain't!" cried Tommy. 
 
 "Why, of course it 'ain't," drawled the inge- 
 nious Lin. "But that's what I say. You and I 
 76 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 know Ten Sleep's all right, but we can't report 
 from our own knowledge seeing it all right, and 
 there it is. They get these nervous notions." 
 
 "Just don't appear to make anything special of 
 not going back to Riverside," repeated Taylor, 
 "but—" 
 
 "But just kind of stay here," said Lin. 
 
 "I will!" exclaimed Tonamy. "Of course, I'm 
 glad to oblige." 
 
 I suppose I was slow-sighted. All this pains 
 seemed to me larger than its results. They had 
 imposed upon Tommy, yes. But what of that? 
 He was to be kept from going back to Riverside 
 until morning. Unless they proposed to visit his 
 empty cabin and play tricks — ^but that would be 
 too childish, even for Lin McLean, to say nothing 
 of the Virginian, his occasional partner in mis- 
 chief. 
 
 "In spite of the Crows," I satirically told the 
 ladies, "I shall sleep outside, as I intended. I've 
 no use for houses at this season." 
 
 The cinches of the horses were tightened, Lin 
 and the Virginian laid a hand on their saddle- 
 horns, swung up, and soon' all sound of the gal- 
 loping horses had ceased. Molly Wood declined 
 to be nervous, and crossed to her little neighbor 
 cabin; we all parted, and (as always in that 
 blessed country) deep sleep quickly came to me. 
 
 I don't know how long after it was that I 
 
 sprang from my blankets in half-doubting fright. 
 
 But I had dreamed nothing. A second long, wild 
 
 yell now gave me (I must own to it) a horrible 
 
 77 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 oMU. I had no pistol — nothing. In the hateful 
 brightness of the. moon my single thought was 
 "House! House!" and I fled across the lane in 
 my underclothes to the cabin, when round the 
 comer whirled the two cow-punchers, and I un- 
 derstood. I saw the Virginian catch sight of me 
 in my shirt, and saw his teeth as he smiled. I 
 hastened to my blankets, and returned more de- 
 cent to stand and watch the two go shooting and 
 yelling round the cabin, crazy with their youth. 
 The door was opened, and Taylor courageously 
 emerged, bearing a Winchester. He fired at the 
 sky immediately. 
 
 " 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 in white, staring and stolid. 
 But no Tommy. Noise prevailed without, shots 
 by the stable and shots by the creek. The two 
 cow-punchers dismounted and joined Taylor. 
 Maniac delight seized me, and I, too, rushed about 
 with them, helping the din. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Taylor!" said a voice. " I didn't think 
 it of you." It was Molly Wood, come from her 
 cabin, very pretty in a hood-and-cloak arrange- 
 ment. She stood by the fence, laughing, but 
 more at us than with us. 
 
 "Stop, friends!" said Taylor, gasping. "She 
 teaches my Bobbie his ABC. I'd hate to have 
 Bobbie—" 
 
 "Speak to your papa," said Molly, and held het 
 scholar up on the fence. 
 78 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 "Well, I'll be gol-damed," said Taylor, survey- 
 ing his costume, "if Lin McLean hasn't made a 
 fool of me to-night!" 
 
 "Where has "Tommy got?" said Mrs. Taylor. 
 
 "Didn't yu's see him ?" said the biscuit-shooter, 
 speaking her first word in 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 
 the plates were rattling up and down like castanets. 
 
 There was a silence aniong us, and I wondered 
 what we were going to do. 
 
 "Well," murmured the Virginian to himself, 
 "if I could have foresaw, I'd not — it makes yu' 
 feel humiliated yu'self." 
 
 He marched out, got on his horse, and rode 
 away. Lin followed him, but perhaps less peni- 
 tently. We all dispersed without saying any- 
 thing, and presently from my blankets I saw 
 poor Tommy come out of the silent cabin, mount, 
 and slowly, very slowly, ride away. He would 
 spend the night at Riverside, after all. 
 
 Of course we recovered from our unexpected 
 shame, and the tale of the table and the dancing 
 plates was not told as a sad one. But it is a sad 
 one when you think of it. 
 
 I was not there to see Lin get his bride. 1 
 learned from the Virginian how the victorious 
 puncher had ridden away across the sunny sage- 
 brush, bearing the biscuit-shooter with him to the 
 nearest justice of the peace. She was astride the 
 horse he had brought for her. 
 79 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 "Yes, he beat Tommy," said the Virginian. 
 "Some folks, anjrway, get what they want in this 
 hyeh world." 
 
 From which I inferred that Miss Molly Wood 
 was harder to beat than Tommy. 
 
m 
 
 BONBY-MOON UN 
 
 Rain had not fallen for some sixty days, and 
 for some sixty more there was no necessity that 
 it should fall. It is spells of weather like this 
 that set the Western editor writing praise and 
 prophecy of the boundless fertility of the soil — 
 when irrigated, and of what an Eden it can be 
 made — with irrigation; but the spells annoy the 
 people who are trying to raise the Eden. We al- 
 ways told the transient Eastern visitor, when he 
 arrived at Cheyenne and criticised the desert, that 
 anything would grow here — ^with irrigation; and 
 sometimes he replied, unsympathetically, that 
 anything could fly — with wings. Then we would 
 lead such a man out and show him six, eight, ten 
 square miles of green crops; and he, if he was 
 thoroughly nasty, would mention that Wyoming 
 contained ninety-five thousand square miles, all 
 waiting for irrigation and Eden. One of these 
 Eastern supercivilized hostiles from New York 
 was breakfasting with the Governor and me at 
 the Cheyenne Club, and we were explaining to 
 him the glorious future, the coming empire, of 
 the Western country. Now the Governor was 
 6 8i 
 
LIN McLEAIS 
 
 about thirty-two, and -until twenty-five had nevei 
 gone West far enough to see over the top of the 
 Alleghany Mountains. I was not a pioneer my- 
 self; and why both of us should have pitied the 
 New-Yorker's narrowness so hard I cannot see. 
 But we did. We spoke to him of the size of the 
 country. We told him that his State could rattle 
 round inside Wyoming's stomach without any in- 
 convenience to Wyoming, and he told us that this 
 was because Wyoming's stomach was empty. Al- 
 together I began to feel almost sorry that I had 
 asked him to come out for a hunt, and had trav- 
 elled in haste all the way from Bear Creek to 
 Cheyenne expressly to meet him. 
 
 "For purposes of amusement," he said, "I'll 
 admit anything you claim for this place. Ranches, 
 cowboys, elk; it's all splendid. Only, as an in- 
 vestment, I prefer the East. Am I to see any 
 cowboys ?" 
 
 "You shall," I said; and I distinctly hoped 
 some of them might do something to him "for 
 purposes of amusement." 
 
 "You fellows come up with me to my office," 
 said the Governor. "I'll look at my mail, and 
 show you round." So we went with him through 
 the heat and sun. 
 
 "What's that?" inquired the New-Yorker, 
 whom I shall call James Ogden. 
 
 "That is our park," said I. "Of course it's 
 merely in embryo. It's wonderful how quickly 
 any shade tree will grow here '' — " I checked 
 myself. 
 
 82 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 But Ogden said "with irrigation" for me, and 
 I was entirely sorry he had come. 
 
 We reached the Governor's office, and sat down 
 while he looked his letters over. 
 
 "Here you are, Ogden," said he. "Here's the 
 way we hump ahead out here." And he read us 
 the following: 
 
 "Magaw, Kansas, July s, i88 — . 
 "Hon. Amory W. Barker: 
 
 " Sir, — Understanding that your district is siiffering from a 
 jH'olonged drought, I write to say that for necessary expenses 
 paid I will be glad to furnish you with a reasonable shower. I 
 have operated successfully in Australia, Mexico, and several 
 States of the Union, and am anxious to exhibit my system. If 
 your Legislature will appropriate a sum to cover, as I said, 
 marely my necessary expenses — say $350 (three hundred and 
 fifty dollars) — ^f or half an inch, I will guarantee you that quanti- 
 ty of rain or forfeit the money. If I fail to give you the small- 
 est fraction of the amoiint contracted for, there is to be no pay. 
 Kindly advise me of what date will be most convenient for you 
 to have the shower. I require twenty-four hours' preparation. 
 Hoping a favorable reply, 
 
 " I am, respectfully yours, 
 
 "Robert H:lbrun." 
 
 "Will the Legislature do it?" inquired Ogden, 
 in good faith. 
 
 The Governor laughed, boisterously. "I guess 
 it wouldn't be constitutional," said he. 
 
 "Oh, bother!" said Ogden. 
 
 "My dear man," the Governor protested, "I 
 know we're new, and our women vote, and we're 
 a good deal of a joke, but we're not so progressive- 
 ly funny as all that. The people wouldn't stand 
 it. Senator Warren would fly right into my back 
 hair." Barker was also new as Governor. 
 83 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 " Do you have Senators here, too ?" said Ogden, 
 raising his eyebrows. "What do they look like? 
 Are they females?" And the Governor grew 
 more boisterous than ever, slapping his knee and 
 declaring that these Eastern men were certainly 
 "out of sight." Ogden, however, was thoughtful. 
 "I'd have been willing to chip in for that rain 
 myself," he said. 
 
 "That's an idea!" cried the Governor. "Noth- 
 ing unconstitutional about that. Let's see. Three 
 hundred and fifty dollars — " 
 
 "I'll put up a hundred," said Ogden, promptly. 
 "I'm out for a Western vacation, and I'll pay for 
 a good specimen." 
 
 The Gk)vernor and I subscribed more modestly, 
 and by noon, with the help of some Uvely minded 
 gentlemen of Cheyenne, we had the purse raised. 
 " He won't care," said the Governor, "whether it's 
 a private enterprise or a municipal step, so long 
 as he gets his money." 
 
 "He won't get it, I'm afraid," said Ogden. 
 "But if he succeeds in tempting Providence to 
 that extent, I consider it cheap. Now what do 
 you call those people there on the horses?" 
 
 We were walking along the track of the Chey- 
 enne and Northern, and looking out over the plain 
 toward Fort Russell. "That is a cow-puncher 
 and his bride," I answered, recognizing the 
 couple. 
 
 "Real cow-pimcher?" 
 
 "Quite. The puncher's name is Lia McLeaa." 
 
 "Real bride?" 
 
 84 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "I'm afraid so." 
 
 "She's riding straddle!" exclaimed the delight- 
 ed Ogden, adjusting his glasses. "Why do you 
 object to their union being holy ?" 
 
 I explained that my friend Lin had lately mar- 
 ried an eating-house lady precipitately and against 
 my advice. 
 
 "I suppose he knew his business," observed 
 Ogden. 
 
 "That's what he said to me at the time. But 
 you ought to see her — and know him." 
 
 Ogden was going to. Husband and wife were 
 coming our way. Husband nodded to me his 
 familiar offish nod, which concealed his satisfac- 
 tion at meeting with an old friend. Wife did not 
 look at me at all. But I looked at her, and I in- 
 stantly knew that Lin — the fool! — had confided to 
 her my disapproval of their marriage. The most 
 delicate specialty upon earth is your standing 
 with your old friend's new wife. 
 
 "Good-day, Mr. McLean," said the Governor to 
 the cow-puncher on his horse. 
 
 "How are yu', doctor," said Lin. During his 
 early days in Wyoming the Governor, when as 
 yet a private citizen, had set Mr. McLean's bro- 
 ken leg at Drybone. " Let me make yu' known t® 
 Mrs. McLean," pursued the husband. 
 
 The lady, at a loss how convention prescribes 
 the greeting of a bride to a Governor, gave a wad- 
 dle on the pony's back, then sat up stiff, gazed 
 haughtily at the air, and did not speak or show 
 any more sign than a cow would under like cir- 
 8S 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 cumstances. So the Governor marched cheerful- 
 ly at her, extending his hand, and when she slight- 
 ly moved out toward him her big, dumb, red fist, 
 he took it and shook it, and made her a series of 
 compliments, she maintaining always the scrupu- 
 lous reserve of the cow. 
 
 "I say," Ogden whispered to me while Barker 
 was pumping the hand of the fiesh image, "I'm 
 glad I came." The appearance of the puncher- 
 bridegroom also interested Ogden, and he looked 
 hard at Lin's leather chaps and cartridge-belt and 
 so forth. Lin stared at the New-Yorker, and his 
 high white collar and good scarf. He had seen 
 such things quite often, of course, but they al- 
 ways filled him with the same distrust of the man 
 that wore them. 
 
 "Well," said he, "I guess we'll be pulling for 
 a hotel. Aiiy show in town? Circus come 
 yet?" 
 
 "No," said I. "Are you going to make a long 
 stay?" 
 
 The cow-puncher glanced at the image, his 
 bride of three weeks. "Till we're tired of it, I 
 guess," said he, with hesitation. It was the first 
 time that I had ever seen my gay friend look tim- 
 idly at any one, and I felt a rising hate for the 
 ruby-cheeked, large-eyed, eating-house lady, the 
 biscuit-shooter whose influence was dimming this 
 jaunty, irrepressible spirit. I looked at her. Her 
 bulky bloom had ensnared him, a;nd now she was 
 going to tame and spoil him. The Governor was 
 looking at her too, thoughtfully. 
 8b 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Say, Lin," I said, "if you stay here long 
 enough you'll see a big show." And his eye li- 
 vened into something of its native jocularity as I 
 told him of the rain-maker. 
 
 "Shucks!" said he, springing from his horse 
 impetuously, and hugely entertained at our vent- 
 ure. "Three hundred and fifty dollars? Let me 
 come in"; and before I could tell him that we 
 had all the money raised, he was hauling out a 
 wadded lump of bills. 
 
 "Well, I ain't going to starve here in the road, 
 I guess," spoke the image, with the suddenness 
 of a miracle. I think we all jumped, and I know 
 that Lin did. The image continued: "Some 
 folks and their money are soon parted" — she 
 meant me; her searching tones came straight at. 
 me; I was sure from the first that she knew all 
 about me and my unfavorable opinion of her — 
 "but it ain't going to be you this time, Lin Mc- 
 Lean. Ged apj" This last was to the horse, I 
 maintain, though the Governor says the husband 
 immediately started ofE on a run. 
 
 At any rate, they were gone to their hotel, and 
 Ogden was seated on some railroad ties, exclaim- 
 ing: "Oh, I like Wyoming! I am certainly glad 
 I came." 
 
 "That's who she is!" said the Governor, re- 
 membering Mrs. McLean all at once. "I know 
 her. She used to be at Sidney. She's got an- 
 other husband somewhere. She's one of the 
 boys. Oh, that's nothing in this country!" he 
 continued to the amazed Ogden, who had ejacU' 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 lated "Bigamy!" "Lots of them marry, live to- 
 gethei awhile, get tired and quit, travel, catch 
 on to a new man, marry him, ,get tired and qiiit 
 travel, catch on — " 
 
 "One moment, I beg," said Ogden, adjusting 
 his glasses. "What does the law — " 
 
 "Law?" said the Governor. "Look at that 
 place!" He swept his hand towards the vast 
 plains and the mountains. "Ninety-five thou- 
 sand square miles of that, and sixty thousand 
 people in it. We haven't got policemen yet on 
 top of the Rocky Mountains." 
 
 "I see," said the New-Yorker. "But— but- 
 well, let A and B represent first and second hus- 
 bands, and X represent the woman. Now, does 
 A know about B ? or does B know about A ? And 
 what do they do about it ?" 
 
 "Can't say," the Governor answered, jovially. 
 "Can't generalize. Depends on heaps of things — 
 love — ^money — ■ Did you go to college? Well, 
 let A minus X equal B plus X, then if A and B 
 get squared — " 
 
 "Oh, come to lunch," I said. "Barker, do you 
 really know the first husband is alive?" 
 
 "Wasn't dead last winter." And Barker gave 
 us the particulars. Miss Katie Peck had not 
 served long in the restaurant before, she was 
 wooed and won by a man who had been a ranch 
 cook, a sheep-herder, a bar -tender, a freight hand, 
 and was then hauling poles for the government. 
 During his necessary absences from home she, 
 too, went out-of-doors. This he often discovered. 
 88 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 and would beat her, and she would then also beat 
 him. After the beatings one of them would al- 
 ways leave the other forever. Thus was Sidney 
 kept in small-talk until Mrs. Lusk one day really 
 did not come back. "Lusk," said the Governor, 
 finishing his story, "cried around the saloons 
 f ^r a couple of days, and then went on haul- 
 ing poles for the government, till at last he 
 said he'd heard of a better Job south, and next 
 we knew of him he was round Leavenworth. 
 Lusk was a pretty poor bird. Owes me ten dol- 
 lars." 
 
 "Well," I said, "none ofv us ever knew about 
 him when she came to stay with Mrs. Taylor on 
 Bear Creek. She was Miss Peck when Lin made 
 her Mrs. McLean." 
 
 "You'll notice," said the Governor, "how she 
 has got him under in three weeks. Old hand, 
 you see." 
 
 "Poor Lin!" I said. 
 
 "Lucky, I call him," said the Govemca:. "He 
 can quit her." 
 
 "Supposing McLean does not want to quit 
 her.?" 
 
 "She's educating him to want to right now, 
 and I think he'll leam pretty quick. I guess Mr. 
 Lin's romance wasn't very ideal this trip. Hel- 
 lo! here comes Jode. Jode, won't you lunch with 
 us? Mr. Ogden, of New York, Mr. Jode. Mr. 
 Jode is our signal-service officer, Mr. Ogden." 
 The Governor's eyes were sparkling hilariously, 
 and he winked at me. 
 
 89 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Gentlemen, good-morning. Mr. Ogden, 1 am 
 honored to make your acquaintance," said the 
 signal-service ofi&cer. 
 
 "Jode, when is it going to rain?" said the Gov- 
 ernor, anxiously. 
 
 Now Jode is the most extraordinarily solemn 
 man I have ever known. He has the solemnity 
 of all science, added to the unspeakable weight 
 of representing five of the oldest families in 
 South Carolina. The Jodes themselves were not 
 old in South Carolina, but immensely so in — I 
 think he told me it was Long Island. His name 
 is Poinsett Middleton Manigault Jode. He used 
 to weight a hundred and twenty-eight pounds 
 then, but his health has strengthened in that 
 climate. His clothes were black; his face was 
 white, with black eyes sharp as a pin ; he had the 
 shape of a spout — the same narrow size all the 
 way down — and his voice was as dry and light as 
 an egg-shell. In his first days at Cheyenne he 
 had constantly challenged large cowboys for tak- 
 ing familiarities with his dignity, and they, after 
 one moment's bewilderment, had concocted apol- 
 ogies that entirely met his exactions, and gave 
 them much satisfaction also. Nobody would 
 have hurt Jode for the world. In time he came 
 to see that Wyoming was a game invented after 
 his book of rules was published, and he looked 
 on, but could not play the game. He had fallen, 
 along with other incongruities, into the roaring 
 Western hotch-pot, and he passed his careful, pre- 
 cise days with barometers and weather-charts. 
 ao 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 He answered the Governor with ofHcial and 
 South Carolina impressiveness. "There is no in- 
 dication of diminution of the prevailing press- 
 ure," he said. 
 
 ■' Well, that's what I thought," said the joyous 
 Governor, "so I'm going to whoop her up.' 
 
 "What do you expect to whoop up, sir?" 
 
 "Atmosphere, and all that," said the Governor. 
 " W^hole business has got to get a move on. I've 
 sent for a rain-maker." 
 
 "Governor, you are certainly a wag, sir," said 
 Jode, who enjoyed Barker as some people enjoy 
 a symphony, without understanding it. But after 
 we had reached the club and were lunching, and 
 Jode realized that a letter had actually been writ- 
 ten telling Hilbrun to come and bring his showers 
 with him, the punctilious signal-service officer 
 stated his position. "Have your joke, sir," he 
 said, waving a thin, clean hand, "but I decline to 
 meet him." 
 
 "Hilbrun?" said the Governor, staring. 
 
 "If that's his name — yes, sir. As a member of 
 the Weather Bureau and the Meteorological So- 
 ciety I can have nothing to do with the fellow." 
 
 "Glory!" said the Governor. "Well, I suppose 
 not. I see your point, Jode. I'll be careful to 
 keep you apart. As a member of the College of 
 Physicians I've felt that way about homoeopathy 
 and the faith-ciire. All very well if patients will 
 call 'em in, but can't meet 'em in consultation. 
 But three months' drought annually, Jode! It's 
 slow — too slow. The Western people feel that 
 qi 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 this conservative method the Zodiac does its busi-> 
 ness by is out of date." 
 
 "I am qtiite serious, sir," said Jode. "And let 
 me express my gratification that you do see my 
 point." So we changed the subject. 
 
mi 
 
 "YOU SAGE-BRUSH BIGAMISt!" 
 
 Our weather scheme did not at first greatly 
 move the public. Beyond those who made up 
 the purse, few of our acquaintances expressed 
 curiosity about Hilbrun, and next afternoon Lin 
 McLean told me in the street that he was dis- 
 gusted with Cheyenne's coldness towards the en- 
 terprise. " But the boys would fly right at it and 
 stay with it if the round-up was near town, you 
 bet," said he. 
 
 He was walldng alone. "How's Mrs. McLean 
 to-day?" I inquired. 
 
 "She's well," said Lin, turning his eye from 
 mine. "VyTio's your friend all bugged up in Eng- 
 lish clothes?" 
 
 "About as good a man as you," said I, "and 
 more cautious." 
 
 "Him and his eye-glasses!" said the sceptical 
 puncher, still looking away from me and siurvey- 
 ing Ogden, who was approaching with the Gov- 
 ernor. That excellent man, still at long range, 
 broke out smiling till his teeth shone, and he 
 waved a yellow paper at us. 
 93 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Telegram from Hilbrun," he shouted; "be 
 here to-morrow!" And he hastened up. 
 
 "Says he wants a cart at the depot, and a small 
 building where he can be private," added Ogden, 
 "Great, isn't it?" 
 
 "You bet!" said Lin, brightening. The New- 
 Yorker's urbane but obvious excitement molli- 
 fied Mr. McLean. "Ever seen rain made, Mr. 
 Ogden?" said he. 
 
 ' ' Never. Have you ? ' ' 
 
 Lin had not. Ogden ofEered him a cigar, which 
 the puncher pronounced excellent, and we all 
 agreed to see Hilbrun arrive. 
 
 "We're going to show the telegram to Jode," 
 said the Governor; and he and Ogden departed 
 on this mission to the signal service. 
 
 "Well, I must be getting along myself," said 
 Lin; but he continued walking slowly with me. 
 "Where 're yu' bound?" he said. 
 
 ' ' Nowhere in particular," said I. And we paced 
 the board sidewalks a little more. 
 
 "You're going to meet the train to-morrow?" 
 said he. 
 
 "The train? Oh yes. Hilbrun's. To-mor- 
 row. You'll be there ?" 
 
 "Yes, I'll be there. It's sure been a dry spelL 
 'ain't it?" 
 
 "Yes. Just like last year. In fact, like all the 
 years." 
 
 "Yes. I've never saw it rain any to speak 
 of in summer. I expect it's the rule. Don't 
 you?" 
 
 94 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder." 
 
 "I don't guess any man knows enough to break 
 such a rule. Do you?" 
 
 "No. But it '11 be fun to see him try." 
 
 "Sure fun! Well, I must be getting along. 
 See yu' to-morrow." 
 
 "See you to-morrow, Lin." 
 
 He left me at the corner, and I stood watching 
 his tall, depressed figure. A hundred yards down 
 the street he turned, and seeing me looking after 
 him, pretended he had not turned; and then I 
 took my steps towards the club, telling myself 
 that I had been something of a skunk; for I had 
 inquired for Mrs. McLean in a certain tone, and 
 I had hinted to Lin that he had lacked caution; 
 and this was nothing but a way of saying "I told 
 you so" to the man that is down. Down Lin 
 certainly was, although it had not come so home 
 to me until our little walk together just now along 
 the boards. 
 
 At the club I found the Governor teaching 
 Ogden a Cheyenne specialty — a particular drink, 
 the AUston cocktail. "It's the bitters that does 
 the trick," he was sajring, but saw me and called 
 out: "You ought to have been with us and seen 
 Jode. I showed him the telegram, you know. 
 He read it through, and just handed it back to 
 me, and went on monkeying with his anemometer. 
 Ever seen his instruments? Every fresh jigger 
 they get out he sends for. Well, he monkeyed 
 away, and wouldn't say a word, so I said, 'You 
 understand, Jode, this telegram comes from Hil- 
 95 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 brun,* And Jode, he quit his anemometer and s^d, 
 ' I make no doubt, sir, that your despatch is genu- 
 wine.' Oh, South Carolina's indignant at me!'' 
 And the Governor slapped his knee. "Why, he's 
 so set against Hilbrun," he continued, "I guess 
 if he knew of something he could explode to stop 
 rain he'd let her fly!" 
 
 "No, he wouldn't," said I. "He'd not consider 
 'that honorable." 
 
 "That's so," the Governor assented. "Jode '11 
 play fair." 
 
 It was thus we had come to look at our enter- 
 prise — a game between a well-established, respect- 
 able weather bureau and an upstart charlatan. 
 And it was the charlatan had our S5anpathy — as 
 all charlatans, whether religious, military, medi- 
 cal, political, or what not, have with the 'average' 
 American. We met him at the station. That is, 
 Ogden, McLean, and I; and the Governor, being 
 engaged, sent (unofficially) his secretary and the 
 requested eart. Lin was anxious to see what 
 would be put in the cart, and I was curious about 
 how a rain-maker would look. But he turned 
 out an unassuming, quiet man in blue serge, 
 with a face you could not remember afterwards, 
 and a few civil, ordinary remarks. He even said 
 it was a hot day, as if he had no relations with 
 the weather; and what he put into the cart were 
 only two packing-boxes of no special significance 
 to the eye. He desired no lodging at the hotel, 
 but to sleep with his apparatus in the building 
 provided for him; and we set out for it at once, 
 96 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 It was an untenanted bam, and he asked that he 
 and his assistant might cut a hole in the roof, 
 upon which we noticed the assistant for the first 
 time — a tallish, good-looking young man, but 
 with a weak mouth. "This is Mr. Lusk," said the 
 rain-maker; and we shook hands, Ogden and I 
 exchanging a glance. Ourselves and the cart 
 marched up Hill Street — or Capitol Avenue, as 
 it has become named since Cheyenne has grown 
 fuller of pomp and emptier of prosperity — and 
 I thought we made an unusual procession: the 
 Governor's secretary, unoflEicially leading the way 
 to the bam; the cart, and the rain-maker beside it, 
 guarding his packed-up mysteries; McLean and 
 Lusk, walking together in unconscious bigamy; 
 and in the rear, Ogden nudging me in the ribs. 
 That it was the correct Lusk we had with us I 
 felt sure from his incompetent, healthy, vacant 
 appearance, strong-bodied and shiftless — the sort 
 of man to weary of one trade and another, and 
 make a failure of wife-beating betweenwhiles. 
 In Twenty-fourth Street — the town's uttermost 
 rim — the Governor met us, and stared at Lusk. 
 "Christopher!" was his single observation; but 
 he never forgets a face — cannot afford to, now 
 that he is in politics; and, besides, Lusk remem- 
 bered him. You seldom really forget a man to 
 whom you owe ten dollars. 
 
 "So you've quit hauling poles?" said the Gov- 
 ernor. 
 
 "Nothing in it, sir," said Lusk. 
 
 "Is there any objection to my having a hole in 
 7 97 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 the roof?" asked the rain-maker: for this the 
 secretary had been unable to tell him. 
 
 "What! going to throw your bombs through 
 it?" said the Governor, smiling heartily. 
 
 But the rain-maker explained at once that his 
 was not the bomb system, but a method attended 
 by more rain and less disturbance. ' ' Not that the 
 bomb don't produce first-class results at times 
 and under circumstances," he said, "but it's un- 
 certain and costly." 
 
 The Governor hesitated about the hole in the 
 roof, which Hilbrun told us was for a metal pipe 
 to conduct his generated gases into the air. The 
 owner of the barn had gone to Laramie. How- 
 ever, we found a stove-pipe hole, which saved 
 delay. "And what day would you prefer the 
 shower?" said Hilbrun, after we had gone over 
 our contract with him. 
 
 "Any day would do," the Governor said. 
 
 This was Thursday; and Sunday was chosen, 
 as a day when no one had business to detain him 
 from witnessing the shower — though it seemed 
 to me that on week-days, too, business in Chey- 
 enne was not so inexorable as this. We gave 
 the strangers some informajtion about the town, 
 and left them. The sun went away in a cloudless 
 sky, and came so again when the stars had fin- 
 ished their untarnished shining. Friday was clear 
 and dry and hot, like the dynasty of blazing days 
 that had gone before. 
 
 I saw a sorry spectacle in the street — the bride- 
 groom and the bride shopping together; or, rather, 
 98 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 he with his wad of bills was obediently pa3ring for 
 what she bought; and when I met them he was 
 carrying a scarlet parasol and a bonnet-box. His 
 biscuit-shooter, with the lust of purchase on her, 
 was brilliantly dressed, and pervaded the street 
 with splendor, like an escaped parrot. Lin walked 
 beside her, but it might as well have been behind, 
 and his bearing was so different from his wonted 
 happy-go-luckiness that I had a mind to take off 
 my hat and say, "Good-morning, Mrs. Lusk." 
 But it was "Mrs. McLean" I said, of course. She 
 gave me a remote, imperious nod, and said, "Come 
 on, Lin," something like a cross nurse, while he, 
 out of sheer decency, made her a good-humored, 
 jocular answer, and said to me, "It takes a woman 
 to know what to buy for house-keepin' " ; which 
 poor piece of hypocrisy endeared hitn to me more 
 than ever. The puncher was not of the fibre to 
 succeed in keeping appearances, but he deserved 
 success, which the angels consider to be enough. 
 I wondered if disenchantment had set in, or if 
 this were only the preliminary stage of surprise 
 and wounding, and I felt that but one test could 
 show, namely, a coming face to face of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Lusk, perhaps not to be desired. Neither 
 was it likely. The assistant rain-maker kept him- 
 selt steadfastly inside or near the barn, at the 
 north corner of Cheyenne, while the bride, when 
 she was in the street at all, haunted the shops 
 clear across town diagonally. 
 
 On this Friday noon the appearance of the metal 
 tube above the blind building spread some excite- 
 99 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ment. It moved several of the citizens to pa5 
 the place a visit and ask to see the machine. 
 These callers, of course, sustained a polite re- 
 fusal, and returned among their friends with a 
 contempt for such quackery, and a greatly height- 
 ened curiosity; so that pretty soon you could 
 hear discussions at the street-corners, and by 
 Saturday morning Cheyenne was talking of little 
 else. The town prowled about the barn and its 
 oracular metal tube, and heard and saw nothing. 
 The Governor and I (let it be confessed) went 
 there ourselves, since the twenty -four hours of re- 
 quired preparation were now begun. We smelled 
 for chemicals, and he thought there was a some- 
 tliing, but having been bred a doctor, distrust- 
 ed his imagination. I could not be sure myself 
 whether there was anything or not, although I 
 walked three times round the barn, snuffing as 
 dispassionately as I knew how. It might possibly 
 be chlorine, the Governor said, or some gas for 
 which ammonia was in part responsible ; and this 
 was all he could say, and we left the place. The 
 world was as still and the hard, sharp hills as clear 
 and near as ever; and the sky over Sahara is not 
 more dry and enduring than was ours. This 
 tenacity in the elements plainly gave Jode a mali- 
 cious official pleasure. We could tell it by his 
 talk at lunch; and when the Governor reminded 
 him that no rain was contracted for until the 
 next day, he mentioned that the approach of a 
 storm is something that modern science is able 
 to ascertain long in advance; and he bade us 
 
 lOO 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 come to his office whenever we pleased, and see 
 for ourselves what science said. This was, at any 
 rate, something to fill the afternoon with, and we 
 went to him about five. Lin McLean joined us 
 on the way. I came upon him Ungering alone in 
 the street, and he told me that Mrs. McLean was 
 calling on friends. I saw that he did not know 
 how to spend the short recess or holiday he was 
 having. He seemed to cling to the society of 
 others, and with them for the time regain his 
 gayer mind. He had become converted to Ogden. 
 and the New-Yorker, on his side, found pleasant 
 and refreshing this democracy of Governors and 
 cow-punchers. Jode received us at the signal- 
 service office, and began to show us his instru- 
 ments with the careful pride of an orchid-col- 
 lector. 
 
 "A hair hygrometer," he said to me, waving 
 his waxlike hand over it. "The indications are 
 obtained from the expansion and contraction of 
 a prepared human hair, transferred to an index 
 needle traversing the divided arc of — " 
 
 "What oil do you put on the human hair, 
 Jode?" called out the Governor, who had left 
 our group, and was gamboling about by himself 
 among the tubes and dials. "What will this one 
 do?" he asked, and poked at a wet paper disc. 
 But before the courteous Jode could explain that 
 it had to do with evaporation and the dew-point, 
 the Governor's attention wandered, and he was 
 blowing at a little fan-wheel. This instantly re- 
 volved and set a number of dial hands going dif- 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ferent ways. "Hi!" said the Governor, delighted. 
 "Seen 'em like that down mines. Register air 
 velocity in feet. Put it away, Jode. You don't 
 want that to-morrow. What you '11 need, Hilbrun 
 says, is a big old rain-gauge and rubber shoes." 
 
 "I shall require nothing of the sort. Governor," 
 'Jode retorted at once. "And you can go to 
 church without your umbrella in safety, sir. See 
 there." He pointed to a storm-glass, which was 
 certainly as clear as crystal. "An old-fashioned 
 test, you will doubtless say, gentlemen," Jode 
 continued — though none of us would have said 
 anything like that — "but unjustly discredited; 
 and, furthermore, its testimony is well corrobo- 
 rated, as you will find you must admit." Jode's 
 voice was almost threatening, and he fetched 
 one corroborator after another. I looked passive- 
 ly at wet and dry bulbs, at self-recording, dotted 
 registers; I caught the fleeting sound of words 
 like "meniscus" and "terrestrial minimum ther- 
 mometer," and I nodded punctually when Jode 
 went through some calculation. At last I heard 
 something that I could understand — a series of 
 telegraphic replies to Jode from brother signal- 
 service officers all over the United States. He 
 read each one through from date to signature, 
 and they all made any rain to-morrow entirely 
 impossible. "And I tell you," Jode concluded, 
 in his high, egg-shell voice, "there's no chance of 
 precipitation now, sir. I tell you, sir" — he was 
 shrieking jubilantly — "there's not a damn thing 
 to precipitate!" 
 
 I02 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 We left him in his triumph among his glass 
 and mercury. "Gee whiz!" said the Governor. 
 "I guess we'd better go and tell Hilbrun it's no 
 use." 
 
 We went, and Hilbrun smiled with a certain 
 compassion for the antiquated scientist. "That's 
 what they all say," he said. "I'll do my talking 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "If any of you gentlemen, or your friends," 
 said Assistant Lusk, stepping up, "feel like doing 
 a little business on this, I am ready to accommo- 
 date you." 
 
 "What do yu' want this evenin'?" said Lin 
 McLean, promptly. 
 
 "Five to one," said Lusk. 
 
 "Go yu' in twenties," said the impetuous punch- 
 er; and I now perceived this was to be a sporting 
 event. Lin had his wad of bills out — or what of 
 it still survived his bride's shopping. "Will you 
 hold stakes, doctor?" he said to the Governor. 
 
 But that official looked at the clear sky, and 
 thought he would do five to one in twenties him- 
 self. Lusk accommodated him, and then Ogden, 
 and then me. None of us could very well be 
 stake-holder, but we registered our bets, and 
 promised to procure an uninterested man by 
 eight next morning. I have seldom had so much 
 trouble, and I never saw such a universal search 
 for ready money. Every man we asked to hold 
 stakes instantly whipped out his own pocket- 
 book, went in search of Lusk, and disqualified 
 himself. It was Jode helped us out. He would 
 103 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 not bet, but was anxious to serve, and thus pun- 
 ish the bragging Lusk. 
 
 Sunday was, as usual, chronically fine, with n(i 
 cloud or breeze anywhere, and by the time the 
 church-bells were ringing, ten to one was freely 
 offered. The biscuit-shooter went to church 
 with her friends, so she might wear her fine 
 clothes in a worthy place, while her furloughed 
 husband rushed about Cheyenne, entirely h.r3 
 own old self again, his wad of money staked and 
 in Jode's keeping. Many citizens bitterly la- 
 mented their lack of ready money. But it was 
 a good thing for these people that it was Sunday, 
 and the banks closed. 
 
 The church-bells ceased; the congregations sat 
 inside, but outside the hot town showed no Sun- 
 day emptiness or quiet. The metal tube, the 
 possible smell, Jode's sustained and haughty in- 
 dignation, the extraordinary assurance of Lusk, 
 all this had ended by turning every one restless 
 and eccentric. A citizen came down the street 
 with an umbrella. In a moment the by-standers 
 had reduced it to a sordid tangle of ribs. Old 
 Judge Burrage attempted to address us at the 
 comer about the vast progress of science. The 
 postmaster pinned a card on his back with the 
 well-known legend, "I am somewhat of a Uar 
 myself." And all the while the sun shone high 
 and hot, while Jode grew quieter and colder un- 
 der the certainty of victory. It was after twelve 
 o'clock when the people came from church, and 
 no change or sign was to be seen. Jode tolc? »*i 
 
 I04. 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 with a chill smile, that he had visited his instru< 
 ments and found no new indications. Fifteen 
 minutes after that the sky was brown. Sudden, 
 padded, dropsical clouds were bom in the blue 
 above our heads. They blackened, and a smart 
 shower, the first in two months, wet us all, and 
 ceased. The sun blazed out, and the sky came 
 blue again, like those rapid, unconvincing weather 
 changes of the drama. 
 
 Amazement at what I saw happening in the 
 heavens took me from things on earth, and I was 
 unaware of the universal fit that now seized upon 
 Cheyenne until I heard the high cry of Jode at 
 my ear. His usual punctilious bearing had for- 
 saken him, and he shouted alike to stranger and 
 acquaintance: "It is no half -inch, sir! Don't you 
 tell me!" And the crowd would swallow him, 
 but you could mark his vociferous course as he 
 went proclaiming to the world: "A failure, sir! 
 The fellow's an imposter, as I well knew. It's no 
 half-inch!" Which was true. 
 
 "What have you got to say to that?" we asked 
 Hilbrun, swarming around him. 
 
 "If you'll just keep cool," said he — "it's only 
 the first instalment. In about two hours and a 
 half I'll give you the rest." 
 
 Soon after four the dropsical clouds material- 
 ized once again above open-mouthed Cheyenne. 
 No school let out for an unexpected holiday, no 
 herd of stampeded range cattle, conducts itself 
 more . miscellaneously. Gray, respectable men, 
 with daughters married, leaped over fences and 
 
 TOS 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 sprang back, prominent legislators hopped howl 
 ing up and down door-steps, women waved hand- 
 kerchiefs from windows and porches, the chatter- 
 ing Jode flew from anemometer to rain-gauge, 
 and old Judge Burrage apostrophized Providence 
 in his front yard, with the postmaster's label still 
 pinned to his back. Nobody minded the sluicing 
 downpour — ^this second instalment was much 
 more of a thing than the first — and Hilbrun 
 alone kept a calm exterior — the face of the man 
 who lifts a heavy dumb-bell and throws an im- 
 pressive glance at the audience. Assistant Lusk 
 was by no means thus proof against success. I 
 saw him put a bottle back in his pocket, his face 
 already disintegrated with a tipsy leer. Judge 
 Burrage, perceiving the rain-maker, came out of 
 his gate and proceeded towards him, extend- 
 ing the hand of congratulation. "Mr. Hil- 
 brun," said he, "I am Judge Burrage — the Hon- 
 orable T. Coleman Burrage — and I will say that 
 I am most favorably impressed with your shower." 
 
 "His shower!" yelped Jode, flourishing meas- 
 urements. 
 
 "Why, 3ni' don't claim it's yourn, do yn'?" said 
 Lin McLean, grinning. 
 
 "I tell you it's no half-inch yet, gentlemen," 
 said Jode, ignoring the facetious puncher. 
 
 "You're mistaken," said Hilbrun, sharply. 
 
 "It's a plumb big show, half -inch or no half- 
 inch," said Lin. 
 
 "If he's short he don't get his money," said 
 some ignoble subscriber. 
 
 io6 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Yes, he will," said the Governor, "or I'm a 
 shote. He's earned it." 
 
 "You bet!" said Lin. "Fair and square. If 
 they're goin' back on yn', doctor, I'll chip — 
 Shucks!" Lin's hand fell from the empty pocket; 
 he remembered his wad in the stake-holder's 
 hands, and that he now possessed possibly two 
 dollars in silver, all told. "I can't chip in, doc- 
 tor," he said. "That hobo over there has won 
 my cash, an' he's filling up on the prospect right 
 now. I don't care! It's the biggest show I've 
 ever saw. You're a dandy, Mr. Hilbrun! Whoop!" 
 And Lin clapped the rain-maker on the shoulder, 
 exulting. He had been too well entertained to 
 care what he had in his pocket, and his wife had 
 not yet occxmred to him. 
 
 They were disputing about the rainfall, which 
 had been slightly under half an inch in a few 
 spots, but over it in many others; and while we 
 stood talking in the renewed sunlight, more tele- 
 grams were brought to Jode, saying that there 
 was no moisture anywhere, and simultaneously 
 with these, riders dashed into town with the news 
 that twelve miles out the rain had flattened the 
 grain crop. We had more of such reports from 
 as far as thirty miles, and beyond that there had 
 not been a drop or a cloud. It staggered one's 
 reason; the brain was numb with surprise. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," said the rain-maker, "I'm 
 
 packed up, and my train '11 be along soon — would 
 
 have been along by this, only it's late. What's the 
 
 word as to my three hundred and fifty dollars ?" 
 
 107 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Even still there were objections expressed. He 
 had not entirely performed his side of the con- 
 tract. 
 
 "I think different, gentlemen," said he. "But 
 I'll unpack and let that train go. I can't have 
 the law on you, I suppose. But if you don't pay 
 me" (the rain-maker put his hands in his pockets 
 and leaned against the fence) "I'll flood your 
 town." 
 
 In earthquakes and eruptions people end by 
 expecting anything; and in the total eclipse that 
 was now over all Cheyenne's ordinary standards 
 and precedents the bewildered community saw in 
 this threat nothing more unusual than if he had 
 said twice two made four. The purse was hand- 
 ed over. 
 
 "I'm obliged," said Hilbrun, simply. 
 
 "If I had foreseen, gentlemen," said Jode, too 
 deeply grieved now to feel anger, "that I would 
 even be in&irectly associated with yotir losing 
 your money through this — this absurd occur- 
 rence, I would have declined to help you. It be- 
 comes my duty," he continued, turning coldly to 
 the inebriated Lusk, "to hand this to you, sir." 
 And the assistant lurchingly stuffed his stakes 
 away. 
 
 "It's worth it," said Lin. "He's welcome to 
 my cash." 
 
 "What's that you say, Lin McLean?" It was 
 the biscuit-shooter, and she surged to the front. 
 
 "I'm broke. He's got it. That's all," said Lin, 
 briefly. 
 
 io8 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Broke! You!" She glared at her athletic 
 - young lord, and she uttered a preliminary howl. 
 
 At that long-lost cry Lusk turned his silly face. 
 " It's my darling Kate," he said. "Why, Kate!" 
 
 The next thing that I knew Ogden and I were 
 grappling with Lin McLean; for everything had 
 happened at once. The bride had swooped upon 
 her first wedded love and burst into tears on the 
 man's neck, which Lin was trying to break in 
 consequence. We do not always recognize our 
 benefactors at sight. They all came to the 
 ground, and we hauled the second husband off. 
 The lady and Lusk remained in a heap, he fool- 
 ish, tearful, and affectionate ; she turned furiously 
 at bay, his guardian angel, indifferent to the on- 
 looking crowd, and hurUng righteous defiance at 
 Lin. "Don't yus dare lay yer finger on my hus- 
 band, you sage-brush bigamist!" is what the mar- 
 vellous female said. 
 
 "Bigamist ?" repeated Lin, dazed at this charge. 
 "I ain't," he said to Ogden and me. "I never 
 did. I've never married any of 'em before her." 
 
 "Little good that'll do 3nis, Lin McLean! Me 
 and him was man and wife before ever I come 
 acrosst yns." 
 
 "You and him?" murmured the puncher. 
 
 "Her and me," whimpered Lusk. "Sidney." 
 He sat up with a limp, confiding stare at every- 
 body. 
 
 "Sidney who?" said Lin. 
 
 "No, no," corrected Lusk, crossly — "Sidney, 
 Nebraska." 
 
 109 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 The stakes at this point fell from his pocket 
 which he did not notice. But the bride h4d them 
 in safe-keeping at once. 
 
 "Who are yu', anyway — ^when yu' ain't drunk ?" 
 demanded Lin. 
 
 "He's as good a man as you, and better," snort- 
 ed the guardian angel. "Give him a pistol, and 
 he'll make you hard to find." 
 
 "Well, you listen to me, Sidney Nebraska — " 
 Lin began. 
 
 "No, no," corrected Lusk once more, as a dis- 
 tant whistle blew — "Tim." 
 
 I. •' , 
 
 "Good-bye, gentlemen," said the ram-maker. 
 "That's the west-bound. I'm perfectly satisfied 
 with my experiment here, and I'm oflE to repeat 
 it at Salt Lake City." 
 
 "You are?" shouted Lin McLean. "Him and 
 Jim's going to work it again! For goodness' 
 sake, somebody lend me twenty-five dollars!" 
 
 At this there was an instantaneous rush. Ten 
 minutes later, in front of the ticket-windows, 
 there was a line of citizens buying tickets for 
 Salt Lake as if it had been Madame Bernhardt. 
 Some rock had been smitten, and ready money 
 had flowed forth. The Governor saw us off, sad 
 that his duties should detain him. But Jode went! 
 
 "Betting is the fool's argument, gentlemen," 
 said he to Ogden, McLean, and me, "and it's a 
 weary time since I have had the pleasure." 
 
 "Which way are jru' bettin' ?" Lin asked. 
 
 "With my principles, sir," answered the little 
 signal-ser-vice officer. 
 
 no 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "I expect I 'ain't got any," said the puncher. 
 "It's Jim I'm backin' this time." 
 
 "See here," said I; "I want to talk to you." 
 We went into another car, and I did. 
 
 "And so yu' knowed about Lusk when we was 
 on them board walks?" the puncher said. 
 
 "Do you mean I ought to have — " 
 
 "Shucks! no. Yu' couldn't. Nobody couldn't. 
 It's a queer world all the same. Yu' have good 
 friends, and all that." He looked out of the win- 
 dow. "Laramie already!" he commented, and 
 got out and walked by himself on the platform 
 until we had started again. "Yu' have good 
 friends," he pursued, settling himself so his long 
 legs were stretched and comfortable, "and they 
 tell yu' things, and you tell them things. And 
 when it don't make no particular matter one way 
 or the other, yu' give 'em your honest opinion 
 and talk straight to 'em, and they'll come to you 
 the same way. So that when yu're ridin' the 
 range alone sometimes, and thinldn' a lot o' 
 things over on top maybe of some dog-goned 
 hill, you'll say to yourself about some fellow yu' 
 know mighty well, 'There's a man is a good friend 
 of mine.' And ya' mean it. And it's so. Yet 
 when matters is serious, as onced in a while 
 they're bound to get, and jm're in a plumb hole, 
 where is the man then — your good friend ? Why, 
 he's where yu' want him to be. Standin' off, 
 keepin' his mouth shut, and lettin' yu' find your 
 own trail out. If he tried to show it to yu', joi'd 
 likely hit him. But shucks! Circumstances have 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 showed me the trail this time, you bet!" And 
 the puncher's face, which had been sombre, grew 
 hvely, and he laid a friendly hand on my 
 knee. 
 
 "The trail's pretty simple," said I. 
 
 "You bet! But it's sure a queer world. Tell 
 yu'," said Lin, with the air of having made a dis- 
 covery, "when a man gets down to bed-rock af- 
 fairs in this life he's got to do his travellin' alone, 
 same as he does his dyin'. I expect even married 
 men has thoughts and hopes they don't tell their 
 wives." 
 
 "Never was married," said I. 
 
 "Well — no more was I. Let's go to bed." And 
 Lin shook my hand, and gave me a singular, 
 rather melancholy smile. 
 
 At Salt Lake City, which Ogden was glad to in- 
 clude in his Western holiday, we found both Mor- 
 mon and Gentile ready to give us odds against 
 rain — only I noticed that those of the true faith 
 were less free. Indeed, the Mormon, the Quaker, 
 and most sects of an isolated doctrine have a nice 
 prudence in money. During our brief stay we 
 visited the sights: floating in the lake, listening 
 to pins drop in the gallery of the Tabernacle, 
 seeing frescos of saints in robes speaking from 
 heaven to Joseph Smith in the Sunday clothes of 
 a modem farm-hand, and in the street we heard 
 at a distance a strenuous domestic talk between 
 the new — or perhaps I should say the original — 
 husband and wife. 
 
 'She's corralled Sidney's cash!" said the de- 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 lighted Lin. "He can't bet nothing on thia 
 shower." 
 
 And then, after all, this time — it didn't rain! 
 
 Stripped of money both ways, Cheyenne, hav- 
 ing most fortunately purchased a return ticket, 
 sought its home. The perplexed rain-maker went 
 somewhere else, without his assistant. Lusk's 
 exulting wife, having the money, retained him 
 with her. 
 
 "Good luck to yu', Sidney!" said Lin, speaking 
 to him for the first time since Cheyenne. "I feel 
 a heap better since I've saw yu' married." He 
 paid no attention to the biscuit-shooter, or the 
 horrible language that she threw after him. 
 
 Jode also felt "a heap better." Legitimate 
 science had triumphed. To-day, most of Chey- 
 enne believes with Jode that it was all a coinci- 
 dence. South Carolina had bet on her principles, 
 and won from Lin the few dollars that I had lent 
 the puncher. 
 
 "And what will you do now?" I said to Lin. 
 
 "Join the beef round-up. Balaam's payin' 
 forty dollars. I guess that 'II keep a single man." 
 
VIII 
 
 IN SEARCH OF CHRISTMAS 
 
 The Governor descended the steps of the Capi« 
 tol slowly and with pauses, lifting a list frequently 
 ti' his eye. He had intermittently pencilled it 
 between stages of the forenoon's public business, 
 and his gait grew absent as he recurred now to 
 his jottings in their accumulation, with a slight 
 pain at their number, and the definite fear that 
 they would be more in seasons to come. They 
 were the names of his friends' children to whom 
 his excellent heart moved him to give Christmas 
 presents. He had put off this regenerating evil 
 until the latest day, as was his custom, and now 
 he was setting forth to do the whole thing at a 
 blow, entirely planless among the guns and rock- 
 ing-horses that would presently surround him. 
 As he reached the highway he heard himself fa- 
 miliarly addressed from a distance, and, turning, 
 saw four sons of the alkali jogging into town from 
 the plain. One who had shouted to him galloped 
 out from the others, rounded the Capitol's enclos- 
 ure, and, approaching with radiant countenanse, 
 leaned to reach the hand of the Governor, and once 
 again greeted him with a hilarious "Hello, Docl" 
 
 114 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Governor Barker, M.D., seeing Mr. McLean un- 
 expectedly after several years, hailed the horse- 
 man with frank and lively pleasure, and, inquir- 
 ing who might be the other riders behind, was 
 told that they were Shorty, Chalkeye, and Dollar 
 Bill, come for Christmas. "And dandies to hit 
 town with," Mr. McLean added. "Red-hot." 
 
 "I am acquainted with them," assented his 
 Excellency. 
 
 "We've been ridin' trail for twelve weeks," the 
 cow-puncher continued, "makin' our beds down 
 anywheres, and eatin' the same old chuck every 
 day. So we've shook fried beef and heifer's de- 
 light, and we're goin' to feed high." 
 
 Then Mr. McLean overflowed with talk and 
 pungent confidences, for the holidays already 
 rioted in his spirit, and his tongue was loosed 
 over their coming rites. 
 
 "We've soured on scenery," he finished, in his 
 drastic idiom. "We're sick of moonlight and 
 cow-dung, and we're heeled for a big time." 
 
 "Call on me," remarked the Governor, cheerily, 
 "when you're ready for bromides and sulphates." 
 
 "I 'ain't box-headed no more," protested Mr. 
 MrLean; "I've got maturity, Doc, since I seen 
 yu' at the rain-making, and I'm a heap older than 
 them hospital days when I bust my leg on yu'. 
 Three or four glasses and quit. That's my rule." 
 
 "That your rule, too?" inquired the Governor 
 of Shorty, Chalkeye, and Dollar Bill. These gen- 
 tlemen of the saddle were sitting quite expres- 
 sionless upon their horses. 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "We ain't talkin', we're waitin'," observed 
 Chalkeye ; and the three cynics smiled amiably. 
 
 "Well, Doc, see yu' again," said Mr. McLean. 
 He turned to accompany his brother cow-punch- 
 ers, but in that particular moment Fate descend- 
 ed or came up from whatever place she dwells 
 in and entered the body of the unsuspecting Gov- 
 ernor. 
 
 "What's your hurry?" said Fate, speaking .in 
 the official's hearty manner. "Come along with 
 me." 
 
 "Can't do it. Where 're yu' goin'?" 
 
 "Christmasing," replied Fate. 
 
 "Well, I've got to feed my horse. Christmas- 
 ing, jni' say?" 
 
 "Yes; I'm buying toys." 
 
 "Toys! You? What for?" 
 
 "Oh, some kids." 
 
 "Yourn?" screeched Lin, precipitately. 
 
 His Excellency the jovial Governor opened his 
 teeth in pleasure at this, for he was a bachelor, 
 and there were fifteen upon his list, which he 
 held up for the edification of the hasty McLean. 
 "Not mine, I'm happy to say. My friends keep 
 marrying and settling, and their kids call me 
 uncle, and climb around and bother, and I forget 
 their names, and think it's a girl, and the mother 
 gets mad. Why, if I didn't remember these little 
 folks at Christmas they'd be wondering — not the 
 kids, they just break your toys and don't notice; 
 but the mother would wonder — -'What's the mat- 
 ter with Dr. Barker ? Has Governor Barker gone 
 ii6 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 back on us?' — that's where the strain comes!" he 
 broke off, facing Mr, McLean with another spa- 
 cious laugh. 
 
 But the cow-puncher had ceased to smile, and 
 now, while Barker ran on exuberantly, McLean's 
 wide-open eyes rested on him, singular and in- 
 tent, and in their hazel depths the last gleam of 
 jocularity went out. 
 
 "That's where the strain comes, you see. Two 
 sets of acquaintances. Grateful patients and loyal 
 voters, and I've got to keep solid with both out- 
 fits, especially the wives and mothers. They're 
 the people. So it's drums, and dolls, and sheep 
 on wheels, and games, and monkeys on a stick, 
 and the saleslady shows you a mechanical bear, 
 and it costs too much, and you forget whether the 
 Judge's second girl is Nellie or Susie, and — well, 
 I'm just in for my annual circus this afternoon! 
 You're in luck. Christmas don't trouble a chap 
 fixed like you." 
 
 Lin McLean prolonged the sentence like a dis- 
 tant echo. 
 
 "A chap fixed like you!" The cow-puncher 
 said it slowly to himself. " No, sure." He seemed 
 to be watching Shorty, and Chalkeye, and Dollar 
 Bill going down the road. "That a new idea — 
 Christmas," he murmured, for it was one of his 
 oldest, and he was recalling the Christmas when 
 he wore his first long trousers. 
 
 "Comes once a year pretty regular," remarked 
 the prosperous Governor. "Seems often when 
 you pay the bill." 
 
 "7 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "I haven't made a Christmas gift," purstied the 
 cow-puncher, dreamily, "not for — ^for — Lord! it's 
 a hundred years, I guess. I don't know any- 
 body that has any right to look for such a thing 
 from me." This was indeed a new idea, and it 
 did not stop the chill that was spreading in his 
 heart. 
 
 "Gee whiz!" said Barker, briskly, "there goes 
 twelve o'clock. I've got to make a start. Sorry 
 you can't come and help me. Good-bye!" 
 
 His Excellency left the rider sitting motionless, 
 and forgot him at once in his own preoccupation. 
 He hastened upon his journey to the shops with 
 the list, not in his pocket, but held firmly, like a 
 plank in the imminence of shipwreck. "The Nel- 
 lies and Susies pervaded his mind, and he strug- 
 gled with the presentiment that in a day or two 
 he would recall some omitted and wretchedly im- 
 portant child. Quick hoof-beats made him look 
 up, and Mr. McLean passed like a wind. The 
 Governor absently watched him go, and saw the 
 pony hunch and stiffen in the check of his speed 
 when Lin overtook his companions. Down there 
 in the distance they took a side street, and Barker 
 rejoicingly remembered one more name and wrote 
 it as he walked. In a few minutes he had come 
 to the shops, and met face to face with Mr. 
 McLean. 
 
 "The boys are seein' after my horse," Lin 
 
 rapidly began, "and I've got to meet 'em sharp 
 
 at one. We're twelve weeks shy on a square 
 
 meal, jru' see, and this first has been a date from 
 
 ii8 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 'way back. I'd like to — " Here Mr. McLean 
 cleared his throat, and his speech went less 
 smoothly, "Doc, I'd like just for a while to 
 watch 3m' gettin' — them monkeys, yu' know." 
 
 The Governor expressed his agreeable surprise 
 at this change of mind, and was glad of McLean's 
 company and judgment during the impending 
 selections. A picture of a cow-puncher and him- 
 self discussing a couple of dolls rose nimbly in 
 Barker's mental eye, and it was with an imper- 
 fect honesty that he said, "You'll help me a 
 heap." 
 
 And Lin, quite sincere, replied, "Thank yu'." 
 
 So together these two went Christmasing in 
 the throng. Wyoming's Chief Executive knocked 
 elbows with the spurred and jingling waif, one 
 man as good as another in that raw, hopeful, 
 full-blooded cattle era, which now the sobered 
 West remembers as the days of its fond youth. 
 For one man has been as good as another in three 
 places — Paradise before 'the Fall; the Rocky 
 Mountains before the wire fence; and the Dec- 
 laration of Independence. And then this Gov- 
 ernor, beside being young, almost as young as 
 Lin McLean er the Chief Justice (who lately had 
 celebrated his thirty-second birthday),' had in 
 his doctoring days at Drybone known the cow- 
 puncher with that familiarity which lasts a life- 
 time without breeding contemp.t; accordingly he 
 now laid a hand on Lin's tall shoulder and drew 
 him among the petticoats and toys. 
 
 Christmas filled the windows, and Christmas 
 119 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 stirred in mankind. Cheyenne, not over-zealous 
 in doctrine or litanies, and with the opinion that 
 a world in the hand is worth two in the bush, 
 nevertheless was flocking together, neighbor to 
 thiak of neighbor, and every one to remember 
 the children; a sacred assembly, after all, gath- 
 ered to rehearse unwittingly the articles of its 
 belief, the Creed and Doctrine of the Child. Lin 
 saw them hurry and smile among the paper 
 fairies; they questioned and hesitated, crowded 
 and made decisions, failed utterly to find the 
 right thing, forgot and hastened back, suffered 
 all the various desperations of the eleventh hour, 
 and turned homeward, dropping their parcels 
 with that undimmed good-will that once a year 
 makes gracious the universal human face. This 
 brotherhood swam and beamed before the cow- 
 puncher's brooding eyes, and in his .ears the 
 greeting of the season sang. Children escaped 
 from their mothers and ran chirping behind the 
 counters to touch and meddle in places forbidden. 
 Friends dashed against each other with rabbits 
 and magic lanterns, greeted in haste, and were 
 gone, amid the sound of musical boxes. 
 
 Through this tinkle and bleating of little 
 machinery the murmur of the human heart drift- 
 ed in and out of McLean's hearing; fragments 
 of home talk, tendernesses, economies, intimate 
 first names, and dinner hours; and whether it 
 was joy or sadness, it was in common; the world 
 seemed knit in a single skein of home ties. Two 
 or three came by whose purses must have been 
 1 20 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 slender, and whose purchases were humble and 
 chosen after much nice adjustment; and when 
 one plain man dropped a word about both ends 
 meeting, and the woman with him laid a hand on 
 his arm, saying that his children must not feel 
 this jrear was difEerent, Lin made a step toward 
 them. There were hours and spots where he 
 could readily have descended upon them at that, 
 played the rdle of clinking afHuence, waved 
 thanks aside with competent blasphemy, and 
 tossing off some infamous whiskey, cantered 
 away in the full self-conscious strut of the fron- 
 tier. But here was not the moment; the abashed 
 cow-puncher could make no such parade in this 
 place. The people brushed by him back and 
 forth, busy upon their errands, and aware of him 
 scarcely more than if he had been a spirit looking 
 on from the hopeless dead; and so, while these 
 weaving needs and kindnesses of men were with- 
 in arm's touch of him, he was locked outside with 
 his impulses. Barker had, in the natural press 
 of customers, long parted from him, to become 
 immersed in choosing and rejecting; and now, 
 with a fair part of his mission accomplished, he 
 was ready to go on to the next place, and turned 
 to beckon McLean. He found him obliterated 
 in a comer beside a lifcrsized image of Santa 
 Claus, standing as still as the frosty saint. 
 
 " He looks liveUer than you do," said the hearty 
 Governor. " 'Fraid it's been slow waiting." 
 
 "No," replied the cow-puncher, thoughtfully. 
 "No, I guess not." 
 
 121 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 This uncertainty was expressed with such 
 gentleness that Barker roared. "You never did 
 lie to me," he said, "long as I've known you. 
 Well, never mind. I've got some real advice to 
 ask you now." 
 
 At this Mr. McLean's face grew more alert. 
 "Say, Doc," said he, "what do yu' want for 
 Christmas that nobody's likely to give yu'.?" 
 
 "A big practice — big enough to interfere with 
 my poUtics." 
 
 "What else? Things and truck, I mean." 
 
 " Oh — ^nothing I'll get. People don't give things 
 much to fellows like me." 
 
 " Don't they ? Don't they ?" 
 
 "Why, you and Santa Glaus weren't putting 
 up any scheme on my stocking?" 
 
 "Well—" 
 
 "I believe you're in earnest!" cried his Excel- 
 lency. "That's simply rich!" Here was a thing 
 to relish! The Frontier comes to town "heeled 
 for a big time," finds that presents are all the 
 rage, and must immediately give somebody some- 
 thing. Oh, childUke, miscellaneous Frontier! 
 So thought the good-hearted Governor; and it 
 seems a venial misconception. " My dear fellow," 
 he added, meaning as well as possible, "I don't 
 want you to spend your money on me." 
 
 "I've got plenty all right," said Lin, shortly. 
 
 "Plenty's not the point. I'll take as many 
 drinks as you please with you. You didn't ex- 
 pect anything from me ?" 
 
 "That ain't— that don't—" 
 
 122 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "There! Of course you didn't. Then, what 
 axe you getting proud about? Here's our shop." 
 They stepped in from the street to new crowds 
 and counters. "Now," pursued the Governor, 
 "this is for a very particular friend of mine. Here 
 they are. Now, which of those do you Uke best ?" 
 
 They were sets of Tennyson in cases holding 
 little volumes equal in number, but the binding 
 various, and Mr. McLean reached his decision 
 after one look. "That," said he, and laid a large 
 muscular hand upon the Laureate. The young 
 lady behind the counter spoke out acidly, and Lin 
 pulled the abject hand away. His taste, however, 
 happened to be sound, or, at least, it was at one 
 with the Governor's; but now they learned that 
 there was a distressing variance in the matter of 
 price. 
 
 The Governor stared at the delicate article of 
 his choice. " I know that Tennyson is what she — 
 is what's wanted," he muttered; and, feeling him- 
 self nudged, looked around and saw Lin's extend- 
 ed fist. This gesture he took for a facetious sym- 
 pathy, and, dolorously grasping the hand, found 
 himself holding a lump of bills. Sheer amaze- 
 ment relaxed him, and the cow-puncher's matted 
 wealth tumbled on the floor in sight of all people. 
 Barker picked it up and gave it back. "No, no, 
 no!" he said, mirthful over his own inclination to 
 be annoyed; "you can't do that. I'm just as 
 much obliged, Lin," he added. 
 
 "Just as a loan. Doc — some of it. I'm grass- 
 bellied with spot-cash." 
 
 123 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 A giggle behind the counter disturbed them 
 both, but the sharp young lady was only dusting. 
 The Governor at once paid haughtily for Ten- 
 nyson's expensive works, and the cow-puncher 
 pushed his discountenanced savings back into 
 his clothes. Making haste to leave the book de- 
 partment of this shop, they regained a mutual 
 ease, and the Governor became waggish over Lin's 
 concern at being too rich. He suggested to him 
 the list of delinquent taxpayers and the latest 
 census from which to select indigent persons. He 
 had patients, too, whose inveterate pennilessness 
 he could swear cheerfully to — "since you want to 
 bolt from your own money," he remarked. 
 
 "Yes, I'm a green horse," assented Mr. McLean, 
 gallantly; "ain't used to the looks of a twenty- 
 dollar bill, and I shy at 'em." 
 
 From his face — ^that jocular mask — one might 
 have counted him the most serene and careless 
 of vagrants, and in his words only the oi-dinary 
 voice of banter spoke to the Governor. A good 
 woman, it may well be, would have guessed be- 
 fore this the sensitive soul in the blundering 
 body; but Barker saw just the familiar, whimsi- 
 cal, happy-go-lucky McLean of old days, and so 
 he went gayly and innocently on, treading upon 
 holy ground. "I've got it!" he exclaimed; "give 
 your wife something." 
 
 The ruddy cow-puncher grinned. He had 
 passed through the world of women with but few 
 delays, rejoicing in informal and transient entan- 
 glements, and he welcomed the turn which the 
 124 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 conversation seemed now to be taking. ' ' If you'll 
 give me her name and address," said he, with the 
 future entirely in his mind. 
 
 "Why, Laramie!" and the Governor feigned 
 surprise. 
 
 "Say, Doc," said Lin, uneasily, "none of 'em 
 'ain't married me since I saw yii' last." 
 
 "Then she hasn't written from Laramie," said 
 the hilarious Governor; and Mr. McLean under- 
 stood and winced in his spirit deep down. "Gee 
 whiz!" went on Barker, "I'll never forget you 
 and Lusk that day!" 
 
 But the mask fell now. "You're talking of his 
 wife, not mine," said the cow-puncher very quiet- 
 ly, and smiling no more; "and, Doc, I'm going to 
 say a word to yu', for I know yu've always been 
 my good friend. I'll never forget that day my- 
 self — ^but I don't want to be reminded of it." 
 
 "I'm a fool, Lin," said the Governor, generous 
 instantly. "I never supposed — " 
 
 "I know yu' didn't. Doc. It ain't you that's 
 the fool. And in a way — ^in a way — " Lin's 
 speech ended among his crowding memories, and 
 Barker, seeing how wistful his face had turned, 
 waited. "But I ain't quite the same fool I was 
 before that happened to me," the cow-puncher 
 resumed, "though maybe my actions don't show 
 to be wiser. I know that there was better luck 
 than a man like me had any call to look for." 
 
 The sobered Barker said, simply, "Yes, Lin." 
 He was put to thinking by these words from the 
 unsuspected inner man. 
 
 125 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Is she with him?" Lin now asked Barker, and 
 musingly listened while Barker told him. The 
 Governor had thought to make it a racy story, 
 with the moral that the joke was now on Lusk; 
 but that inner man had spoken and revealed the 
 cow-puncher to him in a new and complicated 
 light; hence he quieted the proposed lively ca- 
 dence and vocabulary of his anecdote about the 
 house of Lusk, but instead of narrating how Mrs. 
 beat Mr. on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, 
 and Mr. took his turn the odd days, thus getting 
 one ahead of his lady, while the kid Lusk had out- 
 lined liis opinion of the family by recently skip- 
 ping to parts unknown, Barker detailed these 
 incidents more gravely, adding that Laramie be- 
 Ueved Mrs. Lusk addicted to opium. 
 
 "I don't guess I'll leave my card on 'em," said 
 McLean, grimly, "if I strike Laramie." 
 
 "You don't mind my saying I think you're well 
 out of that scrape ?" Barker ventured. 
 
 "Shucks, no! That's all right, Doc. Only-- 
 yu' see now. A man gets tired pretending — onced 
 in a while." 
 
 Time had gone while they were in talk, and it 
 was now half after one and Mr. McLean late for 
 that long-plotted first square meal. So the friends 
 shook hands, wishing each other Merry Christ- 
 mas, and the cow-puncher hastened toward his 
 chosen companions through the stirring cheerful- 
 ness of the season. His play-hour had made a 
 dull beginning among the toys. He had come 
 upon people engaged in a pleasant game, and 
 126 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 waited, shy and well disposed, for some bidding 
 to join, but they had gone on playing with one 
 another and left him out. And now he went along 
 in a sort of hurry to escape from that loneliness 
 where his human promptings had been lodged 
 with him useless. Here was Cheyenne, full of 
 holiday for sale, and he with his pockets full of 
 money to buy; and when he thought of Shorty, 
 and Chalkeye, and Dollar Bill, those dandies to hit 
 a town with, he stepped out with a brisk, false 
 hope. It was with a mental hurrah and a fore- 
 taste of a good time coming that he put on his 
 town clothes, after shaving and admiring himself, 
 and sat down to the square meal. He ate away 
 and drank with a robust imitation of enjoyment 
 that took in even himself at first. But the sor- 
 rowful process of his spirit went on, for all he 
 could do. As he groped for the contentment 
 which he saw around him he began to receive the 
 jokes with counterfeit mirth. Memories took the 
 place of anticipation, and through their moody 
 shiftings he began to feel a distaste for the com- 
 pany of his friends and a shrinking from their 
 lively voices. He blamed them for this at once. 
 He was surprised to think he had never recog- 
 nized before how light a weight was Shorty; and 
 here was Chalkeye, who knew better, talking re- 
 ligion after two glasses. Presently this attack of 
 noticing his friends' shortcomings mastered him, 
 and his mind, according to its wont, changed at 
 a stroke. "I'm celebrating no Christmas with 
 this crowd," said the inner man; and when they 
 127 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 had next remembered Lin McLean in their hilar- 
 ity he was gone. 
 
 Governor Barker, finishing his purchases at 
 half-past three, went to meet a friend come from 
 Evanston. Mr, McLean was at the railway sta- 
 tion, bujdng a ticket for Denver. 
 
 "Denver!" exclaimed the amazed Governor. 
 
 "That's what I said," stated Mr, McLean, dog- 
 gedly. 
 
 "Gee whiz!" went his Excellency. "What are 
 you going to do there ?" 
 
 "Get good and drunk." 
 
 "Can't you find enough whiskey in Chey- 
 enne?" 
 
 "I'm drinking champagne this trip." 
 
 The cow-puncher went out on the platform and 
 got aboard, and the train moved off. Barker 
 had walked out too in his surprise, and as 
 he stared after the last car, Mr. McLean waved 
 his wide hat defiantly and went inside the 
 door. 
 
 "And he says he's got matiirity," Barker mut- 
 tered. "I've known him since seventy-nine, and 
 he's kept about eight years old right along." The 
 Governor was cross, and sorry, and presently 
 crosser. His jokes about Lin's marriage came 
 back to him and put him in a rage with the de- 
 parted fool. "Yes, about eight. Or six," said 
 his Excellency, justifying himself by the past. 
 For he had first known Lin, the boy of nineteen, 
 supreme in length of limb and recklessness, break- 
 ing horses and feehng for an early mustache. 
 128 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 Next, when the mustache was nearly accom- 
 plished, he had mended the boy's badly broken 
 thigh at Drybone. His skill (and Lin's titter 
 health) had wrought so swift a healing tbat the 
 surgeon overflowed with the pride of science, and 
 over the bandages would explain the human body 
 technically to his wild-eyed and flattered patient. 
 Thus young Lin heard all about tibia, and com- 
 minuted, and other glorious new words, and when 
 sleepless would rehearse them. Then, with the 
 bone so nearly knit that the patient might leave 
 the ward on crutches to sit each morning in 
 Barker's room as a privilege, the disobedient child 
 of twenty-one had slipped out of the hospital and 
 hobbled hastily to the hog ranch, where whiskey 
 and variety waited for a languishing convalescent. 
 Here he grew gay, and was soon carried back with 
 the leg refractured. Yet Barker's surgical rage 
 was disarmed, the patient was so forlorn over his 
 doctor's professional chagrin. 
 
 "I suppose it ain't no better this morning, 
 Doc ?" he had said, humbly, after a new week of 
 bed and weights. 
 
 "Your right leg's going to be shorter. That's 
 all." 
 
 "Oh, gosh! I've been and spoiled your com- 
 minuted fee-mur! Ain't I a son-of-a-gun?" 
 
 You could not chide such a boy as this; and 
 in time's due course he had walked jauntily out 
 into the world with legs of equal length after all, 
 and in his stride the slightest halt possible. And 
 Doctor Barker had missed the child's conversa- 
 
 9 i29 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 tion. To-day his mustache was a perfected thing, 
 and he in the late end of his twenties. 
 
 "He'll wake up about noon to-morrow in a divfe, 
 without a cent," said Barker. "Then he'll corns 
 back on a freight and begin over again." 
 
SANTA-CLAUS LIN 
 
 At the Denver station Lin McLean passed 
 through the shoutings and omnibuses, and came 
 to the beginning of Seventeenth Street, where is 
 the first saloon. A customer was ordering Hot 
 Scotch; and because he Uked the smell and had 
 not thought of the mixture for a number of 
 years, Lin took "Hot Scotch. Coming out upon 
 the pavement, he looked across and saw a saloon 
 opposite with brighter globes and windows more 
 prosperous. That should have been his choice; 
 lemon peel would undoubtedly be fresher over 
 there; and over he went at once, to begin the 
 whole thing properly. In such frozen weather 
 no drink could be more timely, and he sat, to en- 
 joy without haste its mellow fitness. Once again 
 on the pavement, he looked along the street tow- 
 ards up -town beneath the crisp, cold electric 
 lights, and three' little bootblacks gathered where 
 he stood and cried "Shine? Shine?" at him. 
 Remembering that you took the third turn to 
 the right to get the best dinner in Denver, Lin 
 hit on the skilful plan of stopping at aU Hot 
 Scotches between; but the next occurred within 
 131 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 a few yards, and it was across the street. This 
 one being attained and appreciated, he found 
 that he must cross back again or skip number 
 four. At this rate he would not be dining in 
 time to see much of the theatre, and he stopped 
 to consider. It was a German place he had just 
 quitted, and a huge light poured out on him from 
 its window, which the proprietor's father-land 
 sentiment had made into a show. Lights shone 
 among a well-set pine forest, where beery, jovial 
 gnomes sat on roots and reached upward to San- 
 ta Clans; he, grinning, fat, and Teutonic, held in 
 his right hand forever a foaming glass, and for- 
 ever in his left a string of sausages that dangled 
 down among the gnomes. With his American 
 back to this, the cow-puncher, wearing the same 
 serious, absent face he had not changed since he 
 ran away from himself at Cheyenne, considered 
 carefully the Hot Scotch question, and which 
 side of the road to take and stick to, while the 
 little bootblacks found him once more and cried, 
 "Shine ? Shine ?" monotonous as snow-birds. He 
 settled to stay over here with the south-side 
 Scotches, and the little one-note song reaching 
 his attention, he suddenly shoved his foot at the 
 nearest boy, who lightly sprang away. 
 
 "Dare you to touch him!" piped a snow-bird, 
 dangerously. They were in short trousers, and 
 the eldest enemy, it may be, was ten. 
 
 " Don't hit me," said Mr. McLean. " I'm inno 
 cent." 
 
 "Well, you leave him be," said one. 
 132 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "What's he layin* to kick you for, Billy? 
 'Tain't yer pop, is it?" 
 
 "Naw!" said Billy, in scorn. "Father never 
 kicked me. Don't know who he is." 
 
 "He's a special!" shrilled the leading bird, sen- 
 sationally "He's got a badge, and he's goin' to 
 arrest yer. 
 
 Two of them hopped instantly to the safe mid- 
 dle of the street, and scattered with practised 
 strategy; but Billy stood his ground. "Dare you 
 to arrest me!" said he. 
 
 "What '11 you give me not to?" inquired Lin, 
 and he put his hands in his pockets, arms akimbo. 
 
 "Nothing; I've done nothing," announced Bil- 
 ly, firmly. But even in the last syllable his voice 
 suddenly failed, a terror filled his eyes, and he, 
 too, sped into the middle of the street. 
 
 "What's he claim you lifted?" inquired the 
 leader, with eagerness. "Tell him you haven't 
 been inside a store to-day. We can prove it!" 
 they screamed to the special officer. 
 
 "Say," said the slow-spoken Lin from the pave- 
 ment, ' ' you're poor judges of a badge, you fellows. " 
 
 His tone pleased them where they stood, wide 
 apart from each other. 
 
 Mr. McLean also remained stationary in the 
 bltdsh illumination of the window. "Why, if any 
 policeman was caught wearin' this here," said he, 
 following his sprightly invention, "he'd get ar- 
 rested himself." 
 
 This struck them extremely. They began tc 
 draw together, Billy lingering the last. 
 133 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "If it's your idea," pursued Mr. McLean, al. 
 luringly, as the three took cautious steps nearer 
 the curb, "that blue, clasped hands in a circle of 
 red stars gives the bearer the right to put folks 
 in the jug — why, I'll get somebody else to black 
 my boots for a dollar." 
 
 The three made a swift rush, fell on simul- 
 taneous knees, and clattering their boxes down, 
 began to spit in an industrious circle. 
 
 "Easy!" wheedled Mr. McLean, and they looked 
 up at him, staring and fascinated. "Not having 
 three feet," said the cow-puncher, always >grave 
 and slow, "I can only give two this here job." 
 
 "He's got a big pistol and a belt!" exulted the 
 leader, who had precociously felt beneath Lin's 
 coat. 
 
 "You're a smart boy," said Lin, considering 
 him, "and yu' find a man out right away. Now 
 you stand off and tell me all about myself while 
 they fix the boots — and a dollar goes to the quick- 
 est through." 
 
 Young Billy and his tow-headed competitor 
 flattened down, each to a boot, with all their 
 might, while the leader ruefully contemplated 
 Mr. McLean. 
 
 "That's a Colt .45 you've got," ventured he. 
 
 "Right again. Some day, maybe, you'll be 
 wearing one of your own, if the angels don't pull 
 yu' before you're ripe." 
 
 "I'm through!" sang out Towhead, rising in 
 haste. 
 
 Small Billy, was struggling still but leaped at 
 134 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 that, the two heads bobbing to a level together; 
 and Mr. McLean, looking down, saw that the 
 arrangement had not been a good one for the 
 boots. 
 
 "Will you kindly referee," said he, forgivingly, 
 to the leader, "and decide which of them smears 
 is the awfulest?" 
 
 But the leader looked the other way and played 
 upon a mouth-organ. 
 
 "Well, that saves me money," said Mr. McLean, 
 jingUng his pocket. "I guess you've both won." 
 He handed each of them a dollar. "Now," he 
 continued, "I just dassent show these boots up- 
 town; so this time it's a dollar for the best shine." 
 
 The two went palpitating at their brushes 
 again, and the leader played his mouth-organ 
 with brilliant unconcern. Lin, tall and brooding, 
 leaned against the jutting sill of the window, a 
 figure somehow plainly strange in town, while 
 through the bright plate-glass Santa Claus, hold- 
 ing out his beer and sausages, perpetually beamed. 
 
 Billy was laboring gallantly, but it was labor, 
 the cow-puncher perceived, and Billy no seasoned 
 expert, ' ' See here,' ' said Lin, stooping, " I '11 show 
 jru' how it's done. He's playin' that toon cross- 
 eyed enough to steer anybody crooked. There. 
 Keep your blacking soft, and work with a dry 
 brush." 
 
 "Lemme," said Billy. "I've got to learn." 
 
 So he finished the boot his own way with wiry 
 
 determination, breathing and repolishing; and 
 
 this event was also adjudged a dead heat, with 
 
 135 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 results gratifying tcT both parties. So here was 
 their work done, and more money in their pock- 
 ets than from all the other boots and shoes of 
 this day; and Towhead and Billy did not wish for 
 further trade, but to spend this handsome fort- 
 une as soon as might be. Yet they delayed in 
 the brightness of the window, drawn by curiosity 
 near this new kind of man whose voice held 
 them and whose remarks dropped them into con- 
 stant uncertainty. Even the omitted leader had 
 been unable to go away and nurse his pride alone. 
 
 "Is that a secret society?" inquired Towhead, 
 lifting a finger at the badge. 
 
 Mr. McLean nodded. "Turruble," said he. 
 
 "You're a Wells & Fargo detective," asserted 
 the leader. 
 
 "Play your harp," said Lin. 
 
 "Are you a — a desperaydo?" whispered Tow- 
 head. 
 
 "Oh, my!" observed Mr. McLean, sadly; "what 
 has our Jack been readin' ?" 
 
 "He's a cattle-man!" cried Billy. "I seen his 
 heels." 
 
 "That's you!" said the discovered puncher, 
 with approval. " You '11 do. But I bet you can't 
 tell me what the wearers of this badge have sworn 
 to do this night." 
 
 At this they craned their necks and glared at 
 him. 
 
 "We— are — sworn — don't yu' jump, now, and 
 give me away — sworn — to — ^blow off three boot- 
 blacks to a dinner." 
 
 136 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Ah, pshaw!" They backed away, bristling, 
 with distrust. 
 
 "That's the oath, fellows. Yu' may as well 
 make your minds up — for I have it to do!" 
 
 "Dare you to! Ah!" 
 
 "And after dinner it's the Opera-house, to see 
 'The Children of Captain Grant'!" 
 
 They screamed shrilly at him, keeping off be- 
 yond the curb. 
 
 "I can't waste my time on such smart boys," 
 said Mr. McLean, rising lazily to his full height 
 from the window-sill. "I am goin' somewhere to 
 find boys that ain't so turruble quick stampeded 
 by a roast turkey." 
 
 He began to lounge slowly away, serious as he 
 had been throughout, and they, stopping their 
 noise short, swiftly picked up their boxes, and 
 followed him. Some change in the current of 
 electricity that fed the window disturbed the 
 sparkling light, so that Santa Claus, with his 
 arms stretched out behind the departing cow- 
 puncher, seemed to be smiling more broadly from 
 the midst of his flickering brilliance. 
 
 On their way to turkey, the host and his guests 
 exchanged but few remarks. He was full of 
 good- will, and threw off a comment or two that 
 would have led to conversation under almost any 
 circumstances save these; but the minds of the 
 guests were too distracted by this whole state of 
 things for them to be capable of more than keep- 
 ing after Mr. McLean in silence, at a wary inter- 
 val, and with their mouths, during most of the 
 137 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 journey, open. The badge, the pistol, their pa- 
 tron's talk, and the unusual dollars, wakened 
 wide their bent for the unexpected, their street 
 affinity for the spur of the moment; they be- 
 lieved slimly in the turkey part of it, but what 
 this man might do next, to be there when he did 
 it, and not to be trapped, kept their wits jump- 
 ing deliriously; so when they saw him stop, they 
 stopped instantly, too, ten feet out of reach. This 
 was Denver's most rivilized restaurant — that one 
 which Mr. McLean had remembered, with foreign 
 dishes and private rooms, where he had promised 
 himself, among other things, champagne. Mr. 
 McLean had never been inside it, but heard a 
 tale from a friend; and now he caught a sudden 
 sight of people among geraniums, with plumes 
 and white shirt-fronts, very elegant. It must 
 have been several minutes that he stood contem- 
 plating the entrance and the luxurious couples 
 who went in. 
 
 "Plumb French!" he observed at length; and 
 then, "Shucks!" in a key less confident, while 
 his guests ten feet away watched him narrowly. 
 "They're eatin' patty de parley- voo in there," he 
 muttered, and the three bootblacks came beside 
 him. "Say, fellows," said Lin, confidingly, "I 
 wasn't raised good enough for them dude dishes. 
 What do jni' say? I'm after a place where yu' 
 can mention oyster stoo without givin' anybody 
 a fit. What do yu' say, boys?" 
 
 That lighted the divine spark of brotherhood. 
 
 "Ah, you come along with us — ^well take yerj 
 138 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 You don't want to go in there. We'll show yer 
 the boss place in Market Street. We won't lose 
 yer." So, shouting together in their shrill little 
 city trebles, they clustered about him, and one 
 pulled at his coat to start him. He started obe- 
 diently, and walked in their charge, they leading 
 the way. 
 
 "Christmas is comin' now, sure," said Lin, grin- 
 ning to himself. "It ain't exactly what I figured 
 on." It was the first time he had laughed since 
 Cheyenne, and he brushed a hand over his eyes, 
 that were dim .with the new warmth in his heart. 
 
 Believing at length in him and his turkey, the 
 alert street faces, so suspicious of the unknown, 
 looked at him with ready intimacy as they went 
 along; and soon, in the friendly desire to make 
 him acquainted with Denver, the three were pa- 
 tronizing him. Only Billy, perhaps, now and then 
 stole at him a doubtful look. 
 
 The large Country Mouse listened solemnly to 
 his three Town Mice, who presently introduced 
 him to the place in Market Street. It was not 
 boss, precisely, and Denver knows better neigh- 
 borhoods; but the turkey and the oyster stew 
 were there, with catsup and vegetables in season, 
 and several choices of pie. Here the Country 
 Mouse became again efficient; and to witness 
 his liberal mastery of ordering and imagine his 
 pocket and its wealth, which they had heard and 
 partly seen, renewed in the guests a transient 
 awe. As they dined, however, and found the 
 host as frankly ravenous as themselves, this reti- 
 1.^9 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 cence evaporated, and they all grew fluent with 
 oaths and opinions. At one or two words, indeed, 
 Mr. McLean stared and had a slight sense of 
 blushing. 
 
 "Have a cigarette?" said the leader, over his 
 pie. 
 
 "Thank yu.'," said Lin. "I won't smoke, if 
 yu'll excuse me." He had devised a wholesome 
 meal, with water to drink. 
 
 "Chewin's no good at meals," continued the 
 hoy. " Don't you use tobaccer ?" 
 
 "Onced in a while." 
 
 The leader spat brightly. "He 'ain't learned 
 yet," said he, slanting his elbows at Billy and 
 sliding a match over his rump. "But beer, now 
 —I never seen anything in it." He and Tow- 
 head soon left Billy and his callow conversation 
 behind, and engaged in a town conversation that 
 silenced him, and set him listening with all his 
 admiring young might. Nor did Mr. McLean 
 join in the talk, but sat embarrassed by this 
 knowledge, which seemed about as much as he 
 knew himself. 
 
 "I'll be goshed," he thought, "if I'd caught on 
 
 to half that when I was streakin' around in short 
 
 f pants! Maybe they grow up quicker now." But 
 
 I now the Country Mouse perceived Billy's eager 
 
 and attentive apprenticeship. "Hello, boys!" he 
 
 said, "that theatre's got a big start on us." 
 
 They had all forgotten he had said anything 
 about theatre; and other topics left their im- 
 patient minds, while the Country Mouse paid the 
 140 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 bill and asked to be guided to the Opera-house. 
 "This man here will look out for your blackin' 
 and truck, and let yu' have it in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 They were very late. The spectacle had ad- 
 vanced far into passages of the highest thrill, 
 and Denver's eyes were riveted upon a ship and 
 some icebergs. The party found its seats during 
 several beautiful lime-light effects, and that re- 
 markable fly-buzzing of violins which is pro- 
 nounced so helpful in times of peril and senti- 
 ment. The Children of Captain Grant had been 
 tracking their father all over the equator and 
 other scenic spots, and now the north pole was 
 about to impale them. The Captain's youngest 
 child, perceiving a hummock rushing at them 
 with a sudden motion, loudly shouted, "Sister, 
 the ice is closing in!" and she replied, chastely, 
 "Then let us pray." It was a superb tableau: 
 the ice split, and the sun rose and joggled at once 
 to the zenith. The act-drop fell, and male Den- 
 ver, wrung to its religious deeps, went out to the 
 rum-shop. 
 
 Of course Mr. McLean and his party did not 
 do this. The party had applauded exceedingly 
 the defeat of the elements, and the leader, with 
 Towhead, discussed the probable chances of the 
 ship's getting farther south in the next act. Un- 
 til lately Billy's doubt of the cow-puncher had 
 lingered; but during this intermission whatever 
 had been holding out in him seemed won, and in 
 his eyes, that he turned stealthily upon his un- 
 141 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 conscious, quiet neighbor, shone the beginnings 
 of hero-worship. 
 
 "Don't you think this is splendid?" said he. 
 
 "Splendid," Lin replied, a trifle remotely. 
 
 "Don't you like it when they all get balled up 
 and get out that way?" 
 
 "Humming," said Lin. 
 
 "Don't you guess it's just girls, though, that 
 do that?" 
 
 "What, young fellow?" 
 
 "Why, all that prayer-saying an' stuff.'' 
 
 "I guess it must be." 
 
 " She said to do it when the ice scared her, an' 
 of course a man had to do what she wanted him." 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "Well, do you believe they'd a' done it if she 
 hadn't been on that boat, an' clung around an' 
 cried an' everything, an' made her friends feel 
 bad?" 
 
 "I hardly expect they would," replied the hon- 
 est Lin, and then, suddenly mindful of Billy, "ex- 
 cept there wasn't nothing else they could think 
 of," he added, wishing to speak favorably of the 
 custom. 
 
 "Why, that chunk of ice weren't so awful big 
 anyhow. I'd 'a' shoved her off with a pole. 
 Wouldn't you?" 
 
 "Butted her like a ram," exclaimed Mr. Mc- 
 Lean, 
 
 "Well, I don't say my prayers any more. I 
 told Mr. Perkins I wasn't a-going to, an' he— 
 I think he is a flubdub anyway." 
 142 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "I'll bet he is!" said Lin, sympathetically. . He 
 was scarcely a prudent guardian. 
 
 "I told him straight, an' he looked at me an' 
 down he flops on his knees, an' he made 'em all 
 flop, but I told him I didn't care for them putting 
 up any camp-meeting over me; an' he says, 'I'll 
 lick you,' an' I says, 'Dare you to!' I told him 
 mother kep' a-licking me for nothing, an' I'd not 
 pray for her, not in Sunday-school or anjrwheres 
 else. Do you pray much ?" 
 
 "No," replied Lin, uneasily. 
 
 "There! I told him a man didn't, an' he said 
 then a man went to hell. 'You lie; father ain't 
 going to hell,' I says, and you'd ought to heard 
 the first-class laugh right out loud, girls an' boys. 
 An' he was that mad! But I didn't care. I came 
 here with fifty cents." 
 
 " Yu' must have felt like a millionaire." 
 
 "Ah, I felt all right! I bought papers an' sold 
 'em, an' got more an' saved, an' got my box an' 
 blacking outfit. I weren't going to be licked by 
 her just because she felt like it, an' she feel- 
 ing like it most any time. Lemme see your 
 pistol." 
 
 "You wait," said Lin. "After this show is 
 through I'll put it on you." 
 
 "Will you, honest ? Belt an' everything ? Did 
 you ever shoot a bear?" 
 
 "Lord! lots." 
 
 " Honest ? Silver-tips ?" 
 
 "Silver-tips, cinnamon, black; and I roped a 
 cub onced." 
 
 143 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 "0-h! I never shot a bear." 
 
 "You'd ought to try it." 
 
 "I'm a-going to. I'm a-going to camp out in 
 the mountains. I'd like to see you when you 
 camp. I'd like to camp with you. Mightn't I 
 some time ?" Billy had drawn nearer to Lin, and 
 was looking up at him adoringly. 
 
 "You bet!" said Lin; and though he did not, 
 perhaps, entirely mean this, it was with a curi- 
 ously softened face that he began to look at 
 Billy. As with dogs and his horse, so always he 
 played with what children he met — the few in his 
 sage-brush world; but this was ceasing to be quite 
 play for him, and his hand went to the boy's 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Father took me camping with him once, the 
 time mother was off. Father gets awful drunk, 
 too. I've quit Laramie for good." 
 
 Lin sat up, and his hand gripped the boy. 
 "Laramie!" said he, almost shouting it. "Yu' — 
 yu' — ^is your name Lusk?" 
 
 But the boy had shrunk from him instantly. 
 "You're not going to take me home?" he pite- 
 ously wailed. 
 
 "Heaven and heavens!" murmured Lin Mc- 
 Lean. "So you're her kid!" 
 
X 
 
 TOUNG RESPONSIBILITY 
 
 He relaxed again, down in his chair, his legs 
 stretched their straight length below the chair in 
 front. He was waked from his bewilderment by 
 a brushing under him, and there was young Billy 
 diving for escape to the aisle, like the cornered 
 city mouse that he was. Lin nipped that poor 
 little attempt and had the limp Billy seated inside 
 again before the two in discussion beyond had 
 seen anything. He had said not a word to the 
 boy, and now watched his unhappy eyes seizing 
 upon the various exits and dispositions of the 
 theatre; nor could he imagine anything to tell 
 him that should restore the perished confidence. 
 "Why did yu' lead him off?" he asked himself 
 unexpectedly, and found that he did not seem 
 to know; but as he watched the restless and es- 
 tranged runaway he grew more and more sor- 
 rowful. "I just hate him to think that of me," 
 he reflected. The curtain rose, and he saw Billy 
 make up his mind to wait until they should all 
 be going out in the crowd. While the Children of 
 Captain Grant grew hotter and hotter upon their 
 father's geographic trail, Lin sat saying to him- 
 lo 145 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 self a number of contradictions. "He's nothing 
 *o me; what's any of them to me?" Driven to 
 bay by his bewilderment, he restated the facts of 
 the past. "Why, she'd deserted him and Lusk 
 before she'd ever laid eyes on me. I needn't to 
 bother myself. He wasn't never even my step- 
 kid." The past, however, brought no guidance. 
 "Lord, what's the thing to do about this? If I 
 had any home — This is a stinkin' world in some 
 respects," said Mr. McLean, aloud, unknowingly. 
 The lady in the chair beneath which the cow- 
 puncher had his legs nudged her husband. They 
 took it for emotion over the sad fortune of Cap- 
 tain Grant, and their backs shook. Presently 
 each turned, and saw the singular man with un- 
 tamed, wide-open eyes glowering at the stage, and 
 both backs shook again. 
 
 Once more his hand was laid on Billy. "Say!" 
 
 The boy glanced at him, and, quickly away. 
 
 "Look at me, and listen." 
 
 Billy swervingly obeyed. 
 
 "I ain't after ya', and never was. This here's 
 your business, not mine. Are yu' listenin' good ?" 
 
 The boy made a nod, and Lin proceeded, whis- 
 pering: "You've got no call to believe what I 
 say to yu' — yu've been lied to, I guess, pretty 
 often. So I'll not stop yu' runnin' and hidin', 
 and I'll never give it away I saw yu', but yu' 
 keep doin' what yTi' please. I'll just go now. I've 
 saw all I want, but you and your friends stay 
 with it till it quits. If yni' happen to wish to 
 speak to me about that pistol or bea,rs, yu' come 
 146 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 around to Smith's Palace — that's the boss hotel 
 here, ain't it? — and if yu' don't come too late I'll 
 not be gone to bed. But this time of night I'm 
 liable to get sleepy. Tell your friends good-bye 
 for me, and be good to yourself. I've appreciated 
 your company." 
 
 Mr. McLean entered Smith's Palace, and, engag- 
 ing a room with two beds in it, did a little deli- 
 cate Ijring by means of the truth. "It's a lost boy 
 — a runaway," he told the clerk. "He'll not be 
 extra clean, I expect, if he does come. Maybe 
 he'll give me the slip, and I'll have a job cut out 
 to-morrow. I'll thank yu' to put my money in 
 your safe." 
 
 The clerk placed himself at the disposal of the 
 secret service, and Lin walked up and down, look- 
 ing at the railroad photographs for some ten min- 
 utes, when Master Billy peered in from the street. 
 
 "Hello!" said Mr. McLean, casually, and re- 
 turned to a fine picture of Pike's Peak. 
 
 Billy observed him for a space, and, receiving 
 no further attention, came stepping along. "I'm 
 not a-going back to Laramie," he stated, warn- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I wouldn't," said Lin. "It ain't half the town 
 Denver is. Well, good-night. Sorry yu' couldn't 
 call sooner — I'm dead sleepy." 
 
 "O-h!" Billy stood blank. "I wish I'd shook 
 the darned old show. Say, lemme black your 
 boots in the morning?" 
 
 "Not sure my train don't go too early." 
 
 "I'm up! I'm up! I get around to all of 'em." 
 147 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Where do yii' sleep?" 
 
 "Sleeping with the engine-man now. Why 
 can't you put that on me to-night ?" 
 
 "Goin' up-stairs. This gentleman wouldn't let 
 you go up-stairs." 
 
 But the earnestly petitioned clerk consented, 
 and Billy was the first to hasten into the room. 
 He stood rapturous while Lin buckled the belt 
 round his scanty stomach, and ingeniously but- 
 toned the suspenders outside the accoutrement 
 to retard its immediate descent to earth. 
 
 "Did it ever kill a man?" asked Billy, touch- 
 ing the six-shooter. 
 
 "No. It 'ain't never had to do that, but I ex- 
 pect maybe it's stopped some killin' me." 
 
 "Oh, leave me wear it just a minute! Do 
 you collect arrow-heads? I think they're bully. 
 There's the finest one you ever seen." He brought 
 out the relic, tightly wrapped in paper, several 
 pieces. "I foun' it myself, camping with father. 
 It was sticking in a crack right on top of a rock, 
 but nobody'd seen it till I came along. Ain't it 
 fine?" 
 
 Mr. McLean pronotmced it a gem. 
 
 "Father an' me found a lot, an' they made 
 mother mad laying around, an' she throwed 'em 
 out. She takes stuff from Kelley's." 
 
 "Who's Kelley?" 
 
 "He keeps the drug-store at Laramie. Mother 
 
 gets awful funny. That's how she was when I 
 
 came home. For I told Mr. Perkins he lied, an' 
 
 I ran then. An' I knowed well enough she'd hck 
 
 1 48 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 me when she got through her spell — an' father 
 can't stop her, an' I — ah, I was sick of it! She's 
 lamed me up twice beating me — an' Perkins want- 
 ing me to say 'God bless my mother!' a-getting 
 up and a-going to bed — ^he's a flubdub! An' so I 
 cleared out. But I'd just as leaves said for God 
 to bless father — an' you. I'll do it now if you say 
 it's any sense." 
 
 Mr. McLean sat down in a chair. "Don't yu' 
 do it now," said he. 
 
 "You wouldn't like mother," Billy continued. 
 ' ' You can keep that. " He came to Lin and placed 
 the arrow-head in his hands, standing beside him. 
 " Do you like birds' eggs ? I collect them. I got 
 twenty-five kinds — sage-hen, an' blue grouse, 
 an' willow-grouse, an' lots more kinds harder — 
 but I couldn't bring all them from Laramie. I 
 brought the magpie's, though. D'you care to see 
 a magpie egg? Well, you stay to-morrow an' I'll 
 show you that an' some other things I got, the 
 engine-man lets me keep there, for there's boys 
 that would steal an egg. An' I could take you 
 where we could fire that pistol. Bet you don't 
 know what that is!" 
 
 He brought out a small tin box shaped Uke a 
 thimble, in which were things that rattled. 
 
 Mr. McLean gave it up. 
 
 "That's Idnni-kinnic seed. You can have that, 
 for I got some more with the engine-man." 
 
 Lin received this second token also, and thank- 
 ed the giver for it. His first feeling had been to 
 prevent the boy's parting with his treasures, but 
 t4g 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 something that came not from the polish of man- 
 ners and experience made him know that he 
 should take them. Billy talked away, laying bare 
 his little soul; the street boy that was not quite 
 come made place for the child that was not qtiite 
 gone, and unimportant words and confidences 
 dropped from him disjointed as he climbed to the 
 knee of Mr. McLean, and inadvertently took that 
 cow-puncher for some sort of parent he had not 
 hitherto met. It lasted but a short while, how- 
 ever, for he went to sleep in the middle of a sen- 
 tence, with his head upon Lin's breast. The man 
 held him perfectly still, because he had not the 
 faintest notion that Billy would be impossible to 
 disturb. At length he spoke to him, suggesting 
 that bed might prove more comfortable ; and, find- 
 ing how it was, rose and undressed the boy and 
 laid him between the sheets. The arms and legs 
 seemed aware of the moves required of them, and 
 stirred conveniently; and directly the head was 
 upon the pillow the whole small frame burrowed 
 down, without the opening of an eye or a change 
 in the breathing. Lin stood some time by the 
 bedside, with his eyes on the long, curling lashes 
 and the curly hair. Then he glanced craftily at 
 the door of the room, and at himself in the look- 
 ing-glass. He stooped and kissed Billy on the 
 forehead, and, rising from that, gave himself a 
 hangdog stare in the mirror, and soon in his own 
 bed was sleeping the sound sleep of health. 
 
 He was faintly roused by the church bells, and 
 lay still, lingering with his sleep, his eyes closed, 
 ISO 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 and his thoughts unshaped. As he became slowly 
 aware of the morning, the ringing and the light 
 reached him, and he waked wholly, and, still lying 
 quiet, considered the strange room filled with the 
 bells and the sun of the winter's day. "Where 
 have I struck now?" he inquired; and as last 
 night returned abruptly upon his mind, he raised 
 himself on his arm. 
 
 There sat Responsibility in a chair, washed 
 clean and dressed, watching him. 
 
 "You're awful late," said Responsibility. "But 
 I weren't a-going without telling you good-bye." 
 
 " Go ?" exclaimed Lin. " Go where ? Yu' sure- 
 ly ain't leavin' me to eat breakfast alone?" The 
 cow-puncher made his voice very plaintive. Set 
 Responsibility free after all his trouble to catch 
 him? This was more than he could do! 
 
 "I've got to go. If I'd thought you'd want for 
 me to stay — why, you said you was a-going by 
 the early train!" 
 
 "But the dumed thing's got away on me," said 
 Lin, smiling sweetly from the bed. 
 
 "If I hadn't a-promised them — " 
 
 •'Who?" 
 
 "Sidney Ellis and Pete Goode. Why, you know 
 them; you grubbed with them." 
 
 "Shucks!" 
 
 "We're a-going to have fun to-day." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "For it's Christmas, an' we've bought some 
 good cigars, an' Pete says he'll learn me sure. O' 
 course I've smoked some, you know. But I'd 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 just as leaves stayed with you if I'd only knowed 
 soonefi I wish you lived here. Did you smoke 
 whole big cigars when you was beginning?" 
 
 "Do you like flapjacks and maple syrup?" in- 
 quired the artful McLean. "That's what I'm 
 figuring on inside twenty minutes." 
 
 "Twenty minutes! If they'd wait — " 
 
 "See here, Bill. They've quit expecting yu', 
 don't yu' think? I ought to waked, yu' see, but 
 I slep' and slep', and kep' yu' from meetin' your 
 engagements, yu' see — ^for you couldn't go, of 
 course. A man couldn't treat a man that way 
 now, could he?" 
 
 "Course he couldn't," said Billy, brightening. 
 
 "And they wouldn't wait, yu' see. They 
 wouldn't fool away Christmas, that only comes 
 onced a year, kicldn' their heels and sayin' 
 'Where's Billy?' They'd say, 'Bill has sure 
 made other arrangements, which he'll explain to 
 us at his leesyure.' And they'd skip with the 
 cigars." 
 
 The advocate paused, effectively, and from his 
 bolster regarded Billy with a convincing eye. 
 
 "That's so," said Billy. 
 
 "And where would yu' be then, Bill? In the 
 street, out of friends, out of Christmas, and left 
 both ways, no tobaccer and no flapjacks. Now, 
 Bill, what do yu' say to us putting up a Christmas 
 deal together? Just you and me ?" 
 
 "I'd like that," said Billy. "Is it all day?" 
 
 "I was thinkin' of all day," said Lin. "I'll not 
 ■make yu' do anything yu'd rather not" 
 
 IS2 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Ah, they can smoke without me," said Billy, 
 with sudden acrimony. "I'll see 'em to-morro'." 
 
 "That's you!" cried Mr. McLean. "Now, Bill, 
 you hustle down and tell them to keep a table 
 for us. I'll get r^y clothes on and follow yu'." 
 
 The boy went, and Mr. McLean procured hot 
 water and dressed himself, tjdng his scarf with 
 great care. "Wished I'd a clean shirt," said he. 
 "But I don't look very bad.. Shavin' yesterday 
 afternoon was a good move." He picked up the 
 arrow-head aiid the kinni-kinnic, and was particu- 
 lar to store them in his safest pocket. ' ' I ain't sure 
 whether you're crazy or not," said he to the man 
 in the looking-glass. "I 'ain't never been sure." 
 And he slammed the door and went down-stairs. 
 
 He found young Bill on guard over a table for 
 four, with al! the chairs tilted against it as warn- 
 ing to strange rS; No one sat at any other table 
 or came iato th^ room, for it was late, and the 
 place quite emptJed of breakf asters, and the sev- 
 eral entertained waiters had gathered behind 
 Billy's important-looking back. Lin provided a 
 thormgh meal, and Billy pronounced the flannel 
 cake 5 superior to flapjacks, which were not upon 
 the lull of fare. 
 
 " I 'd like to see you often," said he. "I'll come 
 and iCe you if you don't live too far." 
 
 "Tuat's the trouble," said the cow-puncher. 
 "I do. Awful far." He stared out of the win- 
 dow. 
 
 "W ill, I might come some time. I wish you'd 
 write ie a letter. Can you write ?" 
 IS3 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "What's that? Can I write? Oh yes." 
 
 "I can write, an' I can read too. I've been to 
 school in Sidney, Nebraska, an' Magaw, Kansas, 
 an' Salt Lake— that's the finest town except Den- 
 ver." 
 
 Billy fell into that cheerful strain of comment 
 which, unrepUed to, yet goes on contented and 
 self-sustaining, while Mr. McLean gave amiable 
 signs of assent, but chiefly looked out of the win- 
 dow; and when the now interested waiter said 
 respectfully that he desired to close the room, 
 they went out to the office, where the money was 
 got out of the safe and the bill paid. 
 
 The streets were full of the bright sun, and 
 seemingly at Denver's gates stood the mountains 
 sparkling; an air crisp and pleasant wafted from 
 their peaks; no smoke hung among the roofs, 
 and the sky spread wide over the city without a 
 stain; it was holiday up among the chimneys 
 and tall buildings, and down among the quiet 
 ground-stories below as well; and presently from 
 their scattered pinnacles through the town the 
 bells broke out against the jocund silence of the 
 morning. 
 
 "Don't you like music?" inquired Billy. 
 
 "Yes," said Lin. 
 
 Ladies with their husbands and children were 
 passing and meeting, orderly yet gayer than if it 
 were only Sunday, and the salutations of Christ- 
 mas came now and again to the cow-puncher's 
 ears; but to-day, possessor of his own share in 
 this, Lin looked at every one with a sort of 
 IS4 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 friendly challenge, and young Billy talked along 
 beside him. 
 
 "Dcn't you think we could go in here?" Billy 
 asked. A church door was open, and the rich 
 organ sounded through to the pavement. 
 "They've good music here, an' they keep it up 
 without much talking between. I've been in 
 lots of times." 
 
 They went in and sat to hear the music. Bet- 
 ter than the organ, it seemed to them, were the 
 harmonious voices raised from somewhere out- 
 side, like unexpected visitants; and the pair sat 
 in their back seat, too deep in listening to the 
 processional hymn to think of rising in decent 
 imitation of those around them. The crystal 
 melody of the refrain especially reached their 
 understandings, and when for the fourth time 
 "Shout the glad tidings, exultingly sing," pealed 
 forth and ceased, both the delighted faces fell. 
 
 "Don't you wish there was more?" Billy whis- 
 pered. 
 
 "Wish there was a hundred verses," answered 
 Lin. 
 
 But canticles and responses followed, with so 
 little talking between them they were held spell- 
 bound, seldom thinking to rise or kneel. Lin's 
 eyes roved over the church, dwelling upon the 
 pillars in their evergreen, the flowers and leafy 
 wreaths, the texts of white and gold. "'Peace, 
 good-will towards men,'" he read. "That's so. 
 Peace and good-will. Yes, that's so. I expect 
 they got that somewheres in the Bible. It's 
 iSS 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 awful good, and you'd never think of it your^ 
 self." 
 
 There was a touch on his arm, and a woman 
 handed a book to him. "This is the hjmin we 
 have now," she whispered, gently; and Lin, blush- 
 ing scarlet, took it passively without a word. 
 He and Billy stood up and held the book together, 
 dutifully reading the words: 
 
 " It came upon the midnight clear. 
 
 That glorious song of old, 
 From angels bending near the earth 
 
 To touch their harps of gold; 
 Peace on the earth — " 
 
 This tune was more beautiful than all, and Lin 
 lost himself in it, until he found Billy recalling him 
 with a finger upon the words, the concluding ones: 
 
 " And the whole world sent back the song 
 Which now the angels sing." 
 
 The music rose and descended to its lovely and 
 simple end; and, for a second time in Denver, 
 Lin brushed a hand across his eyes. He turned 
 his face from his neighbor, frowning crossly; 
 and since the heart has reasons which Reason 
 does not know, he seemed to himself a fool; but 
 when the service was over and he came out, he 
 repeated again, "'Peace and good- will.' When 
 I run on to the Bishop of Wyoming I'll tell him 
 if he'll preach on them words I'll be there." 
 
 "Couldn't we shoot your pistol now?" asked 
 Billy. 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Sure, boy. Ain't yu' hungry, though?" 
 
 "No. I -wish we were away off up there. 
 Don't you?" 
 
 "The mountains? They look pretty, so white'. 
 A heap better 'n houses. Why, we'll go there! 
 There's trains to Golden. We'll shoot around 
 among the foothills." 
 
 To Golden they immediately went, and after a 
 meal there, wandered in the open country until 
 the cartridges were gone, the sun was low, and 
 Billy was walked off his young heels — a truth he 
 learned complete in one horrid moment, and bat- 
 tled to conceal. 
 
 "Lame!" he echoed, angrily. "I ain't." 
 
 "Shucks!" said Lin, after the next ten steps, 
 "You are, and both feet." 
 
 "Tell you, there's stones here, an' I'm just a- 
 skipping them." 
 
 Lin, briefly, took the boy in his arms and carried 
 him to Golden. "I'm played out myself," he said, 
 sitting in the hotel and looking lugubriously at 
 Billy on a bed. "And I ain't fit to have charge 
 of a hog." He came and put his hand on the 
 boy's head. 
 
 "I'm not sick," said the cripple. "I tell you 
 I'm bully. You wait an' see me eat dinner." 
 
 But Lin had hot water and cold water and salt, 
 and was an hour upon his knees bathing the hot 
 feet. And then Billy could not eat dinner! 
 
 There was a doctor in Golden; but in spite of 
 his light prescription and most reasonable obser- 
 vations, Mr. McLean passed a foolish night of 
 IS7 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 vigy, while Billy slept, quite well at first, and, as 
 the hours passed, better and better. In the 
 morning he was entirely brisk, though stiff. 
 
 "I couldn't work quick to-day," he said. " But 
 I guess one day won't lose me my trade." 
 
 "How d' yu' mean?" asked Lin. 
 
 "Why, I've, got regulars, you know. Sidney 
 Ellis an' Pete Goode has theirs, an' we don't cut 
 each other. I've got Mr. Daniels an' Mr. Fisher 
 an' lots, an' if you lived in Denver I'd shine your 
 boots every day for nothing. I wished you lived 
 in Denver." 
 
 "Shine my boots ? Yu'l' never! And yu' don't 
 black Daniels or Fisher, or any of the outfit." 
 
 "Why, I'm doing first-rate," said Billy, sur- 
 prised at the swearing into which Mr. McLean 
 now burst. "An' I ain't big enough to get to 
 make money at any other job." 
 
 "I want to see that engine-man," muttered 
 Lin. "I don't like your smokin' friend." 
 
 "Pete Goode? Why, he's awful smart. Don't 
 you think he's smart?" 
 
 "Smart's nothin'," observed Mr. McLean. 
 
 "Pete has learned me and Sidney a lot," ptir- 
 sued Billy, engagingly. 
 
 "I'll bet he has!" growled the cow-puncher; 
 and again Billy was taken aback at his lan- 
 guage. 
 
 It was not so simple, this case. To the per- 
 turbed mind of Mr. Lean it grew less simple, 
 during that day at Golden, while Billy recovered, 
 and talked, and ate his innocent meals. The cow- 
 158 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 puncher was far too wise to think for a single mo- 
 ment of restoring the runaway to his debauched 
 and shiftless parents. Possessed of some im- 
 agination, he went through a scene in which he 
 appeared at the Lusk threshold with Billy and 
 forgiveness, and intruded upon a conjugal assault 
 and battery. "Shucks!" said he. "The kid would 
 be off again inside a week. And I don't want him 
 there, an3rway."' 
 
 Denver, upon the following day, saw the little 
 bootblack again at his corner, with his trade not 
 lost ; but near him. stood a tall, singular man, with 
 hazel eyes and a sulky expression. And citizens 
 during that week noticed, as a new sight in the 
 streets, the tall man and the little boy walking 
 together. Sometimes they would be in shops. 
 The boy seemed as happy as possible, talking con- 
 stantly, while the man seldom said a word, and 
 his face was serious. 
 
 Upon New Year's Eve Governor Barker was 
 overtaken by Mr. McLean riding a horse up Hill 
 Street, Cheyenne. 
 
 "Hello!" said Barker, staring humorously 
 through his glasses. "Have a good drunk?" 
 
 "Changed my mind," said Lin, grinning. 
 "Proves I've got one. Struck Christmas all 
 right, though." 
 
 "Who's your friend?" inqmred his Excel- 
 lency. 
 
 "This is Mister Billy Lusk. Him and me have 
 agreed that towns ain't nice to live in. If Judge 
 159 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Henry's foreman and his wife won't board him at 
 Sunk Creek — why, I'll fix it somehow." 
 
 The cow-puncher and his Responsibility rode 
 on together toward the open plain. 
 
 "Suffering Moses!" remarked his Excellency. 
 
THE TRUE GIRL 
 
 We had fallen half asleep, my pony and I, as 
 we went jogging and jogging through the long 
 sunny afternoon. Our hills of yesterday were a 
 pale-blue coast sunk almost away behind us, and 
 ahead our goal lay shining, a little island of houses 
 in this quiet mid-ocean of sage-brush. For two 
 hours it had looked as clear and near as now, 
 rising into sight across the huge dead calm and 
 sinking while we travelled our undulating, imper- 
 ceptible miles. The train had come and gone in- 
 visibly, except for its slow pillar of smoke I had 
 watched move westward against Wyoming's stain- 
 less sky. Though I was still far off, the water-tank 
 and other buildings stood out plain and complete 
 to my eyes, like children's blocks arranged and 
 forgotten on the floor. So I rode along, hypno- 
 tized by the sameness of the lazy, splendid plain, 
 and almost unaware of the distant rider, till, sud- 
 denly, he was close and hailing me. 
 
 '"They've caved!" he shouted. 
 
 "Who?" I cried, thus awakened. 
 
 "Ah, the fool company," said he, quieting his 
 voice as he drew near. "They've shed their 
 II i6i 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 haughtiness," he added, confidingly, as if I mu^ 
 know all about it. 
 
 "Where did they learn that wisdom?" I asked 
 not knowing in the least. 
 
 "Experience," he called over his shoulder (fo? 
 already we had met and passed); "nothing lik«» 
 experience for sweating the fat off the brain." 
 
 He yelled me a brotherly good-bye, and I art 
 sorry never to have known more of him, for I in- 
 cline to value any stranger so joyous. But noTS 
 I waked the pony and trotted briskly, surmising" 
 as to the company and its haughtiness. I ha^ 
 been viewing my destination across the sage 
 brush for so spun-out a time that (as constantlj 
 in Wyoming journeys) the emotion of arrival had 
 evaporated long before the event, and I welcomed 
 emplojrment for my otherwise high-and-dry mind. 
 Probably he meant the railroad company; cer- 
 tainly something large had happened. Even as 
 I dismounted at the platform another hilarious 
 cow-puncher came out of the station, and, at once 
 remarking, "They're going to leave us alone," 
 sprang on his horse and galloped to the corrals 
 down the line, where some cattle were being 
 loaded into a train. I went inside for my mail, 
 and here were four more cow-punchers playing 
 with the agent. They had got a letter away from 
 him, and he wore his daily look of anxiety to 
 appreciate the jests of these rollicking people. 
 "Read it!" they said to me; and I did read the 
 private document, and learned that the railroad 
 was going to waive its right to enforce law and 
 162 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 order here, and would trust to Separ's good feel- 
 ing. "Nothing more," the letter ran, "will be 
 done about the initial outrage or the subsequent 
 vandalisms. We shall pass over our wasted out- 
 lay in the hope that a policy of friendship will 
 prove our genuine desire to benefit that section." 
 
 "'Initial outrage,'" quoted one of the agen+'s 
 large playmates. "Ain't they furgivin' ?" 
 
 "Well," said I, "you would have some name 
 for it yourself if you sent a deputy sheriff to look 
 after your rights, and he came back tied to the 
 cow-catcher!" 
 
 The man smiled luxuriously over this memory. 
 "We didn't hurt him none. Just returned him 
 to his home. Hear about the label Honey Wiggin 
 pinned on to him ? ' Send us along one dozen as 
 per sample.' Honey's quaint! Yes," he drawled, 
 judicially, "I'd be mad at that. But if you're 
 making peace with a man because it's convenient, 
 why, your words must be pleasanter than if you 
 really felt pleasant." He took the paper from 
 me, and read, sardonically: "Subsequent van- 
 dalisms . . . wasted outlay.' I suppose they run 
 this station from charity to the cattle. Saves the 
 poor things walking so far to the other railroad. 
 'Policy of friendship . . . genuine desire '^ — oh, 
 mouth-wash!" And, shaking his bold, clever 
 head, he daintily flattened the letter upon the 
 head of the agent. "Tubercle," said he (this was 
 their name for the agent, who had told all of us 
 about his lungs), "it ain't your fault we saw their 
 fine letter. They just intended you should give 
 163 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 it out how they wouldn't bother us any more, and 
 then we'd act square. The boys'U sit up late over 
 this joke." 
 
 Then they tramped to their horses and rode 
 away. The spokesman had hit the vital point 
 unerringly; for cow-punchers are shrewdly alive 
 to frankness, and it often draws out the best that 
 is in them; but its opposite affects them unfavor- 
 ably; and I, needing sleep, sighed to think of 
 their late sitting up over < at joke. I walked 
 to the board box painted ' Hotel Brunswick" — 
 "hotel" in small italics and "Brunswick" in 
 enormous capitals, the N and the S wrong side 
 up. 
 
 Here sat a girl outside the door, alone. Her 
 face was broad, wholesome, and strong, and hei 
 eyes alert and sweet. As I came she met me with 
 a challenging glance of good-will. Those women 
 who journeyed along the line in the wake of pay- 
 day to traffic with the men employed a stare well 
 known; but this 'straight look seemed like the 
 greeting of some pleasant young cowboy. In sur- 
 prise I forgot to be civil, and stepped foolishly 
 by her to see about supper and lodging. 
 
 At the threshold I perceived all lodging be- 
 spoken. On each of the four beds lay a coat or 
 pistol or other article of dress, and I must lodge 
 myself. There were my saddle-blankets — rather 
 wet; or Lin McLean might ride in to-night on 
 his way to Riverside ; or perhaps down at the cor- 
 rals I could find some other acquaintance whose 
 habit of washing I trusted and whose bed I might 
 164 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 share. Failing these expedients, several empties 
 stood idle upon a siding, and the box-like dark- 
 ness of these freight-cars was timely. Nights 
 were short now. Camping out, the dawn by three 
 o'clock would flow like silver through the uni- 
 verse, and, sinking through my blankets, remorse- 
 lessly pervade my buried hair and brain. But 
 with clean straw in the bottom of an empty, I 
 could sleep my fill until five or six. I decided for 
 the empty, and opened the supper-room door, 
 where the table was set for more than enough to 
 include me; but the smell of the butter that 
 awaited us drove me out of the Hotel Brunswick 
 to spend the remaining minutes in the air. 
 
 "I was expecting you," said the girl. "Well, 
 if I haven't frightened him!" She laughed so 
 delightfully that I • recovered and laughed toq. 
 "Why," she explained, "I just knew you'd not 
 stay in there. Which side are you going to but- 
 ter your bread this evening?" 
 
 "You had smelt it?" said I, still cloudy with 
 surprise. "Yes. Unquestionably. Very rancid." 
 She glanced oddly at me, and, with less fellowship 
 in her tone, said, "I was going to warn you — ' 
 when suddenly, down at the corrals, the boys 
 began to shoot at large. "Oh, dear!" she cried 
 starting up. "There's trouble." 
 
 "Not trouble," I assured her. "Too many are 
 firing at once to be in earnest. And you would 
 be safe here." 
 
 "Me? A lady without escort? Well, I should 
 reckon so! Leastways, we are respected where 
 i6s 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 I was rsiised. I was anxious for the gentlemen 
 ovah yondah. Shawhan, K. C. branch of the 
 LouavuU an' NashvuU, is my home." The words 
 "Louisville and Nashville" spoke creamily of 
 Blue-grass. 
 
 "Unescorted all that way!" I exclaimed. 
 
 "Isn't it awful?" said she, tilting her head with 
 a laugh, and showing the pistol she carried. " But 
 we've always been awful in Kentucky. Now I 
 suppose New York would never speak to poor me 
 as it passed by?" And she eyed me with capa- 
 ble, good-humored satire. 
 
 "Why New York?" I demanded. "Guess 
 again." 
 
 "Well," she debated, "well, cowboy clothes and 
 city language — he's English!" she burst out; and 
 then she turned suddenly red, and whispered to 
 herself reprovingly, "If I'm not acting rude!" 
 
 "Oh!" said I, rather familiarly. 
 
 "It was, sir; and please to excuse me. If you 
 had started joking so free with me, I'd have been 
 insulted. When I saw you — the hat and every- 
 thing — I took you — You see I've always been 
 that used to talking to^ — to folks around!" Her 
 bright face saddened, memories evidently rose be- 
 fore her, and her eyes grew distant. 
 
 I wished to say, "Treat me as 'folks around,'" 
 but this tall country girl had put us on other 
 terms. On discovering I was not "folks around," 
 she had taken refuge in deriding me, but swiftly 
 feeling no solid ground there, she drew a firm, 
 clear woman's line between us. Plainly she was 
 1 66 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 a comrade of men, in her buoyant innocence se- 
 cure, yet by no means in the dark as to them. 
 
 ■'Yes, unescorted two thousand miles," she re- 
 sumed, "and never as far as twenty from home 
 till last Tuesday. I expect you'll have to be 
 scandahzed, for I'd do it right over again to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "You've got me all wrong," said I. "I'm not 
 English; I'm not New York. I am good Ameri-. 
 can, and not bounded by my own farm either. 
 No sectional line, or Mason and Dixon, or Missouri 
 River, tattoos me. But you, when you say United 
 States, you mean United Kentucky!" 
 
 "Did you ever!" said she, staring at what was 
 Greek to her — as it is to most Americans. "And 
 so if you had a sister back East, and she and you 
 were all there was of you any more, and she 
 hadn't seen you since — not since you first took to 
 staying out nights, and she started to visit you, 
 you'd not tell her 'Fie for shame'?" 
 
 "I'd travel my money's length to meet her!" 
 said I. 
 
 A wave of pain crossed her face. "Nate didn't 
 know," she said then, lightly. "You see, Nate's 
 only a boy, and regular thoughtless about writ- 
 ing." 
 
 Ah! So this Nate never wrote, and his sistei 
 loved and championed him! Many such stray 
 Nates and Bobs and Bills galloped over Wyoming, 
 lost and forgiven., 
 
 "I'm starting for him in the Buffalo stage," 
 continued the girl. 
 
 167 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Then I'll have your company on a weary 
 road," said I; for my journey was now to that 
 part of the cattle country. 
 
 "To Buffalo?" she said, quickly. "Then may- 
 be you — ^maybe — My brother is Nate Buckner." 
 She paused. "Then you're not acquainted with 
 him?" 
 
 "I may have seen him," I answered, slowly. 
 "But faces and names out here come and go." 
 
 I knew him well enough. He was in jail, con- 
 victed of forgery last week, waiting to go to the 
 penitentiary for five years. And even this wild 
 border community that hated law courts and pun- 
 ishments had not been sorry; for he had cheated 
 his friends too often, and the wide charity of the 
 sage-brush does not cover that sin. Beneath his 
 pretty looks and daring skill with horses they had 
 found vanity and a cold, false heart; but his sister 
 could not. Here she was, come to find him after 
 lonely years, and to this one soul that loved him 
 in the world how was I to tell the desolation and 
 the disgrace ? I was glad to hear her ask me if the 
 stage went soon after supper. 
 
 "Now isn't that a bother?" said she, when I 
 answered that it did not start till morning. She 
 glanced with rueful gayety at the hotel. "Never 
 mind," she continued, briskly; "I'm used to 
 things. I'll just sit up somewhere. Maybe the 
 agent will let me stay in the office. You're sure 
 all that shooting's only jolUfication ?" 
 
 "Certain," I said. "But I'll go and see." 
 
 "They always will have their fun," said she, 
 1 68 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 •'But I hate to have a poor boy get hurt — even 
 him deserving it!" 
 
 "They use pistols instead of fire-crackers, "said 
 I. " But you must never sleep in that office. I'll 
 see what we can do." 
 
 "Why, you're real kind!" she exclaimed, heart- 
 ily. And I departed, wondering what I ought 
 to do. 
 
 Perhaps I should have told you before that 
 Separ was a place once — a sort of place; but you 
 will relish now, I am convinced, the pithy fable 
 of its name. 
 
 Midway between two sections of this still un- 
 finished Una that, rail after rail and mile upon 
 mile, crawled over the earth's face visibly during 
 the constructing hours of each new day, lay a 
 camp. To this point these unjoined pieces were 
 heading, and here at length they met. Camp 
 Separation) it had been fitly called; but how 
 should the American railway man afEord time to 
 say that? Separation was pretty and apt, but 
 needless; and with the sloughing of two syllables 
 came the brief, businesslike result — Separ. Chi- 
 cago, 1 137 J miles. It was labelled on a board, 
 large almost as the hut station. A Y-switch, two 
 sidings, the fat water-tank and steam-pump, and 
 a section-house with three trees before it com- 
 posed the north side. South of the track were no 
 trees. There was one long siding by the corrals 
 and cattle-chute, there were a hovel where plug 
 tobacco and canned goods were for sale, a shed 
 where you might get your horse shod, a wire 
 169 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 fence that at shipping times enclosed bales of 
 pressed hay, the hotel, the stage-stable, and the 
 little station — some seven shanties all told. B& 
 tween them were spaces of dust, the immediate 
 plains engulfed them, and through their midst 
 ran the far-vanishing railroad, to which they 
 hung like beads on a great string from horizon to 
 horizon. A great east-and-west string, one end 
 in the rosy sun at morning, and one in the orim- 
 son sun at night. Beyond each sky-line lay cities 
 and ports where the world went on out of sight 
 and hearing. This lone steel thread had been 
 stretched across the continent because at was the 
 day of haste and hope, when dollars seemed many 
 and hard times were few; and from the Yellow- 
 stone to the Rio Grande similar threads were 
 stretching, and little Separs by dispersed hun- 
 dreds hung on them, as it were in space eternal. 
 Can you wonder that vigorous young men with 
 pistols should, when they came to such a place, 
 shoot them off to let loose their unbounded joy 
 of living? 
 
 And yet it was not this merely that began the 
 custom, but an error of the agent's. The new 
 station was scarce created when one morning 
 Honey Wiggin with the Virginian had galloped 
 innocently in from the round-up to telegraph for 
 some additional cars. 
 
 "I'm dead on to you!" squealed the official, 
 
 dropping flat at the sight of them; and bang 
 
 went his gun at them. They, most naturally, 
 
 thought it was a maniac, and ran for their lives 
 
 170 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 among the supports of the water-tank, while he 
 remained anchored with his weapon, crouched be- 
 hind the railing that fenced him and his appara- 
 tus from the laity; and some fifteen strategic 
 minutes passed before all parties had crawled 
 forth to an understanding, and the message was 
 written and paid for and comfortably despatched. 
 The agent was an honest creature, but of tame 
 habits, sent for the sake of his imperfect lungs to 
 this otherwise inappropriate air. He had lived 
 chiefly in mid-West towns, a serious reader of our 
 comic weeklies; hence the apparition of Wiggin 
 and the Virginian had reminded him sickeningly 
 of bandits. He had express money in the stife, 
 he explained to them, and this was a hard old coun- 
 try, wasn't it ? and did they like good whiskey ? 
 
 They drank his whiskey, but it was not well to 
 have mentioned that about the bandits. Both 
 were aware that when shaved and washed of their 
 round-up grime they could look very engaging. 
 The two cow-punchers rode out, not angry, but 
 grieved that a man come here to dwell among 
 them should be so tactless. 
 
 "If we don't get him used to us," observed the 
 Virginian, "he and his pop-gun will be guttin* 
 some blameless man." 
 
 Forthwith the cattle country proceeded to get 
 the agent used to it. The news went over the 
 sage-brush from Belle Fourche to Sweetwater, 
 and playful, howling horsemen made it their cus- 
 tom to go rioting with pistols round the ticket- 
 office, educating the agent. His lungs improved. 
 171 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 and he came dimly to smile at this life which ht 
 did not understand. But the company discerned 
 no humor whatever in having its water-tank per- 
 forated, which happened twice; and sheriffs and 
 deputies and other symptoms of authority be- 
 gan to invest Separ. Now what should author- 
 ity do upon these free plains, this wilderness 
 of do-as-you-please, where mere breathing the 
 air was like inebriation? The large, headlong 
 children who swept in from the sage-brush and 
 out again meant nothing that they called harm 
 until they found themselves resisted. Then pres- 
 ently happened that affair of the cow-catcher; 
 and later a too-zealous niarshal, come about a 
 mail-car they had side-tracked and held with fid- 
 dles, drink, and petticoats, met his death acci- 
 dentally, at which they were sincerely sorry for 
 about five minutes. They valued their own lives 
 as little, and that lifts them forever from base- 
 ness at least. So the company, concluding such 
 things must be endured for a while yet, wrote 
 their letter, and you have seen how wrong the 
 letter went. All it would do would be from now 
 on to fasten upon Separ its code of recklessness; 
 to make shooting the water-tank (for example) 
 part of a gentleman's deportment when he showed 
 himself in town. 
 
 It was not now the season of heavy shipping; 
 to-night their work would be early finished, and 
 then they were likely to play after their manner. 
 To arrive in such a place on her way to her 
 brother, the felon in jail, made the girl's journey 
 172 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 seem doubly forlorn to me as I wandered down 
 to the corrals. 
 
 A anall, bold voice hailed me. "Hello, you!" 
 it said; and here was Billy Lusk, aged nine, in 
 boots and overalls, importantly useless with a 
 stick, helping the men prod the steers at the chute. 
 
 "Thought you were at school," said I. 
 
 "Ah, school's quit," returned Billy, and change 
 the subject. "Say, Lin's hunting you. He's a- 
 going to eat at the hotel. I'm grubbing with the 
 outfit." And Billy resumed his specious ac- 
 tivity. 
 
 Mr. McLean was in the ticket-oflSce, where the 
 newspaper had transiently reminded him of poli- 
 tics. "Wall Street," he was explaining to the 
 agent, "has been lunched on by them Ross-childs, 
 and they're moving on. Feeding along to Chi- 
 cago. We want — " Here he noticed me and 
 dragging his gauntlet ofE, shook my hand with his 
 lusty grasp. 
 
 "Your eldest son just said you were in haste 
 to find me," I remarked. 
 
 "Lose you, he meant. The kid gets his words 
 twisted." 
 
 "Didn't know you were a father, Mr. McLean," 
 simpered the agent. 
 
 Lin fixed his eye on the man. "And you don't 
 know it now," said he. Then he removed his eye. 
 " Let's grub," he added to me. My friend did not 
 walk to the hotel, but slowly round and about, 
 with a face overcast. "Billy is a good kid," he 
 said at length, and, stopping, began to kick small 
 173 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 mounds in the dust. Politics floated lightly over 
 him, but here was a matter dwelling with him, 
 heavy and real. "He's dead stuck on being a 
 cow-puncher," he presently said. 
 
 "Some day — " I began. 
 
 "He don't want to wait that long," Lin said, 
 and smiled affectionately. "And, anyhow, what 
 is 'some day'? Some day we punchers will not 
 be here. The living will be scattered, and the 
 dead — well, they'll be all right. Have yn' studied 
 the wire fence? It's spreading to catch us like 
 nets do the salmon in the Columbia River. No 
 more salmon, no more cow-punchers," stated Mr. 
 McLean, sententiously; and his words made me 
 sad, though I know that progress cannot spare 
 land and water for such things. " But Billy," Lin 
 resumed, "has agreed to school again wheii it 
 starts up in the fall. He takes his medicine be- 
 cause I want him to." Affection crept anew over 
 the cow-puncher's face. "He can learn books 
 with the quickest when he wants, that Bear 
 Creek school-marm says. But he'd ought to 
 have a regular mother till — till I can do for him, 
 yn' know. It's onwholesome him seeing and 
 hearing the boys — and me, and me when I for- 
 get! — ^but shucks! how can I fix it? Billy was 
 sure enough dropped and deserted. But when I 
 found him the little calf could run and notice 
 like everything!" 
 
 "I should hate yovir contract, Lin," said I. 
 "Adopting's a touch-and-go business even when 
 a man has a home." 
 
 174 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "I'll fill the contract, you bet! I wish the lit- 
 tle son-of-a-gun was mine. I'm a heap more nat- 
 ural to him than that pair of drunkards that got 
 him. He likes me: I think he does. I've had to 
 lick him now and then, but Lord! his badness is 
 all right — not sneaky. I'll take him hunting next 
 month, and then the foreman's wife at Sunk Creek 
 boards him till school. Only when they move. 
 Judge Henry '11 make his Virginia man foreman — 
 and he's got no woman to look after Billy, yn' 
 see." 
 
 "He's asking one hard enough," said I, digres- 
 sing. 
 
 "Oh yes; asking! Talk of adopting — " said 
 Mr. McLean, and his wide-open, hazel eyes look- 
 ed away as he coughed uneasily. Then abruptly 
 looking at me again, he said: "Don't you get 
 off any more truck about eldest son and that, will 
 jm.', friend? The boys are joshing me now — not 
 that I care for what might easy enough be so, 
 but there's Billy. Maybe he'd not mind, but 
 maybe he would after a while; and I am kind o' 
 set on — well — ^he didn't have a good time till he 
 shook that home of his, and I'm going to make 
 this old bitch of a world pay him what she owes 
 him, if I can. Now you'll drop joshing, won't 
 jni'?" His forehead was moist over getting the 
 thing said and laying bare so much of his soul. 
 
 "And so the world owes us a good time, Lin?" 
 said I. 
 
 He laughed shortly. "She must have been 
 dead broke, then, quite a while, you bet! Oh no. 
 I7S 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Maybe I used to travel on that basis. But see 
 here" (Lin laid his hand on my shoulder), "if yqu 
 can't expect a good time for yourself in reason, 
 you can sure make the kids happy out o' reason, 
 can't yu' ?" 
 
 I fairly opened my mouth at him. 
 
 "Oh yes," he said, laughing in that short way 
 again (and he took his hand ofif my shoulder); 
 "I've been thinking a wonderful lot since we met 
 last. I guess I know some things yu' haven't got 
 to yet yourself — Why, there's a girl!" 
 
 "That there is!" said I. "And certainly the 
 world owes her a better — " 
 
 "She's a fine-looker," interrupted Mr. McLean, 
 paying me no further attention. Here the de- 
 crepit, straw-hatted proprietor of the Hotel 
 Brunswick stuck his beard out of the door and 
 uttered "Supper!" with a shrill croak, at which 
 the girl rose. 
 
 "Come!" said Lin, "let's hurry!" 
 
 But I hooked my fingers in his belt, and in 
 spite of his plaintive oaths at my losing him the 
 best seat at the table, told him in three words the 
 sister's devoted journey. 
 
 "Nate Buckner!" Ije exclaimed. "Him with a 
 decent sister!" ' 
 
 "It's the other way round," said I. "Her with 
 him for a brother!" 
 
 "He goes to tfie penitentiary this week," said 
 
 Lin. "He had no more cash to stake his lawyer 
 
 with, and the lawyer lost interest in him. So his 
 
 sister could have waited for her convict away 
 
 176 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 back at Joliet, and saved time and money. How 
 did she act when 3ni' told her?" 
 
 "I've not told her." 
 
 "Not? Too kind o' not your business? Well, 
 well! You'd ought to know better 'n me. Only 
 it don't seem right to let her — no, sir; it's not 
 right, either. Put it her brother was dead (and 
 Mrs. Fligg's husband would like dearly to make 
 him dead) , you'd not let her come slap up against 
 the news unwarned. You would tell her he was 
 sick, and start her gently." 
 
 "Death's different," said I. 
 
 "Shucks! And she's to find him caged, and 
 waiting for stripes and a shaved head? Howd' 
 yu' know she mightn't hate that worse *n if he'd 
 been just shot like a man in a husband scrape, 
 instead of jailed like a skunk' for thieving? No,' 
 sir, she mustn't. Think of how it'll be. Quick 
 as the stage pulls up front o' the Buffalo post- 
 office, plump she'll be down ahead of the mail- 
 sacks inquiring after her brother, and all that, 
 crowd around staring. Why, we can't let her do 
 that; she can't do that. If you don't feel so in- 
 terfering, I'm good for this job myself." And 
 Mr. McLean took the lead and marched jingling 
 in to supper. 
 
XII 
 
 CONCERNING AN EMPTY 
 
 The seat he had coveted was vacant. On eithet 
 side the girl were empty chairs, two or three ; for 
 with that clean, shy respect of the frontier that 
 divines and evades a good woman, the dusty 
 company had sat itself at a distance, and Mr. 
 McLean's best seat was open to him. Yet he had 
 veered away to the other side of the table, and 
 his usually roving eye attempted no gallantry. 
 He ate sedately, and it was not until after long 
 weeks and many happenings that Miss Buckner 
 told Lin she had known he was looking at her 
 through the whole of this meal. The straw- 
 hatted proprietor came and went, bearing beef- 
 steak hammered flat to make it tender. The girl 
 seemed the one happy person among us ; for sup- 
 per was going forward with the invariable alkali 
 etiquette, all faces brooding and feeding amid a 
 disheartening silence as of guilt or bereavement 
 that springs from I have never been quite sure 
 what — perhaps reversion to the native animal 
 absorbed in his meat, perhaps a little from every 
 guest's uneasiness lest he drink his co£Eee wrong 
 or stumble in the accepted uses of the fork. In- 
 178 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 deed, a diffident, uncleansed youth nearest Miss 
 Buckner presently wiped his mouth upon the 
 cloth; and Mr. McLean, knowing better than 
 that,, eyed him for this conduct in the presence of 
 a lady. The Uvely strength of the butter must, I 
 think, have reached all in the room; at any rate, 
 the table-cloth lad, troubled by Mr. McLean's 
 eye, now relieved the general silence by observ- 
 ing, chattily: 
 
 "Say, friends, that butter ain't in no trance." 
 
 "If it's too rich for you," croaked the enraged 
 proprietor, "use axle-dope." 
 
 The company continued gravely feeding, while 
 I struggled to preserve the decorum of sadness, 
 and Miss Buckner's face was also unsteady. But 
 sternness mantled in the countenance of Mr. Mc- 
 Lean, until the harmless boy, embarrassed to 
 pieces, offered the untasted smelling-dish to Lin, 
 to me, helped himself, and finally thrust the plate 
 at the girl, saying, in his Texas idiom, 
 
 "Have butter." 
 
 He spoke in the shell voice of adolescence, and 
 on "butter" cracked an octave up into the treble^ 
 Miss Buckner was speechless, and could only shake 
 her head at the plate. 
 
 Mr. McLean, however, thought she was offend- 
 ed. "She wouldn't choose for none," he said to 
 the youth, with appalling calm. "Thank yu' 
 most to death." 
 
 "I guess," fluted poor Texas, in a dove falsetto, 
 "it would go slicker rubbed outside than swal- 
 lered." 
 
 179 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 At this Miss Buckner broke from the table and 
 fled out of the house. 
 
 "You don't seem to know anjrthing," observed 
 Mr. McLean. "What toy-shop did you escape 
 from?" 
 
 "Wind him up! Wind him up!" said the pro- 
 prietor, sticking his head in from the kitchen. 
 
 "Ah, what's the matter with this outfit?" 
 screamed the boy, furiously. "Can't yu' leave a 
 man eat? Can't yu' leave him be? You make 
 me sick!" And he flounced out with his young 
 boots. 
 
 All the while the company fed on unmoved. 
 Presently one remarked. 
 
 "Who's hiring him?" 
 
 "The C. Y. outfit," said another. 
 
 "Half -circle L.," a third corrected. 
 
 "I seen one like him onced," said the first, 
 taking his hat from beneath his chair. "Up in 
 the Black Hills he was. Eighteen seventy-nine. 
 Gosh!" And he wandered out upon his business. 
 One by one the others also silently dispersed. 
 
 Upon going out, Lin and I found the boy pac- 
 ing up and down, eagerly in talk with Miss Buck- 
 ner. She had made friends with him, and he 
 was now smoothed down and deeply absorbed, be- 
 ing led by her to tell her about himself. But on 
 Lin's approach his face clouded, and he made off 
 for the corrals, displaying a sullen back, while I 
 was presenting Mr. McLean to the lady; 
 
 Overtaken by his cow-puncher shyness, Lin 
 was greeting her with ungainly ceremony, when 
 1 80 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 she began at once, "You'll excuse me, but I just 
 had to have my laugh." 
 
 "That's all right, m'm," said he; "don't men- 
 tion it." 
 
 "For that boy, you know — " 
 
 "I'll fix him, m'm. He'll not insult jm' no 
 more. I'll speak to him." 
 
 "Now, please don't! Why — why — you were 
 every bit as bad!" Miss Buckner pealed out, joy- 
 ously. " It was the two of you. Oh dear!" 
 
 Mr. McLean looked crestfallen. "I had no — I 
 didn't go to — " 
 
 "Why, there was no harm! To see him mean 
 so well and you mean so well, and — I know I 
 ought to behave better!" 
 
 "No, yu' oughtn't!" said Lin, with sudden 
 ardor; and then, in a voice of deprecation, 
 "You'll think us plumb ignorant." 
 
 "You know enough to be kind to folks," said 
 she. 
 
 "We'd like to." 
 
 "It's the only thing makes the world go 
 round!" she declared, with an emotion that I 
 had heard in her tone once or twice already. 
 But she caught herself up, and said gayly to me, 
 "And Where's that house you were going to build 
 for a lone girl to sleep in?" 
 
 "I'm afraid the foundations aren't laid yet," 
 said I. 
 
 "Now you gentlemen needn't bother about me." 
 
 " We'll have to, m'm. You ain't used to Separ." 
 
 "Oh, I am no — tenderfoot, don't you call 
 i8i 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 them?" She whipped out her pistol, and held 
 it at the cow-puncher, laughing. 
 
 This would have given no pleasure to me; buA 
 over Lin's features went a glow of delight, and 
 he stood gazing at the pointed weapon and the 
 girl behind it. "My!" he said, at length, almost 
 in a whisper, "she's got the drop on me!" 
 
 "I reckon I'd be afraid to shoot that one of 
 yours," said Miss Buckner. "But this hits a tar- 
 get real good and straight at fifteen yards." And 
 she handed it to him for inspection. 
 
 He received it, hugely grinning, and turned 
 it over and over. "My!" he murmured again. 
 "Why, shucks!" He looked at Miss Buckner 
 with stark rapture, caressing the polished re- 
 volver at the same time with a fond, unconscious 
 thumb. "You hold it just as steady as I could," 
 he said with pride, and added, insinuatingly, "I 
 could learn yu' the professional drop in a morn- 
 ing. This here is a little dandy gun." 
 
 "You'd not trade, though," said she, "for all 
 your flattery." 
 
 "Will yu' trade ?" pounced Lin. " Won't yu' ?" 
 
 "Now, Mr. McLean, I am afraid you're thought- 
 less. How could a girl Uke me ever hold that 
 awful .45 Colt steady?" 
 
 "She knows the brands, too!" cried Lin, in ec- 
 stasy. "See here," he remarked to me with a 
 manner that smacked of command, "we're losipg 
 time right now. You go and tell the agent to 
 hustle and fix his room up for a lady, and I'l' 
 bring her along." 
 
 ,182 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 I found the agent willing, of course, to sleep 
 on the floor of the office. The toy station was 
 also his home. The front compartment held the 
 ticket and telegraph and mail and express chat- 
 tels, and the railing, and room for the public to 
 stand; through a door you then passed to the 
 sitting, dining, and sleeping box; and through 
 another to a cooking-stove in a pigeon-hole. 
 Here flourished the agent and his lungs, and 
 here the company's strict orders bade him sleep 
 in charge ; so I helped him put his room to rights. 
 But we need not have hurried ourselves. Mr. 
 McLean was so long in bringing the lady that 1 
 went out and found him walking and talking 
 with her, while fifty yards away skulked poor 
 Texas, alone. This boy's name was, like himself, 
 of the somewhat unexpected order, being Manas- 
 sas Donohoe. 
 
 As I came towards the new friends they did 
 not appear to be joking, and on seeing me Miss 
 Buckner said to Lin, "Did he know?" 
 
 Lin hesitated. 
 
 "You did know!" she exclaimed, but lost her 
 resentment at once, and continued, very quietly 
 and with a friendly tone, "I reckon you don't 
 like to have to tell folks bad news." 
 
 It was I that now hesitated. 
 
 "Not to a strange girl, anyway!" said she. 
 "Well, now I have good news to tell you. You 
 would not have given me any shock if you had 
 said you knew about poor Nate, for that's the 
 reason — Of cotirse those things can't be se- 
 183 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ca*ets! Why, he's only twenty, sir! How should 
 he know about this world? He hadn't learned 
 the first little thing when he left home five years 
 ago. And I am twenty-three — old enough to be 
 Nate's grandmother, he's^;hat young and thought- 
 less. He couldn't ever realize bad companions 
 when they came around. See that!" She showed 
 me a, pa]»er, taking it out like a precious thing, 
 as indeed it was; for it was a pardon signed by 
 Governor Barker. "And the Governor has let me 
 carry it to Nate myself. He won't know a thing 
 about it till I tell him. The Governor was real 
 kind, and we will never forget him. I reckon 
 Nate must have a mustache by now?" she said 
 to Lin. 
 
 "Yes," Lin answered, gruffly, looking away 
 from her, "he has got a mustache all right." 
 
 "He'll be glad to see you," said I, for some- 
 thing to say. 
 
 "Of course he will! How many hours did you 
 say we will be?" she asked Lin, turning from me 
 again; for Mr. McLean had not been losing time. 
 It was plain that between these two had arisen a 
 freemasonry from which I was already shut out. 
 Her woman's heart had answered his right im- 
 pulse to tell her about her brother, and I had 
 been found wanting! 
 
 So now she listened over again to the hours of 
 stage jolting that "we" had before us, and that 
 lay between her and Nate. "We" would be four 
 — ^herself, Lin, myseU, and the boy Billy. Was 
 Billy the one at supper? Oh no; just Billy 
 184 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Lusk, of Laramie. "He's a kid I'm taking up 
 the country," Lin explained. "Ain't you most 
 tuckered out?" 
 
 "Oh, me!" she confessed, with a laugh and a 
 sigh. 
 
 There again! She had put aside my solicitude 
 lightly, but was willing Lin should know her fa- 
 tigue. Yet, fatigue and all, she would not sleep 
 in the agent's room. At sight of it and the close 
 quarters she drew back into the outer office, so 
 prompted by that inner, unsuspected strictness 
 she had shown me before. 
 
 "Come out!" she cried, laughing. "Indeed, I 
 thank you. But I can't have you sleep on this 
 hard floor out here. No politeness, now! Thank 
 you ever so much. I'm used to roughing it pret- 
 ty near as well as if I was — a cowboy!" And she 
 glanced at Lin. "They're calling forty-seven," 
 she added to the agent. 
 
 "That's me," he said, coming out to the tele- 
 graph instrument. "So you're one of us?" 
 
 "I didn't know forty-seven meant Separ," said 
 I. "How in the world do you know that ?" 
 
 "I didn't. I heard forty-seven, forty-seven, 
 forty-seven, start and go right along, so I guessed 
 they wanted him, and he couldn't hear them from 
 his room." 
 
 "Can yu' do astronomy and Spanish too?" in- 
 quired the proud and smiling McLean. 
 
 "Why, it's nothing! I've been day operator 
 back home. Why is a deputy coming through on 
 a special engine?" 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Please don't say it out loud!" quavered the 
 agent, as the machine clicked its news. 
 
 "Yu' needn't be scared of a girl," said Lin. 
 "Another sheriff! So they're not quit bother- 
 ing us yet." 
 
 However, this meddling was not the com- 
 pany's, but the county's; a sheriff sent to arrest, 
 on a charge of murder, a man named Trampas, 
 said to be at the Sand Hill Ranch. That was 
 near Rawhide, two stations beyond, and the en- 
 gine might not stop at Separ, even to water. So 
 here was no molesting of Separ's liberties. 
 
 "All the saine," Lin said, for pistols now and 
 then still sounded at the corrals, "the boy '11 not 
 understand that till it's explained, and they may 
 act wa3rward first. I'd feel easier if you slept 
 here," he urged to the girl. But she would not. 
 "Well, then, we must rustle some other private 
 place for you. How's the section-house?" 
 
 "Rank," said the agent, "since those Italians 
 used it. The pump engineer has been scouring, 
 but he's scared to bunk there yet himself." 
 
 "Too bad you couldn't try my plan of a 
 freight-car!'" said I. 
 
 "An empty?" she cried. "Is there a clean 
 one?" 
 
 "You've sure never done that?" Lin burst 
 out. 
 
 "So you're scandalized," said she, punishing him 
 
 instantly. "I reckon it does take a decent girl 
 
 to shock you." And while she stood laughing at 
 
 him with robust irony, poor Lin began to stam- 
 
 i86 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 mer that he meant no offence. "Why, to be sure 
 you didn't!" said she. "But I do enjoy you real 
 thoroughly." 
 
 "Well, m'm," protested the wincing cow-punch- 
 er, driven back to addressing her as "ma'am," 
 "we ain't used — " 
 
 "Don't tangle yourself up worse, Mr. McLean. 
 No more am I 'used.' I have never slept in an 
 empty in my life. And why is that ? Just because 
 I've never had to. And there's the difference 
 between you boys and us. You do lots of things 
 you don't like, and tell us. And we put up with 
 lots of things we don't hke, but we never let you 
 find out. I know you meant no offence," she 
 continued, heartily, softening towards her crushed 
 protector, "because you're a gentleman. And 
 lands! I'm not complaining about an empty. 
 That will be rich — if I can have the door shut." 
 
 Upon this she went out to view the cars, Mr. 
 McLean hovering behind her with a devoted, 
 uneasy countenance, and frequently muttering 
 "Shucks!" while the agent and I followed with a 
 lamp, for the dark was come. With our help 
 she mounted into the first car, and then into the 
 next, taking the lamp. And while she scanned 
 the floor and comers, and slid the door back and 
 forth, Lin whispered in my ear: "Her name's 
 Jessamine. She told me. Don't jni' like that 
 name?" So I answered him, "Yes, very much," 
 thinking that some larger flower — ^but still a 
 flower — ^might have been more apt. 
 
 "Nobody seems to have slept in these," said 
 187 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 she, stepping down; and on learning that even 
 the tramp avoided Separ when he could, she ex- 
 claimed, "What lodging could be handier than 
 this! Only it would be so cute if you had a 
 Louavall an' NashvuU car," said she. "Twould 
 seem like m3r old Kentucky home!" And laugh- 
 ing rather sweetly at her joke, she held the lamp 
 up to read the car's lettering. "'D. and R. G.' 
 Oh, that's a way-off stranger! I reckon they're 
 all strange." She went along the train with her 
 lamp. "Yes, 'B. and M.' and 'S. C. and P.' Oh, 
 this is rich! Nate will laugh when he hears. I'll 
 choose 'C, B. and Q.' That's a little nearer my 
 country. What time does the stage start ? Por- 
 ter, please wake 'C, B. and Q.' at six, sharp," 
 said she to Lin. 
 
 From this point of the evening on, I -ttiink of 
 our doings — their doings — ^with a sort of un- 
 changing homesickness. Nothing like them can 
 ever happen again, I know; for it's all gone — 
 settled, sobered, and gone. And whatever whole- 
 somer prose of good -fortune waits in our cup, 
 how I thank my luck for this swallow of frontier 
 poetry which I came in time for! 
 
 To arrange some sort of bed for her was the 
 next thing, and we made a good shake-down — 
 clean straw and blankets and a pillow, and the 
 agent would have brought sheets; but though 
 she would not have these, she did not resist — 
 what do you suppose? — a looking-glass for next 
 morning! And we got a bucket of water and 
 her valise. It was all one to her, she said, in 
 i88 
 
1 LIN McLEAN 
 
 i 
 
 i what car Lin and I put up; and let it be next 
 I door, by all means, if it pleased him to think he 
 ' could watch over her safety better so ; and she 
 shut herself in, bidding us good-night. We began 
 [Spreading straw and blankets for ourselves, when 
 a whistle sounded far and long, and its tone rose 
 in pitch as it came. 
 
 "I'll get him to run right to the corrals," said 
 the agent, "so the sheriff can tell the boys he's 
 not after them." 
 
 "That'll convince 'em he is," said Lin. "Stop 
 him here, or let him go through." 
 
 But we were not to steer the course that events 
 took now. The rails of the main line beside us 
 brightened in wavering parallels as the head- 
 light grew down upon us, and in this same mo- 
 ment, the shoutings at the corrals chorused in a 
 wild, hilarious threat. The burden of the coming 
 engine heavily throbbed in the air and along the 
 steel, and met and mixed with the hard, light 
 beating of hoofs. The sounds approached to- 
 gether like a sort of charge, and I stepped be- 
 tween the freight-cars, where I heard Lin order- 
 ing the girl inside to lie down flat, and could see 
 the agent running about in the dust, flapping 
 his arms to signal with as much coherence as 
 a chicken with its head off. I had very short 
 space for wonder or alarm. The edge of one of 
 my freight-cars glowed suddenly with the immi- 
 nent headlight, and galloping shots invaded the 
 place. The horsemen flew by, overreaching, and 
 leaning back and lugging against their impetus. 
 189 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 They passed in a tangled swirl, and their dust coil- 
 ed up thick from the dark ground and luminous- 
 ly unfolded across the glare of the sharp-halted 
 locomotive. Then they wheeled, and clustered 
 around it where it stood by our cars, its air-brake 
 pumping deep breaths, and the internal steam 
 humming through its bowels; and I came out in 
 time to see Billy Lusk cUmb its front with callow, 
 enterprising shouts. That was child's play; and 
 the universal yell now raised by the horsemen 
 was their child's play too; but the whole thing 
 could so precipitately reel into the fatal that my 
 thoughts stopped. I could only look when I saw 
 that they had somehow recognized the man on 
 the engine for a sheriff. Two had sprung from 
 their horses and were making boisterously tow- 
 ards the cab, while Lin McLean, neither boister- 
 ous nor joking, was going to the cab from my side, 
 with his pistol drawn, to keep the peace. The 
 engineer sat with a neutral hand on the lever, 
 the fireman had run along the top of the coal in 
 the tender and descended and crouched some- 
 where, and the sheriff, cool, and with a good- 
 natured eye upon all parties, was just beginning 
 to explain his errand, when some rider from the 
 crowd cut him short with an invitation to get 
 down and have a drink. At the word of ribald 
 endearment by which he named the sheriff, a 
 passing fierceness hardened the officer's face, and 
 the new yell they gave was less playful. Waiting 
 no more explanations, they swarmed against the 
 locomotive, and McLean pulled himself up on 
 190 
 
\ LIN McLEAN 
 
 ihe step. The loud talking fell at a stroke to let 
 □[usiness go on, and in this silence came the 
 noise of a sliding-door. At that I looked, and 
 they all looked, and stood harmless, like ^Idren 
 surprised. For there on the threshold of the 
 frpight-car, with the interior darkness behind 
 her, and touched by the headlight's diverging 
 rays, stood Jessamine Buckner. 
 
 "Will you gentlemen do me a favor?" said she. 
 "Strangers, maybe, have no right to ask favors, 
 bilt I reckon you'll let that pass this time. For 
 I'm real sleepy!" She smiled as she brought this 
 out. "I've been four days and nights on the 
 cars, and to-morrow I've got to stage to Buffalo. 
 You see I'll not be here to spoil your fun to-mor- 
 row night, and I want boys to be boys just as 
 much as ever they can. Won't you put it off till 
 to-morrow night?" 
 
 In their amazement they found no spokes- 
 man; but I saw Lin busy among them, and that 
 some word was passing through their groups. 
 After the brief interval of stand-still they began 
 silently to get on their horses, while the looming 
 engine glowed and pumped its breath, and the 
 sheriff and engineer remained as they were. 
 
 "Good-night, lady," said a voice among the 
 moving horsemen, but the others kept their 
 abashed native silence; and thus they slowly 
 filed away to the corrals. The figures, in their 
 loose shirts and leathern chaps, passed from the 
 dimness for a moment through the cone of Ught 
 in front of the locomotive, so that the metal 
 191 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 about them made here and there a faint, vanish- 
 ing glint; and here and there in the departing 
 column a bold, half-laughing face turned for a 
 look at the girl in the doorway, and then was gone 
 again into the dimness. 
 
 The sheriff in the cab took off his hat to Miss 
 Buckner, remarking that she should belong to 
 the force; aad as the bell rang and the engine 
 moved, ofE popped young Billy Lusk from his 
 cow-catcher. With an exclamation of horror 
 she sprang down, and Mr. McLean appeared, 
 and, with all a parent's fright and rage, held 
 the boy by the arm grotesquely as the sheriff 
 steamed by. 
 
 "I ain't a-going to chase it," said young Billy, 
 struggling. 
 
 "I've a mind to cowhide you," said Lin. 
 
 But Miss Buckner interposed. "Oh, well," 
 said she, "next time; if he does it next time. 
 It's so late to-night! You'll not frighten us that 
 way again if he lets you off?" she asked Billy. 
 
 "No," said Billy, looking at her with interest. 
 "Father 'd have cowhided me anyway, I guess," 
 he added, meditatively. 
 
 "Do you call him father?" 
 
 "Ah, father's at Laramie," said Billy, with dis- 
 gust. ' ' He'd not stop for your asking. Lin don't 
 bother me much." 
 
 "You quit talking and step up there!" ordered 
 his guardian. "Well, m'm, I guess yu' can sleep 
 good now in there." 
 
 "If it was only an 'L. and N.* I'd not have a 
 192 
 
LIN M(?LEAN 
 
 thing against it! Good-night, Mr. McLean; good- 
 night, young Mr. ' 
 
 "I'm Billy Lusk. I can ride Chalkeye's pinto 
 that bucked Honey Wiggin." 
 
 "I am sure you can ride finely, Mr. Lusk. 
 Maybe you and I can take a ride together. 
 Pleasant dreams!" 
 
 She nodded and smiled to him, and slid her 
 door to; and Billy considered it, remarking: "I 
 like her. What makes her live in a car?" 
 
 But he was drowsing while I told him; and I 
 lifted him up to Lin, who took him in his own 
 blankets, where he fell immediately asleep. One 
 distant whistle showed how far the late engine 
 had gone from us. We left our car open, and I 
 lay enjojdng the cool air. Thus was I drifting 
 off, when I grew aware of a figure in the door. 
 It was Lin, standing in his stockings and not 
 much else, with his pistol. He listened, and then 
 leaped down, light as a cat. I heard some re- 
 pressed talking, and lay in expectancy; but back 
 he came, noiseless in his stockings, and as he slid 
 into bed I asked what the matter was. He had 
 found the Texas boy, Manassas Donohoe, by the 
 girl's car, with no worse intention than keeping 
 a watch on it. "So I gave him to understand,' 
 said Lin, "that I had no objection to him amus- 
 ing himself playing picket-line, but that I guess- 
 ed I was enough guard, and he would find deep 
 healthier for his system." After that 'I went to 
 sleep wholly; but, waking once in the night, 
 thought I heard some one outside, and learned 
 '3 193 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 in the morning from Lin that the boy had not 
 gone until the time came for him to join his out- 
 fit at the corrals. And I was surprised that Lin, 
 the usually good-hearted, should find nothing 
 but mirth in the idea of this unknown, unthanked 
 young sentinel. "Sleeping's a heap better for 
 them kind till they get their growth," was his 
 single observation. 
 
XIII 
 
 BROTHER NATE 
 
 But when Separ had dwindled to toys behind 
 us in the jovimeying stage I told Miss Jessamine, 
 and although she laughed too, it was with a note 
 that young Texas would have liked to hear; and 
 she hoped she might see him upon her return, to 
 thank him. 
 
 "Any Jack can walk around all night," said Mr. 
 McLean, disparagingly. 
 
 "Well, then, and I know a Jack who didn't," 
 observed the young lady. 
 
 This speech caused her admirer to be full of 
 explanations; so that when she saw how readily 
 she could perplex him, and yet how capable and 
 untiring he was about her comfort, helping her 
 out or tucking her in at the stations where we 
 had a meal or changed horses, she enjoyed the 
 hours very much, in spite of their growing awk- 
 wardness. 
 
 But oh, the sparkling, unbashful Lin! Some- 
 times he sat himself beside her to be close, and 
 then he would move opposite, the better to behold 
 her. 
 
 Never, except once long after (when sorrow 
 I9S 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 manfully borne had still further refined his clay), 
 have I heard Lin's voice or seen his look so win- 
 ning. No doubt many a male bird cares nothing 
 what neighbor bird overhears his spring song 
 from the top of the open tree, but I extremely 
 doubt if his lady-love, even if she be a frank, 
 bouncing robin, does not prefer to listen from 
 some thicket, and not upon the public lawn. 
 Jessamine grew silent and almost peevish; and 
 from discourse upon man and woman she hopped, 
 she skipped, she fiew. When Lin looked at his 
 watch and counted the diminished hours be- 
 tween her and Buffalo, she smiled to herself ; but 
 from mention of her brother she shrank, glanc- 
 ing swiftly at me and my well-assumed slumber. 
 And it was with indignation and self-pity that 
 I climbed out in the hot sun at last beside the 
 driver and small Billy. 
 
 "I know this road," piped Billy, oa the box. 
 "I camped here with father when mother was 
 off that time. You can take a left-hand trail by 
 those cottonwoods and strike the mountains." 
 
 So I inquired what game he had then shot. 
 
 "Ah, just a sage-hen. Lin's a-going to let me 
 shoot a bear, you know. What made Lin marry 
 mother when father was around?" 
 
 The driver gave me a look over Billy's head, 
 and I gave him one; and I instructed Billy that 
 people supposed his father was dead. I withheld 
 that his mother gave herself out as Miss Peck in 
 the days when Lin met her on Bear Creek. 
 
 The formidable nine-year-old pondered. "The 
 196 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 geography says they used to have a lot of wives 
 at Salt Lake City. Is there a place where a wom- 
 an can have a lot of husbands?" 
 
 "It don't especially depend on the place," re- 
 marked the driver to me. 
 
 "Because," Billy went on, "Bert Taylor told 
 me in recess that mother 'd had a lot, and I told 
 him he lied, and the other boys they laughed, 
 and I blacked Bert's eye on him, and I'd have 
 blacked the others too, only Miss Wood came out. 
 I wouldn't tell her what Bert said, and Bert 
 wouldn't, and Sophy Armstrong told her. Bert's 
 father found out, and he come round, and I 
 thought he was a-going to lick me about the 
 eye, and he licked Bert! Say, am I Lin's, hon- 
 est?" 
 
 "No, Billy, you're not," I said. 
 
 "Wish I was. They couldn't get me back to 
 Laramie then; but, oh, bother! I'd not go for 
 'em! I'd like to see 'em try! Lin wouldn't leave 
 me go. You ain't married, are you? No more 
 is Lin now, I guess. A good many are, but I 
 wouldn't want to. I don't think anything of 'em. 
 I've seen mother take 'pothecary stuff on the sly. 
 She's whaled me worse than Lin ever does. I 
 guess he wouldn't want to be mother's husband 
 again; and if he does," said Billy, his voice sud- 
 denly vindictive, "I'll quit him and skip." 
 
 "No danger, Bill," said I. 
 
 "How would the nice lady inside please you?" 
 inquired the driver. 
 
 "Ah, pshaw! she ain't after Lin!" sang out 
 197 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Billy, loud and scornful. "She's after her broths 
 er. She's all right, though," he added, approv- 
 ingly. 
 
 At this all talk stopped short inside, reviving 
 in a casual, scanty manner; while unconscious 
 Billy Lusk, tired of one subject, now spoke 
 cheerfully of birds' eggs. 
 
 Who knows the child-soul, young in days, yet 
 old as Adam and the hills? That school-yard 
 slur about his mother was as dim to his under- 
 standing as to the offender's, yet mysterious 
 nature had bid him go to instant war! How 
 foreseeing in Lin to choke the unfounded jest 
 about his relation to Billy Lusk, in hopes to save 
 the boy's ever awakening to the facts of his moth- 
 er's life! "Though," said the driver, an easy- 
 going cynic, "folks with lots of fathers will find 
 heaps of brothers in this country!" But pres- 
 ently he let Billy hold the reins, and at the next 
 station carefully lifted him down and up. "I've 
 knowed that woman, too," he whispered to me. 
 "Sidney, Nebraska. Lusk was off half the time. 
 We laughed when she fooled Lin into marryin' 
 her. Come to think," he mused, as twilight deep- 
 ened around our clanking stage, and small Billy 
 slept sound between us, "there's scarcely a thing 
 in life you get a laugh out of that don't make 
 soberness for somebody." 
 
 Soberness had now visited the pair behind us; 
 
 even Lin's lively talk had quieted, and his tones 
 
 were low and few. But though Miss Jessamine 
 
 at our next change of horses "hoped" I would 
 
 198 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 come inside, I knew she did not hope very eaX' 
 nestly, and outside I remained until Buffalo. 
 
 Journeying done, her face revealed the strain 
 beneath her brave brightness, and the haunting 
 care she could no longer keep from her eyes. 
 The imminence of the jail and the meeting had 
 made her cheeks white and her countenance seem 
 actually smaller; and when, reminding me that 
 we should meet again soon, she gave me her 
 hand, it was ice-cold. I think she was afraid Lin 
 might offer to go with her. But his heart under- 
 stood the lonely sacredness of her next half-hour, 
 and the cow-puncher, standing aside for her to 
 pass, lifted his hat wistfully amd spoke never a 
 word. For a moment' he looked after her with 
 sombre emotion; but the court-house and prison 
 stood near and in sight, and, as plain as if he had 
 said so, I saw him suddenly feel she should not 
 be stared at going up those steps; it must be all 
 alone, the pain and the joy of that reprieve! He 
 turned away with me, and after a few silent steps 
 said, "Wasted! all wasted!" 
 
 "Let us hope — " I began. 
 
 "You're not afool," he broke in, roughly. "You 
 don't hope anything." 
 
 "He'll start life elsewhere," said I. 
 
 "Elsewhere! Yes, keep starting till all the 
 elsewheres know him Hke Powder River knows 
 him. But she! I have had to sit and hear her 
 tell and tell about him; all about back in Ken- 
 tucky playin' around the farm, and how she 
 raised him after the old folks died. Then he got 
 199 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 bigger and made her sell their farm, and she told 
 how it was right he should turn it into money 
 and get his half. I did not dare say a word, for 
 she'd have just bit my head off, and — and that 
 would sure hurt me now!" Lin brought up with 
 a comical chuckle. "And she went to work, and 
 he cleared out, and no more seen or heard of him. 
 That's for five years, and she'd given up tracing 
 him, when one morning she reads in the paper 
 about how her long-lost brother is convicted for 
 forgery. That's the way she knows he's not 
 dead, and she takes her savings off her railroad 
 salary and starts for him. She was that hasty 
 she thought it was Buffalo, New York, till she 
 got in the cars -and read the paper over again. 
 But she had to go as far as Cincinnati, either 
 way. She has paid every cent of the money he 
 stole." We had come to the bridge, and Lin 
 jerked a stone into the quick little river. "She's 
 awful strict in some ways. Thought Buffalo 
 must be a wicked place because of the shops 
 bein' open Sunday. Now if that was all Buf- 
 falo's wickedness! And she thinks divorce is 
 mostly sin. But her heart is a shield for Nate. 
 Her face is as beautiful as her actions," he added. 
 
 "Well," said I, "and would you make such a 
 villain your brother-in-law ?" 
 
 He whirled round and took both my shoulders. 
 ' ' Come walking ! " he urged. ' ' I must talk some. ' ' 
 So we followed the stream out of town towards 
 the mountains. "I came awful near asking hei 
 in the stage," said he. 
 
 zoo 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Goodness,, Lin! give yourself time!" 
 
 "Time can't increase my feelings." 
 
 "Hers, 'man, hers! How many hours have you 
 known her?" 
 
 "Hours and hours! You're talking foolish- 
 ness! What have they got to do with it? And 
 she will listen to me. I can tell she will. I know 
 I can be so she'll listen, and it will go all right, 
 for I'll ask so hard. And everything '11 come 
 out straight. Yu' see, I've not been spending to 
 speak of since Billy's on my hands, and now I'll 
 fix up my cabin and finish my fencing and my 
 ditch — -and she's going to like Box Elder Creek 
 better than Shawhan. She's the first I've ever 
 loved." 
 
 "Then I'd like to ask—" I cried out. 
 
 "Ask away!" he exclaimed, inattentively, in 
 his enthusiasm. 
 
 "When you — " but I stopped, perceiving it im- 
 possible. It was, of course, not the many tran- 
 sient passions on which he had squandered his 
 substance, but the one where faith also had seemed 
 to unite. Had he not married once, innocent of 
 the woman's being already a wife ? But I stopped, 
 for to trench here was not for me or any one. 
 And my pause strangely flashed on him some- 
 thing of that I had in my mind. 
 
 "No," he said, his eyes steady and serious upon 
 me, "don't you ask about the things you're mean- 
 ing." Then his face grew radiant and rather 
 stem. "Do you suppose I don't know she's too 
 good for me ? And that some bygones can't evei 
 
 20I 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "be bygones? But if you," he said, "never come 
 to look away up to a woman from away down, and 
 mean to win her just the same as if you did de- 
 serve her, why, you'll make a turruble mess of the 
 whole business!" 
 
 When we walked in silence for a long while, he 
 lighted again with the blossoming dawn of his 
 sentiment. I thought of the coarse yet taking 
 vagabond of twenty I had once chanced upon, 
 and hunted and camped with since through the 
 years. Decidedly he was not that boy to-day! It' 
 is not true that all of us rise through adversity, 
 any more than that all plants need shadow. Some 
 starve out of the sunshine; and I have seen mis- 
 ery deaden once kind people to everything but 
 self— almost the saddest sight in the world! But 
 Lin's character had not stood well the ordeal of 
 hapbiness, and for him certainly harsh days and 
 responsibility had been needed to ripen the spirit. 
 Yes, Jessamine Buckner would have been much 
 too good for him before that humiliation of his 
 marriage, and this care of young Billy with which 
 he had loaded himself. "Lin," said I, "I will 
 drink your health and luck." 
 
 "I'm healthy enough," said he; and -we came 
 back to the main street and into the main saloon. 
 
 "How d'ye, boys?" said some one, and there 
 was Nate Buckner. " It's on me to-day," he con- 
 tinued, shoving whiskey along the bar; and I 
 saw he was a little drunk. "I'm setting 'em up," 
 he continued. "Why? Why, because" — he 
 looked around for appreciation — "because it's 
 202 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 not every son-of-a-gun in Wyoming gets par- 
 doned by Governor Barker. I'm important, I 
 want you to understand," he pursued to the cold 
 bystander":. "They'll have a picture of me in 
 the Cheyenne paper. 'The Bronco-buster of 
 Powder River!' They can't do without me! If 
 any son-of-a-gun here thinks he knows how to 
 break a colt," he shouted, looking around with 
 the irrelevant fierceness of drink — and then his 
 challenge ebbed vacantly in laughter as the sub- 
 ject blurred in his mind, "You're not drinking, 
 Lin," said he. 
 
 "No," said McLean, "I'm not." 
 
 "Sworn off again? Well, water never did 
 agree with me." 
 
 "Yu' never gave water the chance," retorted 
 the cow-puncher, and we left the place without 
 my having drunk his health. 
 
 It was a grim beginning, this brag attempt to 
 laugh his reputation down, with the jail door 
 scarce closed behind him. "Folks are not going 
 to like that," said Lin, as we walked across the 
 bridge again to the hotel. Yet the sister, left 
 alone here after an hour at most of her brother's 
 company, would pretend it was a matter of 
 course. Nate was not in, she told us at once. 
 He had business to a,ttend to and friends to see; 
 he must get back to Riverside and down in that 
 country where colts were waiting for him. He 
 was the only one the E. K. outfit would allow to 
 handle their young stock. Did we know that? 
 i\nd she was going to stay with a Mrs. Pierce down 
 203 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 there for a while, near where Nate would be 
 working. All this she told us; but when he did 
 not return to dine with her on this first day, I 
 think she found it hard to sustain her wilful 
 cheeriness. Lin offered to take her driving to 
 see the military post and dress parade at retreat, 
 and Cloud's Peak, and Buffalo's various sights; 
 but she made excuses and retired to her room. 
 Nate, however, was at tea, shaven clean, with 
 good clothes, and well conducted. His tone and 
 manner to Jessamine were confidential and caress- 
 ing, and offended Mr. McLean, so that I observed 
 to him that it was scarcely reasonable to be jeal- 
 ous. 
 
 "Oh, no jealousy!" said he. "But he comes 
 in and kisses her, and he kisses her good-night, 
 and us strangers looking on! It's such oncon- 
 troUable affection, yu* see, after never writing 
 for five years. I expect she must have some of 
 her savings left." 
 
 It is true that the sister gave the brother money 
 more than once; and as our ways lay together, I 
 had chances to see them both, and to wonder 
 if her joy at being with him once again was go- 
 ing to last. On the road to Riverside I certain- 
 ly heard Jessamine beg him to return home 
 with her; and he ridiculed such a notion. What 
 proper life for a live man was that dead place 
 back East? he asked her. I thought he might 
 have expressed some regret that they must dwell 
 so far apart, or some intention to visit her now 
 and then; but he said nothing of the sort, though 
 204 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 he spoke volubly of himself and his prospects. I 
 suppose this spectacle of brother and sister had 
 rubbed Lin the wrong way too much, for he held 
 himself and Billy aloof, joining me on the road but 
 once, and then merely to give me the news that 
 people here wanted no more of Nate Buckner; 
 he would be run out of the country, and re- 
 spect for the sister was all that meanwhile saved 
 him. But Buckner, like so many spared criminals, 
 seemed brazenly unaware he was disgraced, and 
 went hailing loudly any riders or drivers we met, 
 while beside him his sister sat close and straight, 
 her stanch affection and support for the world 
 to see. For all she let appear, she might have 
 been bringing him back from some gallant hero- 
 ism achieved; and as I rode along the travesty 
 seemed more and more pitiful, the outcome dark- 
 er and darker. 
 
 At all times is Riverside beautiful, but most 
 beautiful when the sun draws down through the 
 openings of the hills. From each one a stream 
 comes flowing clearly out into the plain, and 
 fields spread green along the margins. It was 
 beneath the long-slanted radiance of evening 
 that we saw Blue Creek and felt its coolness rise 
 among the shifting veils of light. The red bluff 
 eastward, the tall natural fortress, lost its stem 
 masonry of shapes, and loomed a soft towering 
 enchantment of violet and amber and saffron in 
 the changing rays. The cattle stood quiet about 
 the levels, and horses were moving among the 
 restless colts. These the brother bade his sister 
 
 20S 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 look at, for -with them was his glory . and I heard 
 him boasting of his skill — truthful boasting, to 
 be sure. Had he been honest in his dealings, 
 the good-will that man's courage and dashing 
 appearance beget in men would have brought 
 him more employment than he could have under- 
 taken. He told Jessamine his way of breaking a 
 horse that few would dare, and she listened eager- 
 ly. "Do you remember when I used to hold the 
 pony for you to get on?" she said. "You always 
 would scare me, Nate!" And he replied, fluently, 
 Yes, yes; did she see that horse there, near the 
 fence? He was a four-year-old, an outlaw, and 
 she would find no one had tried getting on his 
 back since he had been absent. This was the first 
 question he asked on reaching the cabin, where 
 various neighbors were waiting the mail-rider; 
 and, finding he was right, he turned in pride to 
 Jessamine. 
 
 "They don't know how to handle that horse," 
 said he. "I told you so. Give me a rope." 
 
 Did she notice the cold greeting Nate received ? 
 I think not. Not only was their welcome to her 
 the kinder, but any one is glad to witness bold 
 riding, and this chance made a stir which the 
 sister may have taken for cordiality. But Lin 
 gave me a look; for it was the same here as it 
 had been in the Buffalo saloon. 
 
 "The trick is easy enough," said Nate, arriving 
 
 with his outlaw, and liking an audience. "You 
 
 don't want a bridle, but a rope hackamore like 
 
 this — Spanish style. Then let them run as hard 
 
 2o6 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 as they want, and on a sudden reach down youl 
 arm and catch the hackamore short, close up by 
 the mouth, and jerk them around quick and heavy 
 at full speed. They qidt their fooUng after one 
 or two doses. Now watch your outlaw!" 
 
 He went into the saddle so swift and secure 
 that the animal, amazed, trembled stock-still, then 
 sprang headlong. It stopped, vicious and know- 
 ing, and plunged in a rage, but could do nothing 
 with the man, and bolted again, and away in a 
 straight blind Une over the meadow, when the 
 rider leaned forward to his trick. The horse 
 veered in a jagged swerve, rolled over and over 
 with its twisted impetus, and up on its feet and 
 on without a stop, the man still seated and up- 
 right in the saddle. How we cheered to see it! 
 But the figure now tilted strangely, and some- 
 thing awful and nameless came over us and 
 chilled our noise to silence. The horse, dazed 
 and tamed by the fall, brought its burden tow- 
 ards us, a wobbUng thing, falling by small shakes 
 backward, until the head sank on the horse's 
 rump. 
 
 "Come away," said Lin McLean to Jessamine; 
 and at his voice she obeyed and went, leaning on 
 bis arm. 
 
XIV 
 
 sbpar's vigilante 
 
 Jessamine sat by her brother until he died, 
 twelve hours afterwards, having spoken and 
 known nothing. The whole weight of the horse 
 had crushed him internally. He must have be- 
 come almost instantly unconscious, being held in 
 the saddle by his spurs, which had caught in the 
 hair cinch; it may be that our loud cheer was the 
 last thing of this world that he knew. The inju- 
 ries to his body made impossible any taking him 
 home, which his sister at first wished to do. 
 "Why, I came here to bring him home," she said, 
 with a smile and tone like cheerfulness in wax. 
 Her calm, the unearthly ease with which she spoke 
 to any comer (and she was surrounded with rough 
 kindness), embarrassed the listeners; she saw her 
 calamity clear as they did, but was sleep-walking 
 in it. It was Lin gave her what she needed — the 
 repose of his strong, silent presence. He spoke 
 no sympathy and no advice, nor even did he 
 argue with her about the burial; he perceived 
 somehow that she did not really hear what was 
 said to, her, and that these first griefless, sensible 
 words came from some mechanism of the nerves: 
 208 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 so he kept himself near her, and let her tell her 
 story as she would. Once I heard him say to 
 her, with the same authority of that first "come 
 away": "Now you've had enough of the talking. 
 Come for a walk." Enough of the talking — as if 
 it were a treatment! How did he think of that? 
 Jessamine, at any rate, again obeyed him, and I 
 saw the two going quietly about in the meadows 
 and along the curving brook; and that night she 
 slept well. On one only point did the cow-puncher 
 consult me. 
 
 "They figured to put Nate on top of that bald 
 mound," said he. "But she has talked about the 
 flowers and shade where the old folks lie, and 
 where she wants him to be alongside of them. 
 I've not let her look at him to-day, for — well, she 
 might get the way he looks now on her memory. 
 But I'd like to show you my idea before going 
 fiurther." 
 
 Lin had indeed chosen a beautiful place, and so 
 I told him at the first sight of it. 
 
 "That's all I wanted to know," said he. "Ill 
 fix the rest." 
 
 I believe he never once told Jessamine the body 
 could not travel so far as Kentucky. I think he 
 let her live and talk and grieve from hour to hour, 
 and then led her that afternoon to the nook of 
 sunUght and sheltering trees, and won her con- 
 sent to it thus, for there was Nate laid, and there 
 she went to sit, alone. Lin did not go with her 
 on those walks. 
 
 But now something new was on the fellow's 
 14 209 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 mind. He was plainly occupied with it, whatevei 
 else he was doing, and he had some active cattle- 
 work. On my asking him if Jessamine Buckner 
 had decided when to retire east, he inquired of 
 me, angrily, what was there in Kentucky she could 
 not have in Wyoming? Consequently, though I 
 surmised what he must be debating, I felt myself 
 invited to keep out of his confidence, and I did so. 
 My advice to him would have been ill received, 
 and — as was soon to be made plain — would have 
 done his delicacy injustice. Next, one morning 
 he and Billy were gone. My first thought was 
 that he had joined Jessamine at Mrs. Pierce's, 
 where she was, and left me away over here on 
 Bear Creek, where we had come for part of a week. 
 
 But stuck in my hat-band I found a pencilled 
 farewell. 
 
 Now Mr. McLean constructed perhaps three let- 
 ters in the year — painful, serious events — like 
 an interview with some important person with 
 whom your speech must decorously flow. No 
 matter to whom he was writing, it froze all nat- 
 ure stiff in each word he achieved; and his bald 
 business diction and wild archaic penmanship made 
 documents that I value among my choicest corre- 
 spondence; this one, especially: 
 
 " Wensday four a. m. 
 " Dear Sir this is to Inform you that i have gone to Separ 
 on important bisness where i expect to meet you on your arrival 
 at same point. You will confer a favor and oblidge undersigned 
 by Informing Miss J. Buckner of date (if soon) you fix for re- 
 turning per stage to Separ as Miss J. Buckner may prefer com- 
 pany for the trip being long and poor accommodations. 
 
 " Yours &c. L. McLean." 
 
 2IO 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 This seemed to point but one way; and (un- 
 charitable though it sound) that this girl, so close 
 upon bereavement, should be able to give herself 
 to a lover was distasteful to me. 
 
 But, most extraordinary, Lin had gone away 
 without a word to her, and she was left as plainly 
 in the dark as myself. After her first frank sur- 
 prise at learning of his departure, his name did 
 not come again from her lips, at any rate to me. 
 Good Mrs. Pierce dropped a word one day as to 
 her opinion of men who deceive women into ex- 
 pecting something from them. 
 
 "Let us talk straight," said I. "Do you mean 
 that Miss Buckner says that, or that you say it ?" 
 
 "Why, the poor thing says_ nothing!" exclaimed 
 the lady. "It's like a man to think she would. 
 And I'll not say anything, either, for you're all 
 just the same, except when you're worse; and 
 that Lin McLean is going to know what I think 
 of him next time we meet." 
 
 He did. On that occasion the kind old dame 
 told him he was the best boy in the country, and 
 stood on her toes and kissed him. But mean- 
 while we did not know why he had gone, and 
 Jessamine (though he was never subtle or cruel 
 enough to plan such a thing) missed him, and 
 thus in her loneliness had the chance to learn 
 how much he had been to her. 
 
 Though pressed to stay indefinitely beneath 
 Mrs. Pierce's hospitable roof, the girl, after lin- 
 gering awhile, and going often to that nook in 
 the hill by Riverside, took her departure. She 
 
 211 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 was restless, yet clung to the neighborhood. It 
 was with a wrench that she fixed her going when 
 I told her of my own journey back to the railroad. 
 In Buffalo she walked to the court-house and stood 
 a moment as if bidding this site of one life mem- 
 ory farewell, and from the stage she watched and 
 watched the receding town and mountains. " It's 
 awful to be leaving him!" she said. "Excuse me 
 for acting so in front of you." With the poig- 
 nant emptiness overcoming her in new guise, she 
 blamed herself for not waiting in Illinois until he 
 had been sent to JoUet, for then, so near home, he 
 must have gone with her. 
 
 How could I tell her that Nate's death was the 
 best end that could have come to him? But I 
 said: "You know you don't think it was your 
 fault. You know you would do the same again." 
 She listened to me, but her eyes had no interest 
 in them. "He never knew pain," I pursued, "and 
 he died doing the thing he liked best in the world. 
 He was happy and enjoying himself, and you gave 
 him that. It's bad only for you. Some would 
 talk religion, but I can't." 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "I can think of him so 
 glad to be free. Thank you for saying that 
 about religion. Do you think it's wicked not to 
 want it — to hate it sometimes? I hope it's not. 
 Thank you, truly." 
 
 During our journey she summoned her cheerful- 
 ness, and all that she said was wholesome. In 
 the robust, coarse soundness of her fibre, the 
 wounds of grief would heal and leave no sick- 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ness — perhaps no higher sensitiveness to human 
 sufferings than her broad native kindness already 
 held. We touched upon religion again, and my 
 views shocked her Kentucky notions, for I told 
 her Kentucky locked its reUgion in an iron cage 
 called Sunday, which made it very savage and 
 fond of biting strangers. Now and again I would 
 run upon that vein of deep-seated prejudice that 
 was in her character like some fine wire. In 
 short, our disagreements brought us to terms 
 more familiar than we had reached hitherto. But 
 when at last Separ came, where was I? There 
 stood Mr. McLean waiting, and at the sudden- 
 ness of him she had no time to remember her- 
 self, but stepped out of the stage with such a smile 
 that the ardent cow-puncher flushed and beamed. 
 
 "So I went away without telling you good- 
 bye!" he began, not wisely. "Mrs. Pierce has 
 been circulating war talk about me, you bet!" 
 
 The maiden in Jessamine spoke instantly. ' ' In- 
 deed? There was no special obligation for yoU 
 to call on me, or her to notice if you didn't." 
 
 "Oh!" said Lin, crestfallen. "Yu' sure don't 
 mean that?" 
 
 She looked at him, and was compelled to melt. 
 "No, neighbor, I don't mean it." 
 
 "Neighbor!" he exclaimed; and again, "Neigh- 
 bor," much pleased. "Now it would sound kind 
 o' pleasant if you'd call me that for a steady 
 thing." 
 
 "It would sound kind of odd, Mr. McLean, 
 thank you." 
 
 213 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Blamed if I understand her," cried Lin. 
 'Blamed if I do. But you're going to under- 
 stand me sure quick!" He rushed inside the sta- 
 tion, spoke sharply to the agent, and returned in 
 the same tremor of elation that had pushed him 
 to forwardness with his girl, and with which he 
 seemed near bursting. "I've been here three 
 days to meet you. There's a letter, and I expect 
 I know what's in it. Tubercle has got it here." 
 He took it from the less hasty agent and thrust 
 it in Jessamine's hand. "You needn't to fear. 
 Please open it; it's good news this time, you 
 bet!" He watched it in her hand as the boy of 
 eight watches the string of a Christmas parcel he 
 wishes his father would cut instead of so carefully 
 untie. "Open it," he urged again. "Keepingme 
 waiting this way!" 
 
 "What in the world does all this mean?" cried 
 Jessamine, stopping short at the first sentence. 
 
 "Read," said Lin. 
 
 "You've done this?" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Read, read!" 
 
 So she read, with big eyes. It was an official 
 letter of the railroad, written by the division super- 
 intendent at Edgeford. It hoped Miss Buckner 
 might feel like taking the position of agent at Se- 
 par. If she was willing to consider this, would she 
 stop over at Edgeford, on her way east, and talk 
 with the superintendent? In case the duties 
 were more than she had been accustomed to on 
 the Louisville and Nashville, she could continue 
 east with the loss of only a day. The superin- 
 214 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 tendent believed the salary cotild be arranged 
 satisfactorily. Enclosed please to find an order 
 for a free ride to Edgeford. 
 
 Jessamine turned her wondering eyes on Lin. 
 "You did do this," she repeated, but this time 
 with extraordinary quietness. 
 
 "Yes," said he. "And I am plumb proud of 
 it." 
 
 She gave a rich laugh of pleasure and amuse- 
 ment; a long laugh, and stopped. "Did anybody 
 ever!" she said. 
 
 "We can call each other neighbors, now, yu' 
 see," said the cow-puncher. 
 
 "Oh no! oh no!" Jessamine declared. "Though 
 how am I ever to thank you ?" 
 
 "By not argufying," Lin answered. 
 
 "Oh no, no! I can do no such thing. Don't 
 you see I can't? I believe you are crazy." 
 
 "I've been waiting to hear yu' say that," said 
 the complacent McLean. "I'm not argufying. 
 We'll eat supper now. The east-bound is due 
 in an hour, and I expect you'll be wanting to go 
 on it." 
 
 "And I expect I'll go, too," said the girl. 
 
 "I'll be plumb proud to have jni'," the cow- 
 puncher assented. 
 
 "I'm going to get my ticket to Chicago right 
 now," said Jessamine, again laughing, sunny and 
 defiant. 
 
 "You bet you are!" said the incorrigible Mc- 
 Lean. He let her go into the station serenely. 
 "You can't get used to new ideas in a minute," 
 215 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 he remarked to me. "I've figured on all that, ot 
 course. But that's why," he broke -out, impetu- 
 ously, "I quit you on Bear Creek so sudden. 
 'When she goes back away home,' I'd been say- 
 ing to myself every day, 'what '11 you do then, 
 Lin McLean?' Well, I knew I'd go to Kentucky 
 too. Just knew I'd have to, yu' see, and it was 
 inconvenient, turruble inconvenient — Billy here 
 and my ranch, and the beef round-up comin' — - 
 but how could I let her go and forget me ? Take 
 up, maybe, with some Blue -grass son-of-a-gun 
 back there? And I hated the fix I was in till 
 that morning, getting up, I was joshin' the Vir- 
 ginia man that's after Miss Wood. I'd been say- 
 in' no educated lady would think of a man who 
 talked with an African accent. 'It's repo'ted 
 you have a Southern rival yourself,' says he 
 joshin' back. So I said I guessed the rival would 
 find life uneasy. 'He does,' says he. 'Any man 
 with his voice broke in two halves, and one down 
 in his stomach and one up among the angels, is 
 goin' to feel uneasy. But Texas talks a heap 
 about his lady vigilante iji the freight-car.' 'Vigi- 
 lante!' I said; and I must have jumped, for they 
 all asked where the lightning had struck. And 
 in fifteen minutes after writing you I'd hit the 
 trail for Separ. Oh, I figured things out on that 
 ride!" (Mr. McLean here clapped me on the 
 back.) "Got to Separ. Got the sheriff's address 
 — ^the sherifE that saw her that night they held up 
 the locomotive. Got him to meet me at Edgeford 
 and make a big talk to the superintendent Made 
 216 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 a big talk myself. I said, ' Put that girl in charge 
 of Separ, and the boys '11 quit shooting your 
 water-tank. But Tubercle can't influence 'em.' 
 'Tubercle?' says the superintendent. 'What's 
 that .'" And when I told him it was the agent, he 
 flapped his two hands down on the chair arms 
 each side of him and went to rockin' up and down. 
 I said the agent was just a temptation to the 
 boys to be gay right along, and they'd keep a- 
 shooting. 'You can choose between Tubercle 
 and your tank,' I said; 'but you've got to move 
 one of 'em from Separ if yu' want peace.' The 
 sheriff backed me up good, too. He said a man 
 couldn't do much with Separ the way it was now; 
 but a decent woman would be respected there, 
 and the only question was if she could conduct 
 the business. So I spoke up about Shawhan, and 
 when the whole idea began to soak into that su- 
 perintendent his eyeballs jingled and he looked 
 as wise as a work-ox. ' I'll see her,' says he. And 
 he's going to see her." 
 
 "Well," said I, "you deserve success after 
 thinking of a thing like that! You're wholly 
 wasted punching cattle. But she's going to Chi- 
 cago. By eleven o'clock she will have passed by 
 your superintendent." 
 
 "Why, so she will!" said Lin, aJBEecting sur- 
 prise. 
 
 He baffled me, and he baffled Jessamine. In- 
 deed, his eagerness with her parcels, his assist- 
 ance in checking her trunk, his cheerful exam- 
 ination of check and ticket to be sure they read 
 217 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 over the same route, plainly failed to gratify hei. 
 Her firmness about going was sincere, but she 
 had looked for more dissuasion; and this sprightly 
 abettal of her departure seemed to leave some- 
 thing vacant in the ceremonies. She fell singu- 
 larly taciturn during supper at the Hotel Bruns- 
 wick, and presently observed, 
 
 "I hope I shall see Mr. Donohoe." 
 
 "Texas?" said Lin. "I expect they'll have 
 tucked him in bed by now up at the ranch. The 
 little fellow is growing yet." 
 
 "He can walk around a freight-car all night," 
 said Miss Buckner, stoutly. "I've always wanted 
 to thank him for looking after me." 
 
 Mr. McLean smiled elaborately at his plate. 
 
 "Well, if he's not actually thinking he'll tease 
 me!" cried out Jessamine. "Though he claims 
 not to be foolish like Mr. Donohoe. Why, Mr. 
 McLean, you surely must have been young once! 
 See if you can't remember!" 
 
 "Shucks!" began Lin. 
 
 But her laughter routed him. "Maybe you 
 didn't notice you were young," she said. "But 
 don't you reckon perhaps the men around did.? 
 Why, maybe even the girls kind o' did!" 
 
 "She's hard to beat, ain't she?" inquired Lin, 
 admiringly, of me. 
 
 In my opinion she was. She had her wish, too, 
 about Texas; for we found him waiting on the 
 railroad platform, dressed in his best, to say 
 good-bye. The friendly things she told him left 
 him shuffling and repeating that it was a mis- 
 218 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 take to go, a big mistake ; but when she said the 
 butter was not good enough, his laugh .cracked 
 joyously up into the treble. The train's arrival 
 brought quick sadness to her face, but she made 
 herself bright again with a special farewell for 
 each acquaintance. 
 
 "Don't you ride any more cow-catchers," she 
 warned Billy Lusk, "or I'll have to come back 
 and look after you." 
 
 "You said you and me were going for a ride, 
 and we ain't," shouted the long-memoried nine- 
 year-old. 
 
 "You will," murmured Mr. McLean, oracularly. 
 
 As the train's pace quickened he did not step 
 off, and Miss Buckner cried "Jump!" 
 
 "Too late," said he, placidly. Then he called 
 to me, "I'm hard to beat, too!" So the train 
 took them both away, as I might have guessed 
 was his intention all along. 
 
 "Is that marriage again?" said Billy, anxiously. 
 "He wouldn't tell me nothing." 
 
 "He's just seeing Miss Buckner as far as Edge- 
 ford," said the agent. "Be back to-morrow." 
 
 "Then I don't see why he wouldn't take me 
 along," Billy complained. And Separ laughed. 
 
 But the lover was not back to-morrow. He 
 was capable of anything, gossip remarked, and 
 took up new themes. The sun rose and set, the 
 two trains made their daily slight event and gath- 
 ering; the water-tank, glaring bulkily in the sun, 
 beaconed unmolested; and the agent's natural 
 sleep was unbroken by pistols, for the cow-boys 
 219 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 did not happen to be in town. Separ lay a clot 
 of torpor that I was glad to leave behind me for 
 a while. But news is a strange, permeating 
 substance, and it began to be sifted through the 
 air that Tubercle was going to God's country. 
 That is how they phrased it in cow-camp, mean- 
 ing not the next world, but the Eastern States. 
 
 "It's certainly a shame him leaving after we've 
 got him so good and used to us," said the Vir- 
 ginian. 
 
 "We can't tell him good-bye," said Honey Wig- 
 gin. "Separ '11 be slow." 
 
 "We can give his successor a right hearty wel- 
 come," the Virginian suggested. 
 
 "That's you!" said Honey. "Schemin' mis- 
 chief away ahead. You're the leadin' devil in 
 this country, and just because yu' wear a faith- 
 ful-looking face you're tryin' to fool a poor 
 school-marm." 
 
 "Yes," drawled the Southerner, "that's what 
 I'm aiming to do." 
 
 So now they were curious about the successor, 
 planning their hearty welcome for that official, 
 and werfe encouraged in this by Mr. McLean. 
 He reappeared in the neighborhood with a man- 
 ner and conversation highly casual. 
 
 "Bring your new wife?" they inquired. 
 
 "No; she preferred Kentucky," Lin said. 
 
 "Bring the old one?" 
 
 "No; she preferred Laramie." 
 
 "Kentucky's a right smart way to chase after 
 a girl," said the Virginian. 
 
 220 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Sure!" said Mr. McLean. "I quit at Bdge- 
 ford." 
 
 He met their few remarks so smoothly that 
 they got no joy from him; and being asked had 
 he seen the new agent, he answered yes, that 
 Tubercle had gone Wednesday, and his successor 
 did not seem to be much of a man. 
 
 But to me Lin had nothing to say until noon 
 camp was scattering from its lunch to work, 
 when he passed close, and whispered, "You'll 
 see her to-morrow if you go in with the outfit." 
 Then, looking round to make sure we were alone 
 in the sage-brush, he drew from his pocket, cher- 
 ishingly, a little shining pistol. "Hers," said he, 
 simply. 
 
 I looked at him. 
 
 "We've exchanged," he said. 
 
 He turned the token in his hand, caressing it 
 as on that first night when Jessamine had taken 
 his heart captive. 
 
 "My idea," he added, unable to lift his eyes 
 from the treasure. "See this, too." 
 
 I looked, and there was the word "Neighbor" 
 engraved on it. 
 
 "Her idea," said he. 
 
 "A good one!" I murmured. 
 
 "It's on both, jm' know. We had it put on the 
 day she settled to accept the superintendent's 
 proposition." Here Lin fired his small exchanged 
 weapon at a cotton-wood, striking low. "She can 
 beat that with mine!" he exclaimed, proud and 
 tender. "She took four days deciding at Edge- 
 
 221 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ford, and I learned her to hit the ace of clubs." 
 He showed me the cards they had practised upon 
 during those four days of indecision; he had 
 them in a book as if they were pressed flowers. 
 "They won't get crumpled that way," said he; 
 and he further showed me a tintype. "She's got 
 the other at Separ," he finished. 
 
 I shook his hand with all my might. Yes, he 
 was worthy of her! Yes, he deserved this smooth 
 course his love was running! And I shook his 
 hand again. To tonic her grief. Jessamine had 
 longed for some activity, some work, and he had 
 shown her Wyoming might hold this for her as 
 well as Kentucky. "But how in the world," I 
 asked him, "did you persuade her to stop over 
 at Edgeford at all ?" 
 
 "Yu' mustn't forget," said the lover (and he 
 blushed), "that I had her four hours alone on 
 the train." 
 
 But his face that evening round the fire, when 
 they talked of their next day's welcome to the 
 new agent, became comedy of the highest; and 
 he was so desperately canny in the moments he 
 chose for silence or for comment! He had not 
 been sure of their ignorance until he arrived, 
 and it was a joke with him too deep for laughter. 
 He had a special eye upon the Virginian, his 
 mate in such a tale of mischiefs, and now he 
 led him on. He suggested to the Southerner 
 that caution might be wise; this change at 
 Separ was perhaps some new trick of the com- 
 pany's. 
 
 222 
 
LIN iWcLEAN 
 
 "We mostly take their tricks," observed the 
 Virginian. 
 
 "Yes," said Lin, nodding sagely at the fire, 
 "that's so, too." 
 
 Yet not he, not any one, could have foreseen 
 the mortifjring harmlessness of the outcome. 
 They swept down upon Separ like all the hordes 
 of legend — more egregiously, perhaps, because 
 they were play-acting, and no serious horde 
 would go on so. Our final hundred yards of 
 speed and copious howling brought all dwellers 
 in Separ out to gaze and disappear like rabbits — 
 all save the new agent in the station. Nobody 
 ran out or in there, and the horde whirled up to 
 the tiny, defenceless building and leaped to earth 
 — except Lin and me ; we sat watching. The in- 
 nocent door stood open wide to any cool breeze 
 or invasion, and Honey Wiggin tramped in fore- 
 most, hat lowering over eyes and pistol promi- 
 nent. He stopped rooted, staring, and his mouth 
 came open slowly; his hand went feeling up for 
 his hat, and came down with it by degrees as by 
 degrees his grin spread. Then in a milky voice, he 
 said: "Why, excuse me, ma'am! Good -morn- 
 ing." 
 
 There answered a clear, long, rippling, am- 
 ple laugh. It came out of the open door into 
 the heat; it made the sun-baked air merry; it 
 seemed to welcome and mock; it genially hov- 
 ered about us in the dusty quiet of Separ; for 
 there was no other sound anywhere at all in the 
 ijlace, and the great plain stretched away silent 
 223 
 
LIN McLEAM 
 
 all round it. The bulging water-tank shone over- 
 head in bland, ironic safety. 
 
 The horde stood blank; then it shifted its 
 legs, looked sideways at itself, and in a hesitat- 
 ing clump reached the door, shambled in, and 
 removed its foolish hat. 
 
 "Good-morning, gentlemen," said Jessamine 
 Buckner, seated behind her railing; and various 
 voices endeavored to reply conventionally. 
 
 "If you have any letters, ma'am." said the Vir- 
 ginian, more inventive, "I'll take them. Letters 
 for Judge Henry's." He knew the judge's office 
 was seventy miles from here. 
 
 "Any for the C. Y. ?" muttered another, like- 
 wise knowing better. 
 
 It was a happy, if simple, thought, and most 
 of them inquired for the mail. Jessamine sought 
 carefully, making them repeat their names, which 
 some did guiltily: they foresaw how soon the lady 
 would find out no letters ever came for these 
 names! 
 
 There was no letter for any one present. 
 
 "I'm sorry, truly," said Jessamine behind the 
 railing. "For you seemed real anxious to get 
 news. Better luck next time! And if I make 
 mistakes, please everybody set me straight, for 
 of course I don't understand things yet." 
 
 "Yes, m'm." 
 
 "Good-day, m'm." 
 
 "Thank yu', m'm." 
 
 They got themselves out of the station and into 
 their saddles. 
 
 224. 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "No, she don't understand things yet," solilo- 
 quized the Virginian. "Oh dear, no." He turned 
 his slow, deep eyes upon us. "You Lin McLean," 
 said he, in his gentle voice, "you have cert'nly 
 fooled me plumb through this mawnin'." 
 
 Then the horde rode out of town, chastened 
 and orderly till it was quite small across the sage- 
 brush, when reaction seized it. It sped suddenly 
 and vanished in dust with far, hilarious cries; 
 and here were Lin and I, and here towered the 
 water-tank, shining and shining. 
 
 Thus did Separ's vigilante take possession and 
 vindicate Lin's knowledge of his kind. It was not 
 three days until the Virginian, that lynx observer, 
 fixed his grave eyes upon McLean. "'Neighbor' 
 is as cute a name for a six-shooter as ever I 
 heard," said he. "But she'll never have need of 
 your gun in Separ — only to shoot up peaceful play- 
 in'-cyards while she hearkens to your courtin'." 
 
 That was his way of congratulation to a brother 
 lover. " Plumb strange," he said to me one morn- 
 ing after an hour of riding in silence, "how a man 
 will win two women while another man gets aged 
 waitin' for one." 
 
 "Your hair seems black as ever," said I. 
 
 "My hopes ain't so glossy any more," he an- 
 swered. "Lin has done better this second trip." 
 
 "Mrs. Lusk don't count," said I. 
 
 "I reckon she counted mighty plentiful when 
 he thought he'd got her clamped to him by law- 
 ful marriage. But Lin's lucky." And the Vir- 
 ginian fell silent again. 
 IS 225 
 
"neighbor" 
 
 LucjcY Lin bestirred himself over his work, his 
 plans, his ranch on Box Elder that was one day 
 to be a home for his lady. He came and went, 
 seeing his idea triumph and his girl respected. 
 Not only was she a girl, but a good shot too. 
 And if she and her small, neat home were a 
 sort of possession, the cow-punchers would boast 
 of her to strangers. They would have dealt heav- 
 ily now with the wretch who should trifle with 
 the water-tank. When camp came within visiting 
 distance, you would see one or another shaving 
 and parting his hair. They wrote unnecessary 
 letters, and brought them to mail as excuses for 
 an afternoon call. Honey Wiggin, more original, 
 would look in the door with his grin, and hold 
 up an ace of clubs. "I thought maybe yu' could 
 spare a minute for a shootin'-match," he would 
 insinuate; and Separ now heard no more objec- 
 tionable shooting than this. Texas brdught her 
 presents of game — antelope, sage-chickens — but, 
 shjraess intervening, he left them outside the 
 door, and entering, dressed in all the "Sunday" 
 that he had, would sit dumbly in the lady's pres- 
 226 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ence. I remember his emerging from one of 
 these placid interviews straight into the hands 
 of his tormentors. 
 
 "If she don't notice your clothes, Texas," said 
 the Virginian, "just mention them to her." 
 
 "Now yer've done offended her," shrilled Ma- 
 nassas Donohoe. "She heard that." 
 
 "She'll hear you singin' sooprano," said Honey 
 Wiggin. "It's good this country has reformed, 
 or they'd have you warblin' in some dance-hall 
 and corrupt your morals." 
 
 "You sca'cely can corrupt the morals of a so- 
 prano man," observed the Virginian. "Go and 
 play with Billy till you can talk bass." 
 
 But it was the boldest adults that Billy chose 
 for playmates. Texas he found immature. More- 
 over, when next he came, he desired play with no 
 one. Summer was done. September's full moon 
 was several nights ago; he had gone on his hunt 
 with Lin, and now spelling-books were at hand. 
 But more than this clouded his mind; he had 
 been brought to say good-bye to Jessamine Buck- 
 ner, who had scarcely seen him, and to give her 
 a wolverine skin, a hunting trophy. "She can 
 have it ," he told me . "Hike her. ' ' Then he stole 
 a look at his guardian. "If they get married and 
 send me back to mother," said he, "I'll run away 
 sure." So school and this old dread haunted the 
 child, while for the man, Lin the lucky, who sus- 
 pected nothing of it, time was ever bringing love 
 nearer to his hearth. His Jessamine had visited 
 Box Elder, and even said she wanted chickens 
 227 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 there; since when Mr. McLean might occaaott 
 ally have been seen at his cabin, worrying over 
 barn-yard fowls, feeding and cursing them with 
 equal care. Spring would see him married, he 
 told me, 
 
 "This time right!" he exclaimed. "And I 
 want her to know Billy some more before he 
 goes to Bear Creek." 
 
 "Ah, Bear Creek!" said Billy, acidly. "Why 
 can't I stay home ?" 
 
 "Home sounds kind o' slick," said Lin to me. 
 "Don't it, now? 'Home' is closer than 'neigh- 
 bor,' you bet! Billy, put the horses in the corral, 
 and ask Miss Buckner if we can come and see her 
 after supper. If you're good, maybe she'll take 
 yu' for a ride to-morrow. And, kid, ask her about 
 Laramie." 
 
 Again suspicion qtiivered over Billy's face, and 
 he dragged his horses angrily to the corral. 
 
 Lin nudged me, laughing. " I can rile him every 
 time about Laramie," said he, affectionately, "I 
 wouldn't have believed the kid set so much store 
 by me. Nor I didn't need to ask Jessamine to 
 love him for my sake. What do yu' suppose? 
 Before I'd got far as thinking of Billy at all — 
 right after Edgeford, when my head was just a 
 whirl of joy — Jessamine says to me one day, 
 'Read that.' It was Governor Barker writin' to 
 her about her brother and her sorrow." Lin 
 paused. "And about me. I can't never tell you 
 — ^but he said a heap I didn't deserve. And he 
 told her about me picking up Billy in Denver 
 228 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 streets that time, and doing for him because his 
 own home was not a good one. Governor Barker 
 wrote Jessamine all that; and she said, 'Why did 
 you never tell me?' And I said it wasn't any- 
 thing to tell. And she just said to me, 'It shall 
 be as if he was your son and I was his mother.' 
 And that's the first regular kiss she ever gave 
 me I didn't have to take myself. God bless her! 
 God bless her!" 
 
 As we ate our supper, young Billy burst out of 
 brooding silence: "I didn't ask her about Lara- 
 mie. So there!" 
 
 "Well, well, kid," said the cow-puncher, patting 
 his head, "yu' needn't to, I guess." 
 
 But Billy's eye remained sullen and jealous. 
 He paid slight attention to the picture-book of 
 soldiers and war that Jessamine gave him when 
 we went over to the station. She had her own 
 books, some flowers in pots, a rocking-chair, and 
 a cosey lamp that shone on her bright face and 
 dark dress. We drew stools from the oflBce desks 
 and Billy perched silently on one. 
 
 "Scanty room for company!" Jessamine said. 
 "But we must make out this way — ^till we have 
 another way." She smiled on Lin, and Billy's face 
 darkened. "Do you know," she pursued to me, 
 "with all those chickens Mr. McLean tells me 
 about, never a one has he thought to bring here." 
 
 "Livin' or dead do you want 'em?" inquired 
 Lin, 
 
 "Oh, I'll not bother you. Mr. Donohoe says he 
 will- " 
 
 320 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Texas? Chickens? Him? Then he'll have 
 to steal 'em!" And we all laughed together. 
 
 "You won't make me go back to Laramie, will 
 you?" spoke Billy, suddenly, from his stool. 
 
 "I'd like to see anybody try to make you?" 
 exclaimed Jessamine. " Who says any such 
 thing?" 
 
 "Lin did," said Billy. 
 
 Jessamine looked at her lover reproachfully. 
 "What a way to tease him!" she said. "And 
 you so kind. Why, you've hurt his feelings!" 
 
 "I never thought," said Lin the boisterous. "I 
 wouldn't have." 
 
 "Come sit here, Billy," said Jessamine. " When- 
 ever he teases you, you tell me, and we'll make him 
 behave." 
 
 "Honest?" persisted Billy. 
 
 "Shake hands on it," said Jessamine. 
 
 " 'Cause I'll go to school. But I won't go back 
 to Laramie for no one. And you're a-going to 
 be Lin's wife, honest?" 
 
 "Honest! Honest!" And Jessamine, laugh- 
 ing, grew red beside her lamp. 
 
 "Then I guess mother can't never come back 
 to Lin, either," stated Billy, reUeved. 
 
 Jessamine let fall the child's hand. 
 
 " 'Cause she liked him onced, and he liked her." 
 
 Jessamine gazed at Lin. 
 
 "It's simple," said the cow-puncher. "It's all 
 right." 
 
 But Jessanaine sat by her lamp, very pale. 
 
 "It's all right," repeated Lin in the silence. 
 230 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 shifting his foot and looking down. "Once 1 
 made a fool of myself. Worse than usual." 
 
 "Billy?" whispered Jessamine. "Then you — 
 But his name is Lusk!" 
 
 "Course it is," said Billy. "Father and mother 
 are living in Laramie." 
 
 "It's all straight," said the cow-pimcher. "I 
 never saw her till three years ago. I haven't 
 anything to hide, only — only — only it don't come 
 easy to tell." 
 
 I rose. "Miss Buckner," said I, "he will tell 
 you. But he will not tell you he paid dearly for 
 what was no fault of his. It has been no secret. 
 It is only something his friends and his enemies 
 have forgotten." 
 
 But all the while I was speaking this, Jessa- 
 mine's eyes were fixed on Lin, and her face re- 
 mained white. 
 
 I left the girl and the man and the little boy 
 together, and crossed to the hotel. But its air 
 was foul, and I got my roll of camp blankets to 
 sleep in the clean night, if sleeping-time should 
 come; meanwhile I walked about in the silence. 
 To have taken a wife once in good faith, ignorant 
 she was another's, left no stain, raised no barrier. 
 I could have told Jessamine the same old story 
 myself — or almost; but what had it to do with 
 her at all? Why need she know? Reasoning 
 thus, yet with something left uncleared by reason 
 that I coxild not state, I watched the moon edge 
 into sight, heavy and rich-hued, a melon-slice of 
 glow, seemingly near, like a great lantern tilted 
 231 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 over the plain. The smell of the sage-brush fla- 
 vored the air; the hush of Wyoming folded dis- 
 tant and near things; and all Separ but those 
 three inside the Ughted window were in bed. 
 Dark windows were everywhere else, and looming 
 above rose the water-tank, a dull mass in the 
 night, and forever somehow to me a Sphinx em- 
 blem, the vision I instantly see when I think of 
 Separ. Soon I heard a door creaking. It was 
 Billy, coming alone, and on seeing me he walked 
 up and spoke in a half -a wed voice. 
 
 "She's a-crying," said he. 
 
 I withheld from questions, and as he kept 
 along by my side he said: "I'm sorry. Do you 
 think she's mad with Lin for what he's told her? 
 She just sat, and when she started crying he 
 made me go away." 
 
 "I don't beUeve she's mad," I told Billy; and I 
 sat down on my blanket, he beside me, talking 
 while the moon grew small as it rose over the 
 plain, and the light steadily shone in Jessamine's 
 window. Soon young Billy fell asleep, and I 
 looked at him, thinking how in a way it was he 
 who had brought this trouble on the man who 
 had saved him and loved him. But that man 
 had no such untender thoughts. Once more the 
 door opened, and it was he who came this time, 
 alone also. She did not follow him and stand to 
 watch him from the threshold, though he forgot 
 to close the door, and, coming over to me, stood 
 looking down. 
 
 "What?" I said at length. 
 232 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 I don't know that he heard me. He stooped 
 over Billy and shook him gently. "Wake, son," 
 said he. "You and I must get to our camp 
 now." 
 
 "Now?" said Billy. "Can't we wait till morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 "No, Bon. We can't wait here any more. Go 
 and get the horses and put the saddles on." As 
 Billy obeyed, Lin looked at the lighted window. 
 "She is in there," he said. "She's in there. So 
 near." He looked, and turned to the hotel, from 
 ■which he brought his chaps and spurs and put 
 them on. "I understand her words," he contin- 
 ued. "Her words, the meaning of them. But 
 not what she means, I guess. It will take study- 
 in' over. Why, she don't blame me!" he suddenly 
 said, speaking to me instead of to himself. 
 
 "Lin," I answered, "she has only just heard 
 this, you see. Wait awhile." 
 
 "That's not the trouble. She knows what kind 
 of man I have been, and she forgives that just 
 the way she did her brother. And she knows how 
 I didn't intentionally conceal an3rthing. Billy 
 hasn't been around, and she never realized about 
 his mother and me. We've talked awful open, 
 but that was not pleasant to speak of, and the 
 whole country knew it so long — and I never 
 thought! She don't blame me. She says she 
 vmderstands; but she says I have a wife livin'." 
 
 "That is nonsense," I declared. 
 
 "Yu' mustn't say that," said he. "She don't 
 claim she's a wife, either. She just shakes her 
 233 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 head when I asked her why she feels so. It must 
 be different to you and me from the way it seems 
 to her. I don't see her view; maybe I never can 
 see it; but she's made me feel she has it, and 
 that she's honest, and loves me true — " His 
 voice broke for a moment. "She said she'd 
 wait." 
 
 "You can't have a marriage broken that was 
 never tied," I said. "But perhaps Governor Bar- 
 ker or Judge Henry — " 
 
 "No," said the cow-puncher. "Law couldn't 
 fool her. She's thinking of something back of 
 law. She said she'd wait — always. And when I 
 took it in that this was all over and done, and 
 when I thought of my ranch and the chickens — 
 well, I couldn't think of things at all, and I came 
 and waked Billy to clear out and quit." 
 
 "What did you tell her?" I asked. 
 
 "Tell her? Nothin', I guess. I don't remem- 
 ber getting out of the room. Why, here's actual- 
 ly her pistol, and she's got mine!" 
 
 "Man, man!" said I, "go back and tell her to 
 keep it, and that you'll wait too — always!" 
 
 "Would yu'?" 
 
 "Look!" I pointed to Jessamine standing in 
 the door. 
 
 I saw his face as he turned to her, and I walk- 
 ed toward Billy and the horses. Presently I 
 heard steps on the wooden station, and from its 
 black, brief shadow the two came walking, Lin 
 and his sweetheart, into the moonlight. They 
 were not speaking, but merely walked together 
 234 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 in the clear radiance, hand in hand, like twa 
 children. I saw that she was weeping, and that 
 beneath the tyranny of her resolution her whole 
 loving, ample nature was wrung. But the strange, 
 narrow fibre in her would not yield! I saw them 
 go to the horses, and Jessamine stood while Bil- 
 ly and Lin mounted. Then quickly the cow- 
 puncher sprang down again and folded her in 
 his arms. 
 
 "Lin, dear Lin! dear neighbor!" she sobbed. 
 She could not withhold this last good-bye. 
 
 I do not think he spoke. In a moment the 
 horses started and were gone, flying, rusning 
 away into the great plain, tintil sight and sound 
 of them were lost, and only the sage-brush was 
 there, bathed in the high, bright moon. The last 
 thing I remember as I lay in my blankets was 
 Jessamine's window still lighted, and the water- 
 tank, clear-Uned and black, standing over Separ. 
 
XVI 
 
 RESPONSIBILITY TALKS 
 
 Children have many special endowments, and 
 of these the chiefest is to ask questions that their 
 elders must skirmish to evade. Married people 
 and aunts and uncles commonly discover this, 
 but mere instinct does not guide one to it. A 
 maiden of twenty-three will not necessarily di- 
 vine it. Now except in one unhappy hour of stress 
 and surprise, Miss Jessamine Buckner had been 
 more than equal to life thus far. But never yet 
 had she been shut up a whole day in one room 
 with a boy of nine. Had this experience been 
 hers, perhaps she would not have written to Mr. 
 McLean the friendly and singular letter in which 
 she hoped he was well, and said that she was very 
 well, and how was dear little Billy ? She was glad 
 Mr. McLean had stayed away. That was just like 
 his honorable nature, and what she expected of 
 him. And she was perfectly happy at Separ, and 
 "yours sincerely and always, 'Neighbor.'" Post- 
 script. Talking of Billy Lusk — ^if Lin was busy 
 with gathering the cattle, why not send Billy 
 down to stop quietly with her. She would make 
 him a bed in the ticket-office, and there she would 
 236 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 be to see after him all the time. She knew Lin 
 did not like his adopted child to be too much in 
 cow-camp with the men. She would adopt him, 
 too, for just as long as convenient to Lin — until 
 the school opened on Bear Creek, if Lin so wished. 
 Jessamine wrote a good deal about how much 
 better care any woman can take of a boy of 
 Billy's age than any man knows. The stage-coach 
 brought the answer to this remarkably soon — 
 young Billy with a trunk and a letter of twelve 
 pages in pencil and ink — the only writing of this 
 length ever done by Mr. McLean. 
 
 " I can write a lot quicker than Lin," said Billy, 
 upon arriving. "He was fussing at that away 
 late by the fire in camp, an' waked me up crawling 
 in our bed. An' then he had to finish it next 
 night when he went over to the cabin for my 
 clothes." 
 
 "You don't say!" said Jessamine. And Billy 
 suffered her to kiss him again. 
 
 When not otherwise occupied Jessamine took 
 the letter out of its locked box and read it, or 
 looked at it. Thus the first days had gone finely 
 lit Separ, the weather being beautiful and Billy 
 much out-of-doors. But sometimes the weather 
 changes in Wyoming; and now it was that Miss 
 Jessamine learned the talents of childhood. 
 
 Soon after breakfast this stormy morning Billy 
 observed the twelve pages being taken out of 
 their box, and spoke from his sudden brain. 
 "Honey Wiggin says Lin's losing his grip about 
 girls," he remarked. "He says you couldn't 'a' 
 237 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 downed him onced. You'd 'a' had to marry him. 
 Honey says Lin 'ain't worked it like he done in 
 old times." 
 
 "Now I shotildn't wonder if he was right," said 
 Jessamine, buoyantly. "And that being the case, 
 I'm going to set to work at your things till it 
 clears, and then we'll go for otir ride." 
 
 "Yes," said Billy. "When does a man get too 
 old to marry?" 
 
 "I'm only a girl, you see. I don't know." 
 
 "Yes. Honey said he wouldn't 'a' thought Lin 
 was that old. But I guess he must be thirty." 
 
 "Old!" exclaimed Jessamine. And she looked 
 at a photograph upon her table. 
 
 "But Lin 'ain't been married very much," pur- 
 sued Billy. ' ' Mother's the only one they speak of. 
 You don't have to stay married always, do you?" 
 
 "It's better to," said Jessamine. 
 
 "Ah, I don't think so," said Billy, with dispar- 
 agement. "You ought to see mother and father. 
 I wish you would leave Lin marry you, though," 
 said the boy, coming to her with an impulse of 
 affection. " Why won't you if he don't mind ?" 
 
 She continued to parry him, but this was not a 
 very smooth start for eight in the morning. Mo- 
 ments of lull there were, when the telegraph called 
 her to the front room, and Billy's young mind 
 shifted to inquiries about the cipher alphabet. 
 And she gained at least an hour teaching him to 
 read various words by the soimd. At dinner, too, 
 he was refreshingly silent. But such silences are 
 unsafe, and the weather was still bad. Fouf 
 238 
 
LIN McLEAW 
 
 o'clock found them much where they had been at 
 eight. 
 
 " Please tell me why you won't leave Lin marry 
 you." He was at the window, kicking the wall. 
 
 "That's nine times since dinner," she replied, 
 -Sfith tireless good himior, "Now if you ask me 
 twelve — " 
 
 "You'll tell?" said the boy, swiftly. 
 
 She broke into a laugh. "No. I'll go riding 
 and you'll stay at home. When I was Uttle and 
 wotild ask things beyond me, they only gave me 
 three times." 
 
 "I've got two more, anyway. Ha-ha!" 
 
 "Better save 'em up, though." 
 
 "What did they do to you? Ah, I don't want 
 to go a-riding. It's nasty all over." He stared 
 out at the day against which Separ's doors had 
 been tight closed since morning. Eight hours of 
 furious wind had raised the dust like a sea. "I 
 wish the old train would come," observed Billy, 
 continuing to kick the wall. "I wish I was going 
 somewheres." Smoky, level, and hot, the south 
 wind leapt into Separ across five htmdred un- 
 broken miles. The plain was blanketed in a tawny 
 eclipse. Each minute the near buildings became 
 invisible in a turbulent herd of clouds. Above 
 this travelling blur of the soil the top of the water- 
 tank alone rose bulging into the clear sun. The 
 sand spirals would lick like flames along the bulk 
 of the lofty tub, and soar skyward. It was not 
 shipping season. The freight-cars stood idle in a 
 long hne. No cattle huddled in the corrals. Na 
 239 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 strangers moved in town. No cow-ponies dozed 
 in front of the saloon. Their riders were distant 
 in ranch and camp. Human noise was extinct in 
 Separ. Beneath the thmider of the sultry blasts 
 the place lay dead in its flapping shroud of dust. 
 "Why don't you tell me?" droned Billy, For 
 some time he had been returning, Uke a mosquito 
 brushed away. 
 
 "That's ten times," said Jessamine, promptly. 
 
 "Oh, goodness! Pretty soon I'll not be glad I 
 came. I'm about twiced as less glad now." 
 
 "Well," said Jessamine, "there's a man coming 
 to-day to mend the government telegraph-line 
 between Drybone and McKinney. Maybe he 
 would take you back as far as Box Elder, if you 
 want to go very much. Shall I ask him?" 
 
 Billy was disappointed at this cordial second- 
 ing of his mood. He did not make a direct re- 
 joinder. "I guess I'll go outside now," said he, 
 with a threat in his tone. 
 
 She continued mending his stockings. Finished 
 ones lay rolled at one side of her chair, and upon 
 the other were more waiting her attention. 
 
 "And I'm going to turn back hand-springs on 
 top of all the freight-cars," he stated, more loudly. 
 
 She indulged again in merriment, laughing 
 sweetly at him, and without restraint. 
 
 "And I'm sick of what you all keep a-saying to 
 me!" he shouted. "Just as if I was a baby," 
 
 "Why, Billy, who ever said you were a baby?" 
 
 ' ' All of you do. Honey, and Lin, and you, now. 
 and everybody. What makes you say 'that's nine 
 240 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 times, Billy; oh, Billy, that's ten times,' if yjii 
 don't mean I'm a baby? And you laugh me off, 
 just like they do, and just like I was a regular 
 baby. You won't tell me — " 
 
 "Billy, listen. Did nobody ever ask you some- 
 thing you did not want to tell them?" 
 
 "That's not a bit the same, because — ^because — 
 because I treat 'em square and because it's not 
 their business. But every time I ask anybody 
 'most anything, they say I'm not old enough to 
 understand; and I'll be ten soon. And it is my 
 business when it's about the kind of a mother I'm 
 agoing to have. Suppose I quit acting square, 
 an' told 'em, when they bothered me, they weren't 
 young enough to understand! Wish I had. Guess 
 I will, too, and watch 'em step around." For a 
 moment his mind dwelt upon this, and he whis- 
 tled a revengeful strain. 
 
 " Goodness, Billy!" said Jessamine, at the sight of 
 the next stocking. ' ' The whole heel is scorched ofE. " 
 
 He eyed the ruin with indifference. "Ah, that 
 was last month when I and Lin shot the bear in 
 the swamp willows. He made me dry off my legs. 
 Chuck it away." 
 
 "And spoil the pair? No, indeed!" 
 
 "Mother always chucked 'em, an' father 'd buy 
 new ones till I skipped from home. Lin kind o' 
 mends 'em." 
 
 "Does he?" said Jessamine, softly. And she 
 looked at the photograph. 
 
 "Yes. What made you write him for to let me 
 come and bring my stockin's and things ?" 
 i6 241 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 "Don't you see, Billy, there is so little work at 
 this station that I'd be looking out of the window 
 all day just the pitiful way you do?" 
 
 " Oh ! " Billy pondered. ' ' And so I said to Lin, " 
 he continued, "why didn't he send down his own 
 clothes, too, an' let you fix 'em all. And Honey 
 Wiggin laughed right in his coffee-cup, so it all 
 sploshed out. And the cook he asked me if 
 mother used to mend Lin's clothes. But I guess 
 she chucked 'em like she always did father's and 
 mine. I was with father, you know, when mother 
 was married to Lin that time." He paused again, 
 while his thoughts and fears struggled. "But 
 Lin says I needn't ever go back," he went on, 
 reasoning and confiding to her. "Lin don't like 
 mother any more, I guess." His pondering grew 
 still deeper, and he looked at Jessamine for some 
 while. Then his face wakened with a new theory. 
 "Don't Lin like you any more?" he inquired. 
 
 "Oh," cried Jessamine, crimsoning, "yes! Why, 
 he sent you to me!" 
 
 "Well, he got hot in camp when I said that 
 about sending his clothes to you. He quit supper 
 pretty soon, and went away off a walking. And 
 that's another time they said I was too young. 
 But Lin don't come to see you any more." 
 
 "Why, I hope he loves me," murmured Jessa- 
 mine. "Always." 
 
 "Well, I hope so too," said Billy, earnestly. 
 
 "For I like you. When I seen him show you our 
 
 cabin on Box Elder, and the room he had fixed 
 
 ior you, I was glad you were coming to be my 
 
 242 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 mother. Mother used to be awful. I wouldn't 
 'a' minded her licking me if she'd done other 
 things. Ah, pshaw! I wasn't going to stand 
 that." Billy now came close to Jessamine. "I 
 do wish you woidd come and live with me and 
 Lin," sajd he. "Lin's awful nice." 
 
 "Don't I know it?" said Jessamine, tenderly. 
 
 "'Cause I heard you say you were going to 
 marry him," went on Billy. "And I seen him 
 kiss you, and you let him that time we went away 
 when you found out about mother. And you're 
 not mad, and he's not, and nothing happens at all, 
 all the same! Won't you tell me, please?" 
 
 Jessamine's eyes were glistening, and she took 
 him in her lap. She was not going to tell him that 
 he was too young this time. But whatever things 
 she had hoped to say to the boy were never 
 said. 
 
 Through the noise of the gtjla came the steadier 
 sound of the train, and tne girl rose quickly to 
 preside over her ticket-office and duties behind 
 the railing in the front room of the station. The 
 boy ran to the window to watcb the great event 
 of Separ's day. The locomotive loomed out from 
 the yellow clots of drift, paused at the water-tank, 
 and then with steam and humming came slowly 
 on by the platform. Slowly its long; dust-choked 
 train emerged trundling behind it, and ponder- 
 ously halted. There was no one to go. No one 
 came to buy a ticket of Jessamine. The con- 
 ductor looked in on business, but she. had no tel- 
 egraphic orders for him. The express agent 
 243 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 'lumped off and looked in for pleasure. He re- 
 ceived his daily smile and nod of friendly discour- 
 agement. Then the light bundle of mail was 
 flung inside the door. Separ had no mail to go 
 out. As she was picking up the letters young 
 Billy passed her like a shadow, and fled out. Two 
 passengers had descended from the train, a 
 man and a large woman. His clothes were loose 
 and careless upon him. He held valises, and 
 stood uncertainly looking about him in the storm. 
 Her firm, heavy body was closely dressed. In her 
 hat was a large, handsome feather. Along between 
 the several cars brakemen leaned out, watched 
 her, and grinned to each other. But her big, 
 hard-shining blue eyes were fixed curiously upon 
 the station where Jessamine was. 
 
 "It's all night we may be here, is it?" she said 
 to the man, harshly. 
 
 "How am I to help that?" he retorted. 
 
 "I'll help it. If this hotel's the sty it used to 
 be, I'll walk to Tommy's. I've not saw him since 
 I left Bear Creek." 
 
 She stalked into the hotel, while the man went 
 slowly to the station. He entered, and found 
 Jessamine behind her railing, sorting the slim 
 mail. ' 
 
 ' ' Good-evening, ' ' he said. ' ' Excuse me. There 
 was to be a wagon sent here." 
 
 " For the telegraph-mender ? Yes, sir. It came 
 Tuesday. You're to find the pole-wagon at Dry- 
 bone." 
 
 This news was good, and all that he wished to 
 244 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 know. He could drive out and escape a night at 
 the Hotel Brunswick. But he lingered, because 
 Jessaniine spoke so pleasantly to him. He had 
 heard of her also. 
 
 "Governor Barker has not been around here?" 
 he said. 
 
 "Not yet, sir. We understand he is expected 
 through on a hunting-trip." 
 
 "I suppose there is room for two and a trunk 
 on that wagon?" 
 
 "I reckon so, sir." Jessamine glanced at the 
 man, and he took himself out. Most men took 
 themselves out if Jessamine so willed; and it was 
 mostly achieved thus, in amity. 
 
 On the platform the man found his wife again. 
 
 "Then I needn't to walk to Tommy's," she said. 
 "And we'll eat as we travel. But you'll wait till 
 I'm through with her." She made a gesture tow- 
 ard the station. 
 
 "Why — ^why — ^what do you want with her? 
 Don't you know who she is?" 
 
 "It was me told you who she was, James Lusk. 
 You'll wait till I've been and asked her after Lin 
 McLean's health, and till I've saw how the Ukes 
 of her talks to the likes of me." 
 
 He made a feeble protest that this would do no 
 one any good. 
 
 "Sew yourself up, James Lusk. If it has been 
 your idea I come with yus clear from Laramie to 
 watch yus plant telegraph-poles in the sage-brush, 
 why, you're off. I 'ain't heard much o' Lin since 
 the day he learned it was you and not him that 
 
 24S 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 was my husband. And I've come back in this 
 cotmtry to have a look at my old friends — and" 
 (she laughed loudly and nodded at the station) 
 "my old friends' new friends!" 
 
 Thus ordered, the husband wandered away to 
 find his wagon and the hoirse. 
 
 Jessamine, in the office,- had finished her station 
 duties and returned to her needle. She sat con- 
 templating the scorched sock of Billy's, and heard 
 a heavy step at the threshold. She turned, and 
 there was the large woman with the feather quiet- 
 ly surveying her. The words which the stranger 
 spoke then were usual enough for a beginning. 
 But there was something of threat in the strong 
 animal countenance, something of laughter ready 
 to break out. Much beauty of its kind had evi- 
 dently been in the face, and now, as substitute for 
 what was gone, was the brag look of assertion that 
 it was still all there. Many stranded travellers 
 knocked at Jessamine's door, and now, as always, 
 she offered the hospitalities of her neat abode, the 
 only room in Separ fit for a woman. As she 
 spoke, and the guest surveyed and listened, the 
 door blew shut with a crash. 
 
 Outside, in a shed, Billy had placed the wagon 
 between himself and his father. 
 
 "How you have grown!" the man was saying; 
 and he smiled. "Come, shake hands. I did not 
 think to see you here." 
 
 "Dare you to touch me!" Billy screamed. 
 "No, I'll never come with you. Lin says I 
 needn't to." 
 
 2AS 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 The man passed his hand across his forehead, 
 and leaned against the wheel. "Lord, Lord!" he 
 muttered. 
 
 His son warily slid out of the shed and left him 
 leaning there. 
 
XVII 
 
 RE-ENTER THE NEW GIRL 
 
 Lin McLean, bachelor, sat out in front of his 
 cabin, looking at a small bright pistol that lay in 
 his hand. He held it tenderly, cherishing it, and 
 did not cease slowly to poUsh it! Revery filled his 
 eyes, and in his whole face was sadness unmasked, 
 because only the animals were there to perceive 
 his true feelings. SunUght and waving shadows 
 moved together upon the green of his pasture, 
 cattle and horses loitered in the opens by the 
 stream. Down Box Elder's course, its valley and 
 golden-chimneyed bluffs widened away into the 
 level and the blue of the greater valley. Up- 
 stream the branches and shining, quiet leaves en- 
 tered the mountains where the rock chimneys 
 narrowed to a gateway; a citadel of shafts and 
 turrets, crimson and gold above the filmy emerald 
 of the trees. Through there the road went up from 
 the cotton-woods into the cool quaking asps and 
 pines, and so across the range and away to Separ. 
 Along the ridge-pole of the new stable, two hun- 
 dred yards down-stream, sat McLean's turkeys, 
 and cocks and hens walked in front of him here 
 by his cabin and fenced garden. Slow smoke rose 
 348 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 from the cabin's chimney into the air, in which- 
 were no sounds but the running water and the 
 afternoon chirp of birds. Amid this frame- 
 work of a home the cow-puncher sat, lonely, in- 
 attentive, polishing the treasured weapon as if it 
 were not already long clean. His target stood 
 some twenty steps in front of him — a small cot- 
 tonwood-tree, its trunk chipped and honeycombed 
 with bullets which he had fired into it each day 
 for memory's sg.ke. Presently he lifted the pistol 
 and looked at its name — ^the word "Neighbor" 
 engraved upon it. 
 
 "I wonder,", said he, aloud, "if she keeps the 
 rust oflE mine?" Then he Ufted it slowly to his- 
 lips and kissed the word "Neighbor." 
 
 The clank of wheels sounded on the road, and 
 he put the pistol quickly down. Dreaminess van- 
 ished from his face. He looked around alertly,, 
 but no one had seen him. The clanking was still 
 among the trees a little distance up Box Eider. 
 It approached deliberately, while he watched for 
 the vehicle to emerge upon the open where his 
 cabin stood; and then they came, a man and 
 a woman. At sight of her Mr. McLean half rose, 
 but sat down again. Neither of them had noticed 
 him, sitting as they were in silence and the drow- 
 siness of a long drive. The man was weak-faced, 
 with good looks sallowed by dissipation, and a 
 vanquished glance of the eye. As the woman had 
 stood on the platform at Separ, so she sat now, 
 upright, bold, and massive. The brag of past 
 beauty was a habit settled upon her stolid feat- 
 249 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 ures. Both sat inattentive to each other and to 
 everjrthing around them. The wheels turned 
 slowly and with a dry, dead noise, the reins bellied 
 loosely to the. shafts, the horse's head hung low. 
 So they drew close. Then the man saw McLean; 
 and color came into his face and went away. 
 
 "Good-evening," said he, clearing his throat. 
 "We heard you was in cow-camp." 
 
 The cow-puncher noted how he tried to smile, 
 and a freakish change crossed his own counte- 
 nance. He nodded slightly, and stretched his 
 legs out as he sat. 
 
 "You look natural," said the woman, familiarly. 
 
 "Seem to be fixed nice here," continued the 
 man. "Hadn't heard of it. Well, we'll be go- 
 ing along. Glad to have seen you." 
 
 "Your wheel wants greasing," said McLean, 
 briefly, his eye upon the man. 
 
 "Can't stop. I expect she'll last to Drybone. 
 Good-evening." 
 
 "Stay to supper," said McLean, always seated 
 on his chair. 
 
 "Can't stop, thank you. I expect we can last 
 to Drybone." He twitched the reins. 
 
 McLean levelled a pistol at a chicken, and 
 knocked off its head. "Better stay to supper," 
 he suggested, very distinctly. 
 
 "It's business, I tell you. I've got to catch 
 Governor Barker before he — " 
 
 The pistol cracked, and a second chicken shuf- 
 fled in the dust. "Better stay to supper," drawl- 
 ed McLean. 
 
 250 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 The man looked up at his wife. 
 
 "So yus need me!" she broke out. " 'Ain't got 
 heart enough in yer played-out body to stand up 
 to a man. We'll eat here. Get down." 
 
 The husband stepped to the ground. "I didn't' 
 suppose you'd want — " 
 
 "Ho! want? What's Lin, or you, or anything 
 to me? Help me out." 
 
 Both men came forward. She descended, lean- 
 ing heavily upon each, her blue staring eyes fixed 
 upon the cow-puncher. 
 
 "No, yus 'ain't chanv'td," she said. "Same in 
 your looks and same in your actions. Was you 
 expecting you could scare me, you, Lin McLean?" 
 
 "I just wanted chickens for supper," said he. 
 
 Mrs Lusk gave a hard high laugh. "I'll eat 
 'em. It's not I that cares. As for — " She 
 stopped. Her eye had fallen upon the pistol and 
 the name "Neighbor." "As for you," she con- 
 tinued to Mr. Lusk, "don't you be standing dumb 
 same as the horse." 
 
 "Better take him to the stable, Lusk," said 
 McLean. 
 
 He picked the chickens up, showed the' woman 
 to the best chair in his room, and went into his 
 kitchen to cook supper for three. He gave his 
 guests no further attention, nor did either of them 
 come in where he was, nor did the husband rejoin 
 the wife. He walked slowly up and down in the 
 air, and she sat by herself in the room. Lin's 
 steps as he made ready round the stove and table, 
 and Lusk's slow tread out in the setting sunlight, 
 251 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 were the only sounds about the cabin. When the 
 host looked into the door of the next room to an- 
 nounce that his meal was served, the woman sat 
 in her chair no longer, but stood with her back 
 to him by a shelf. She gave a slight start at his 
 summons, and replaced something. He saw that 
 she had been examining "Neighbor," and his face 
 hardened suddenly to fierceness as he looked at 
 her; but he repeated quietly that she had better 
 come in. Thus did the three sit down to their 
 meal. Occasionally a word about handing some 
 dish fell from one or other of them, but nothing 
 more, until Lusk took out his watch and men- 
 tioned the hour. 
 
 "Yu've not ate especially hearty," said Lin, 
 resting his arms upon the table. 
 
 "I'm going," asserted Lusk. "Governor Barker 
 may start out. I've got my interests to look 
 after." 
 
 "Why, sure," said Lin. "I can't hope you'll 
 waste ail your time on just me." 
 
 Lusk rose and looked at his wife. " It 11 be ten 
 now before we get to Drybone," said he. And he 
 went down to the stable. 
 
 The woman sat still, pressing the crumbs of 
 her bread. ' ' I know you seen me, ' ' she said, with- 
 out looking at him. 
 
 ' ' Saw you when ?' ' 
 
 "I knowed it. And I seen how you looked at 
 
 me." She sat twisting and pressing the crumb. 
 
 Sometimes it was round, sometimes it was a cube, 
 
 now and then she flattened it to a disk. Mr. 
 
 252 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 McLean seemed to have nothing that he wished 
 to reply. 
 
 "If you claim that pistol is yotim," she said 
 next, "I'll tell you I know better. If you ask 
 me whose should it be if not youm, I would not 
 have to guess the name. She has talked to me, 
 and me to her." 
 
 She was still looking away from him at the 
 bread-crumb, or she cotdd have seen that Mc- 
 Lean's hand was trembUng as he watched her, 
 leaning on his arms. 
 
 "Oh yes, she was willing to talk to me!" The 
 woman uttered another sudden laugh. ' ' I knowed 
 about her — ^all. Things get heard of in this 
 world. Did not all about you and me come to 
 her knowledge in its own good time, and it done 
 and gone how many years ? My, my, my!" Her 
 voice grew slow and absent. She stopped for a 
 moment, and then more rapidly resumed: "It 
 had travelled around about you and her Uke it 
 always will travel. It was known how you had 
 asked her, and how she had told you she would 
 have you, and then told you she would not when 
 she learned about you and me. Folks that knowed 
 yns and folks that never seen yus in their lives 
 had to have their word about her facing you down 
 you had another wife, though she knowed the 
 truth about me being married to Lusk and him 
 livin' the day you married me, and ten and twenty 
 marriages could not have tied you and me up, no 
 matter how honest you swore to no hinderance. 
 Folks said it was plain she did not want yus. It 
 253 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 give me a queer feelin' to see that girl. It give 
 me a wish to tell her to her face that she did not 
 love yus and did not know love. Wait — ^wait, 
 Lin! Yu' never hit me yet." 
 
 " No," said the cow-puncher. "Nor now. I'm 
 not Lusk." 
 
 "Yu' looked so — so bad, Lin. I never seen yu' 
 look so bad in old days. Wait, now, and I must 
 tell it. I wished to laugh in her face and say, 
 ' What do you know about love ? ' So I walked in. 
 Lin, she does love yus!" 
 
 "Yes," breathed McLean. 
 
 "She was sittin' back in her room at Separ. 
 Not the ticket-office, but — " 
 
 "I know," the cow-puncher said. His eyes 
 were burning. 
 
 "It's snug, the way she has it. 'Good-after- 
 noon,' I says. 'Is this Miss Jessamine Buck- 
 ner?'" 
 
 At his sweetheart's name the glow in Lin's eyes 
 seemed to quiver to a flash. 
 
 "And she spoke pleasant to me — pleasant and 
 gay-like. But a woman can tell sorrow in a wom- 
 an's eyes. And she asked me would I rest in 
 her room there, and what was my name. 'They 
 tell me you claim to know it better than I do,' I 
 says. 'They tell me you say it is Mrs. McLean.' 
 She put her hand on her breast, and she keeps 
 lookin' at me without never speaking. 'Maybe I 
 am not so welcome now,' I says. 'One minute,' 
 says she. 'Let me get used to it.' And she sat 
 down. 
 
 2S4 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Lin, she is a square-lookin' girl. I'll say that 
 for her. 
 
 "I never thought to sit down onced myself; I 
 don't know why, but I kep' a-standing, and I took 
 in that room of hers. She had flowers and things 
 around there, and I seen your picture standing 
 on the table, and I seen your six-shooter right 
 by it — and, oh, Lin, hadn't I knowed your face 
 before ever she did, and that gun you used to let 
 me shoot on Bear Creek? It took me that sud- 
 den! Why, it rushed over me so I spoke right 
 out different from what I'd meant and what I 
 had ready fixed up to say. 
 
 "'Why did you do it?' I says to her, while she 
 was a-sitting. ' How could you act so, and you a 
 woman ?' She just sat, and her sad eyes made me 
 madder at the idea of her. 'You have had real 
 sorrow,' says I, 'if they report correct. You have 
 knowed your share of death, and misery, and 
 hard work, and all. Great God! ain't there 
 things enough that come to yus uncalled for and 
 natural but you must run around huntin' up 
 more that was leavin' yus alone and givin' ynis a 
 chance? I knowed him onced. I knowed your 
 Lin McLean. And when that was over, I knowed 
 for the first time how men can be different.' I'm 
 started, Lin, I'm started. Leave me go on, and 
 when I'm through I'll quit. 'Some of 'em, any- 
 way,' I says to her, 'has hearts and self-respect, 
 and ain't hogs clean through.' 
 
 "'I know,' she says, thoughtful-like. 
 
 "And at her whispering that way I gets madder. 
 
 2SS 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 '"You know!' I says then. 'What is it that 
 you know? Do you know that you have hurt a 
 good man's heart? For onced I hurt it myself, 
 though different. And hurts in them kind of 
 hearts stays. Some hearts is that luscious and 
 pasty you can stab 'em and it closes up so yn'd 
 never suspicion the place — but Lin McLean! Nor 
 yet don't yus believe his is the kind that breaks — 
 if any kind does that. You may sit till the gray 
 hairs, and you may wall up your womanhood, 
 but if a man has got manhood Uke him, he will 
 never sit till the gray hairs. Grief over losin' 
 the best will not stop him from searchin' for a 
 second best after awhile. He wants a home, and 
 he has got a right to one,' says I to Miss Jessa- 
 mine. 'You have not walled up Lin McLean,' I 
 says to her. Wait, Lin, wait. Yus needn't to tell 
 me that's a lie. I know a man thinks he's walled 
 up for a while." 
 
 "She could have told you it was a lie," said the 
 cow-puncher. 
 
 "She did not. 'Let him get a home,' says she. 
 'I want him to be happy.' 'That flash in your 
 eyes talks different,' says I. 'Sure enough yus 
 wants him to be happy. Sure enough. But not 
 happy along with Miss Second Best.' 
 
 "Lin, she looked at me that piercin'! 
 
 "And I goes on, for I was wound away up. 
 'And he will be happy, too,' I says. 'Miss Second 
 Best will have a talk with him about your pict- 
 ure and little "Neighbor,"' which he'll not send 
 back to yus, because the hurt in his heart is there. 
 256 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 And he ■will keep 'em out of sight somewheres 
 after his talk with Miss Second Best.' Lin, Lin, 
 I laughed at them words of mine, but I was that 
 wound up I was strange to myself. And she 
 watchin' me that way! And I says to her: 'Miss 
 Second Best will not be the crazy thing to think 
 I am any wife of his standing in her way. He 
 will tell her about me. He will tell how onced 
 he thought he was solid married to me till Lusk 
 came back; and she will drop me out of sight 
 along with the rest that went nameless. They 
 was not oncomprehensible to you, was they.' 
 You have learned something by livin', I guess! 
 And Lin — ^your Lin, not mine, nor never mine in 
 heart for a day so deep as he's youm right now — 
 he has been gay — gay as any I've knowed. Why, 
 look at that face of his! Could a boy with a face 
 like that help bein' gay? But that don't touch 
 what's the true Lin deep down. Nor will his 
 deep-down love for you hinder him like it will 
 hinder you. Don't you know men and us is dif- 
 ferent when it comes to passion? We're all one 
 thing then, but they ain't simple. They keep 
 along with lots of other things. I can't make 
 yns know, and I guess it takes a woman like I 
 have been to learn their nature. But you did 
 know he loved you, and you sent him away, and 
 you'll be homeless in yer house when he has done 
 the right thing by himself and found another girl.' 
 "Lin, all the while I was talkin' all I knowed 
 to her, without knowin' what I'd be sayin' next, 
 for it come that tmexpected, she was lookin' at 
 
 17 257 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 me with them steady eyes. And all she says 
 when I quit was: 'If I saw him I would tell him 
 to find a home.'" 
 
 "Didn't she tell yu' she'd made me promise to 
 keep away from seeing her?" asked the cow- 
 puncher. 
 
 • Mrs. Lusk laughed. "Oh, you innocent!" said 
 she. 
 
 "She said if I came she would leave Separ," 
 muttered McLean, brooding. 
 
 Again the large woman laughed out, but more 
 harshly. 
 
 "I have kept my promise," Lin continued. 
 
 "Keep it some more. Sit here rotting in your 
 chair till she goes away. Maybe she's gone." 
 
 "What's that?" said Lin. But still she only 
 laughed "harshly. ' ' I could be there by to-morrow 
 night," he murmured. Then his face softened. 
 "She would never do such a thing!" he said, to 
 himself. 
 
 He had forgotten the woman at the table. 
 While she had told him matters that concerned 
 him he had listened eagerly. Now she was of no 
 more interest than she had been before her story 
 was begtm. She looked at his eyes as he sat 
 thinking and dwelling upon his sweetheart. She 
 looked at him, and a longing welled up into her 
 face. A certain youth and heavy beauty relighted 
 the features. 
 
 "You are the same, same Lin every^vays," she 
 said. "A woman is too many for you still, Lin!" 
 she whispered. 
 
 as 8 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 At her sttmmons he looked up from his revery. 
 
 "Lin, I wotdd not have treated you so." 
 
 The caress that filled her voice was plain. His 
 look met hers as he sat qtdte still, his arms on 
 the table. Then he took his turn at laughing. 
 
 "You!" he said. "At least I've had plenty of 
 education in you." 
 
 "Lin, Lin, don't talk that brutal to me to-day. 
 If yus knowed how near I come shooting myself 
 with 'Neighbor.' That would have been funny! 
 I knowed yus wanted to tear that pistol out of 
 my hand because it was hem. But ynis never did 
 such things to me, fer there's a gentleman in you 
 somewheres, Lin. And ytis didn't never hit me, 
 not even when ycni come to know me well. And 
 when I seen yavL so unexpected again to-night, 
 and you just the same old Lin, scaring Lusk with 
 shooting them chickens, so comic and splendid, I 
 could 'a' just kiUed Lusk sittin' in the wagon. 
 Say, Lin, what made yus do that, anjrway?" 
 
 "I can't hardly say," said the oow-puncher. 
 "Only noticing him so turruble anxious to quit 
 me — ^well, a man acts without thinking." 
 
 "You always did, Lin. You was always a 
 comical genius. Lin, them were good times." 
 
 "Which times?" 
 
 "You know. You can't tell me you have for- 
 got." 
 
 "I have not forgot much. What's the sense in 
 this?" 
 
 "Yus never loved me!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Shucks!" 
 
 259 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 "Lin, Lin, is it all over? You know yus loved 
 me on Bear Creek. Say you did. Only say it 
 was once that way." And as he sat, she came 
 and put her arms round his neck. For a mo- 
 ment he did not move, letting himself be held; 
 and then she kissed him. The plates crashed as 
 he beat and struck hei down upon the table. He 
 was on his feet, cursing himself. As he went out 
 of the door, she lay where she had fallen beneath 
 his fist, looking after him and smiling. 
 
 McLean walked down Box Elder Creek through 
 the trees towards the stable, where Lusk had 
 gone to put the horse in the wagon. Once he 
 leaned his hand against a big cotton-wood, and 
 stood still with half-closed eyes. Then he con- 
 tinued on his way. "Lusk!" he called, presently, 
 and in a few steps more, "Lusk!" Then, as he 
 came slowly out of the trees to meet the hus- 
 band he began, with quiet evenness, "Your wife 
 wants to know — ' ' But he stopped. No husband 
 was there. Wagon and horse were not there. 
 The door was shut. The bewildered cow-ptmcher 
 looked up the stream where the road went, and 
 he looked down. Out of the sky where daylight 
 and stars were faintly shining together sounded 
 the long cries of the nighthawks as they sped 
 and swooped to their hunting in the dusk. From 
 among the trees by the stream floated a cooler 
 air, and distant and close by sotmded the plash- 
 ing water. About the meadow where Lin stood 
 his horses fed, quietly crunching. He went to 
 the door, looked in, and shut it again. He walked 
 260 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 to his shed and stood contemplating his own 
 wagon alone there. Then he lifted away a piece 
 of trailing vine from the gate of the corral, while 
 the turkeys moved their heads and watched him 
 from the roof. A rope was hanging from the 
 corral, and seeing it, he dropped the vine. He 
 opened the corral gate, and walked quickly back 
 into the middle of the field, where the horses saw 
 him and his rope, and scattered. But he ran and 
 herded them, whirling the rope, and so drove 
 them into the corral, and flung his noose over 
 two. He dragged two saddles — ^men's saddles — 
 from the stable, and next he was again at his 
 cabin door with the horses saddled. She was sit- 
 ting qmte still by the table where she had sat 
 during the meal, nor did she speak or move when 
 she saw him look in at the door. 
 
 "Lusk has gone," said he. "I don't know what 
 he expected you would do, or I would do. But 
 we wilj catch him before he gets to Drybone." 
 
 She looked at him with her dumb stare. 
 "Gone?" she said. 
 
 "Get up and ride," said McLean. "You are 
 going to Drybone." 
 
 "Drybone?" she echoed. Her voice was tone- 
 less and dull. 
 
 He made no more explanations to her, but 
 went quickly about the cabin. Soon he had set 
 it in order, the dishes on their shelves, the table 
 clean, the fire in the stove arranged; and all 
 these movements she followed with a sort of 
 blank mechanical patience. He made a small 
 261 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 btindle for his own journey, tied it bebind his 
 saddle, brought her horse beside a stump. When 
 at his sharp order she came out, he locked his 
 cabin and hung the key by a window, where 
 travellers could find it and be at home. 
 
 She stood looking where her husband had slunk 
 off. Then she laughed. "It's about his size," she 
 murmured. 
 
 Her old lover helped her in silence to mount 
 into the man's saddle — this they had often done 
 together in former years — ^and so they took their 
 way down the silent road. They had not many 
 miles to go, and after the first two lay behind 
 them, when the horses were limbered and had 
 been put to a canter, they made time quickly. 
 They had soon passed out of the trees and past- 
 ures of Box Elder and came among the vast low 
 stretches of the greater valley. Not even by day 
 was the river's course often discernible through 
 the ridges and cheating sameness of this wilder- 
 ness; and beneath this half-darkness of stars and 
 a quarter moon the sage spread shapeless to the 
 looming mountains, or to nothing. 
 
 "I will ask you one thing," said Lin, after ten 
 miles. 
 
 The woman made no sign of attention as she 
 rode beside him. 
 
 "Did I understand that she — Miss Buckner, I 
 mean — ^mentioned she might be going away from 
 Separ?" 
 
 "How do I know what you understood.?" 
 
 "I thought you said — " 
 262 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Don't you bother me, Lin McLean." Her 
 laugh rang out, loud and forlorn — one brief burst 
 that startled the horses and that must have 
 sounded far across the sage-brush. "You men 
 are rich," she said. 
 
 They rode on, side by side, and saying nothing 
 after that. The Drybone road was a broad trail, 
 a worn strip of bareness going onward over the 
 endless shelvings of the plain, visible even in this 
 light; and presently, moving upon its grayness 
 on a hill in front of them, they made out the 
 wagon. They hastened and overtook it. 
 
 "Put your carbine down," said McLean to 
 Lusk. "It's not robbers. It's your wife I'm 
 bringing you." He spoke very quietly. 
 
 The husband addressed no word to the cow- 
 puncher. "Get in, then," he said to his wife. 
 
 "Town's not far now," said Lin. "Maybe 
 you would prefer riding the balance of the way?" 
 
 "I'd — " But the note of pity that she felt in 
 McLean's question overcame her, and her utter- 
 ance choked. She nodded her head, and the 
 three continued slowly climbing the hill together. 
 
 From the narrows of the steep, sandy, weather- 
 beaten banks that the road slanted upward 
 through for a while, they came out again upon 
 the irmnensity of the table-land. Here, abruptly, 
 like an ambush, was the whole unsuspected river 
 close below to their right, as if it had emerged 
 from the earth. With a circling sweep from 
 somewhere out in the gloom it cut in close to the 
 lofty mesa beneath tall, clean-graded descents oi 
 ' 263 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 sand, smooth as a railroad embankment. As they 
 paused on the level to breathe their horses, the 
 wet gulp of its eddies rose to them through the 
 stillness. Up-stream they could make out the 
 light of the Drybone bridge, but not the bridge 
 itself; and two lights on the farther bank showed 
 where stood the hog-ranch opposite Drybone. 
 They went on over the table-land and reached 
 the next herald of the town, Drybone's chief his- 
 torian, the graveyard. Beneath its slanting head- 
 boards and wind-shifted sand lay inany more peo- 
 ple than lived in Drybone. They passed by the 
 fence of this shelterless acre on the hill, and 
 shoutings and high music began to reach them. 
 At the foot of the hill they saw the sparse lights 
 and shapes of the town where ended the gray 
 strip of road. The many soimds — ^feet, voices, 
 and music — grew clearer, unravelling from their 
 muffled confusion, and the fiddling became a time 
 that could be known. 
 
 "There's a dance to-night," said the wife to the 
 husband. "Hurry." 
 
 He drove as he had been driving. Perhaps he 
 had not heard her. 
 
 "I'm telling you to hurry," she repeated. "My 
 new dress is in that wagon. There'll be folks 
 to welcome me here that's older friends than 
 you." 
 
 She put her horse to a gallop down the broad 
 
 road towards the music and the older friends. 
 
 The husband spoke to his horse, cleared his throat 
 
 and spoke louder, cleared his throat again and 
 
 264 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 this time his sullen voice carried, and the animal 
 started. So Lusk went ahead of Lin McLean, 
 following his wife with the new dress at as good 
 a pace as he might. If he did not want her com- 
 pany, perhaps to be alorie with the cow-puncher 
 was still less to his mind. 
 
 "It ain't only her he's stopped caring for," 
 mused Lin, as he rode slowly along. "He don't 
 care for himself any more." 
 
xvm 
 
 "ambrosier. honey-doo." 
 
 To-day, Drybone has altogether returned to 
 the dust. Even in that day its hour could have 
 been heard beginning to sound, but its inhabi- 
 tants were rather deaf. Gamblers, saloon-keepers, 
 murderers, outlaws, male and female — all were 
 so busy with their cards, their lovers, and their 
 bottles as to make the place seem yotmg and 
 vigorous; but it was second childhood which had 
 set in. 
 
 Drybone had known a wholesome, adventurous 
 youth, where manly lives and deaths were plenty. 
 It had been an army post. It had seen horse and 
 foot, and heard the tnmipet. Brave wives had 
 kept house for their captains upon its bluffs. 
 Winter and summer they had made the best of 
 it. When the War Department ordered the cap- 
 tains to catch Indians, the wives bade them God- 
 speed. When the Interior Department ordered 
 the captains to let the Indians go again, still they 
 made the best of it. You must not waste Indians. 
 Inffians were a source of revenue to so many peo- 
 ^-^0 in Washington and elsewhere. But the proc- 
 "^ss of catching Indians, armed with weapons sold 
 266 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 them by friends of the Interior Department, was 
 not entirely harmless. Therefore, there came to 
 be graves in the Drybone graveyard. The pale, 
 weather -washed head-boards told all about it: 
 "Sacred to the memory of Private So-and-So, 
 killed on the Dry Cheyenne, May 6, 1875." O^ 
 it would be, "Mrs. So-and-So, found scalped on 
 Sage Creek." But even the financiers at Wash- 
 ington could not wholly preserve the Indian in 
 Drybone's neighborhood. As the cattle by ten 
 thousands came treading with the next step of 
 civilization into this huge domain, the soldiers 
 were taken away. Some of them went West to 
 fight more Indians in Idaho, Oregon, or Arizona. 
 The battles of the others being done, they went 
 East in better coffins to sleep where their mothers 
 or their conu^ades wanted them. Though wind 
 and rain wrought changes upon the hill, the 
 ready-made graves and boxes which these sol- 
 diers left behind proved heirlooms as serviceable 
 in their way as were the tenements that the 
 living had bequeathed to Drybone. Into these 
 empty barracks came to dwell and do business 
 every joy that made the cow-puncher's holiday, 
 and every himted person who was baffling the 
 sheriff. For the sheriff must stop outside the line 
 of Drybone, as shall presently be made clear. 
 The captain's quarters were a saloon now; pro- 
 fessional cards were going in the adjutant's office 
 night and day; and the commissary building 
 made a good dance-hall and hotel. Instead of 
 guard-mounting, you would see a horse-race on 
 267 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 the parade-groiind, and th^e was no provost- 
 sergeant to gather up the broken bottles and old 
 boots. Heaps of these choked the rusty foun- 
 tain. In the tufts of yellow, ragged grass that 
 dotted the place plentifully were lodged many 
 aces and queens and ten-spots, which the Dry- 
 bone wind had blown wide from the doors out of 
 which they had been thrown when a new pack 
 was called for inside. Among the grass tufts 
 would lie visitors who had applied for beds too 
 late at the dance-hall, frankly sleeping their 
 whiskey ofE in the morning air. 
 
 Above, on the hill, the graveyard quietly 
 chronicled this new epoch of Drybone. So-and- 
 so was seldom killed very far out of town, and 
 of course scalping had disappeared. "Sacred 
 to the memory of Four-ace Johnston, acci- 
 dently shot, Sep. 4, 1885." Perhaps one is still 
 there unaltered: "Sacred to the memory of 
 Mrs. Ryan's babe. Aged two months." This 
 unique corpse had succeeded in dying with its 
 boots off. 
 
 But a succession of graves was not always 
 needed to read the changing tale of the place, 
 and how people died there; one grave would often 
 be enough. The soldiers, of course, had kept tree- 
 less Drybone supplied with wood. But in these 
 latter days wood was very scarce. None grew 
 nearer than twenty or thirty miles — ^none, that is, 
 to make boards of a sufficient width for epitaphs. 
 And twenty miles was naturally far to go to hew 
 a board for a man of whom you knew perhaps 
 268 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 nothing but what he said his name was, and to 
 whom you owed nothing, perhaps, but a trifling 
 poker debt. Hence it came to pass that head- 
 boards grew into a sort of directory. They were 
 light to lift from one place to another. A single 
 coat of white paitit would wipe out the first ten- 
 ant's name sufficiently to paint over it the next 
 comer's. By this thrifty habit the original boards 
 belonging to the soldiers could go round, keeping 
 pace with the new civilian population; and though 
 at first sight you might be puzzled by the layers 
 of names still visible beneath the white paint, you 
 could be sure that the clearest and blackest was 
 the one to which the present tenant had an- 
 swered. 
 
 So there on the hill lay the graveyard, steadily 
 writing Drybone's history, and making that his- 
 tory lay the town at the bottom — one thin line of 
 houses framing three sides of the old parade- 
 ground. In these slowly rotting shells people 
 rioted, believing the golden age was here, the 
 age when everybody should have money and no- 
 body should be arrested. For Drybone soil, you 
 see, was still government soil, not yet handed 
 over to Wyoming; and only government could 
 arrest there, and only for government crimes. 
 But government had gone, and seldom worried 
 Drybone! The spot was a postage-stamp of 
 sanctuary pasted in the naiddle of Wyoming's big 
 map, a paradise for the Four-ace Johnstons. 
 Only, you must not steal a horse. That was 
 really wicked, and brought you instantly to the 
 269 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 notice of Drybone's one of&cial — ^the coroner! 
 For they did keep a coroner — ^Judge Slagham- 
 mer. He was perfectly illegal, and lived next 
 door in Albany County. But that county paid 
 fees and mileage to keep tally of Drybone's cas- 
 ualties. His wife owned the dance-hall, and be- 
 tween their industries they made out a living. 
 And all the citizens made out a living. The 
 happy cow-ptmchers on ranches far and near still 
 earned and instantly spent the high wages still 
 paid them. With their, bodies full of youth and 
 their pockets full of gold, they rode into town by 
 twenties, "by fifties, and out again next morning, 
 penniless always and happy. And then the Fotir- 
 ace Johnstons would sit card-playing with each 
 other till the innocents should come to town 
 again. 
 
 To-night the innocents had certainly come to 
 town, and Drybone was furnishing to them all its 
 joys. Their many horses stood tied at every post 
 and comer — patient, experienced cow-ponies, well 
 knowing it was an all-night afEair. The. talk and 
 laughter of the riders was in the saloons; they 
 leaned joking over the bars, they sat behind their 
 cards at the tables, they strolled to the post-trad- 
 er's to buy presents for their easy sweethearts, 
 their boots were keeping audible time with the 
 fiddle at Mrs. Slaghammer's. From the multi- 
 tude and vigor of the sounds there, the dance was 
 being done regularly. "Regularly" meant that 
 upon the conclusion of each set the gentleman 
 led his lady to the bar and invited her to choose; 
 270 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 and it was also regular that the lady should choose. 
 Beer and whiskey were the alternatives. 
 
 Lin McLean's horse took him across the square 
 without guiding from the cow-puncher, who sat 
 absently with his hands folded upon the horn of 
 his saddle. This horse, too, was patient and ex- 
 perienced, and could not know what remote 
 thoughts filled his master's mind. He looked 
 around to see why his master did not get off 
 hghtly, as he had done during so many gallant 
 years, and hasten in to the conviviaUty. But the 
 lonely cow-puncher sat mechanically identifying 
 the horses of acquaintances. 
 
 "Toothpick Kid is here," said he, "and. Limber 
 Jim, and the Doughie. You'd think he'd stay 
 away after the trouble he — I expect that pinto 
 is Jerky Bill's." 
 
 "Go home!" said a hearty voice. 
 
 McLean eagerly turned. For the moment his 
 face lighted from its sombreness. "I'd forgot 
 you'd be here," said he. And he sprang to the 
 ground. "It's fine to see you." 
 
 "Go home!" repeated the Governor of Wyo- 
 ming, shaking his ancient friend's hand. "You 
 in Drybone to-night, and claim you're reformed.'' 
 Fie!" 
 
 "Yu' seem to be on hand yourself," said the 
 cow-puncher, bracing to be jocular, if he could. 
 
 "Me! I've gone fishing. Don't you read the 
 papers? If we poor governors can't lock up 
 the State House and take a whirl now and 
 then—" 
 
 271 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "Doc," interrupted Lin, "it's plumb fine to see 
 yu'!" Again he shook hands. 
 
 "Why, yes! we've met here before, you and I." 
 His Excellency the Hon. Amory W. Barker, M.D., 
 stood laughing, familiar and genial, his sound 
 white teeth shining. But behind his round spec- 
 tacles he scrutinized McLean. For in this second 
 hand-shaking was a fervor that seemed a grasp, 
 a reaching out, for comfort. Barker had passed 
 through Separ. Though an older acquaintance 
 than Billy, he had asked Jessanaine fewer and dif- 
 ferent questions. But he knew what he knew. 
 "Well, Drybone's the same old Drybone," said 
 he. "Sweet-scented hole of iniquity! Let's see 
 how you waik nowadays." 
 
 Lin took a few steps. 
 
 "Pooh! I said you'd never get over it." And 
 His Excellency beamed with professional pride. 
 His thoughts went back to those doctor days 
 when he had set the boy McLean's leg; and be- 
 fore it was properly knit the boy had escaped 
 from the hospital to revel loose in Drybone on 
 such another night as this. Soon he had been 
 carried back, with the fracture split open again. 
 
 "It shows, does it?" said Lin. "Well, it don't 
 usually. Not except when I'm — ^when I'm — " 
 
 "Down?" suggested his Excellency. 
 
 "Yes, Doc. Down," the cow-puncher con- 
 fessed. 
 
 Barker looked into his friend's clear hazel eyes. 
 Beneath their dauntless sparkle was something 
 that touched the Governor's good heart. "I've 
 272 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 got some whiskey along on the trip— Eastern 
 whiskey," said he. "Come over to my room 
 awhile." 
 
 "I used to sleep all night onced," said McLean,, 
 as they went. "Then I come to know difEerent. 
 But I'd never have believed just mere thoughts 
 could make yu' — ^make yu' feel like the steam 
 was only half on. I eat, yu' know!" he stated, 
 suddenly. "And I expect one or two in camp 
 lately have not foimd my muscle lacking. Feel 
 me, Doc." 
 
 Barker dutifully obeyed, and praised the ex- 
 cellent sinews. 
 
 Across from the dance-hall the whining of the 
 fiddle came, high and gay; feet blurred the talk 
 of voices, and voices rose above the trampling of 
 feet. Here and there some lurking form stum- 
 bled through the dark among the rubbish; and 
 clearest sound of all, the light crack of billiard- 
 balls reached dry and far into the night. Barker 
 contemplated the stars and calm splendid dimness 
 of the plain. "'Though every prospect pleases, 
 and only man is vile,'" he quoted. "But don't 
 tell the Republican party I said so." 
 
 "It's awful true, though. Doc. I'm vile myself. 
 Yu' don't know. Why, / didn't know!" 
 
 And then they sat down to confidences and 
 whiskey; for so long as the world goes round a 
 man must talk to a man sometimes, and both 
 must drink over it. The cow-puncher unburdened 
 himself to the Governor; and the Governor filled 
 up his friend's glass with the Eastern whiskey, 
 i8 273 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 and nodded hi^ spectacles, and listened, and ad- 
 vised, and said he should have done the same, and 
 like the good Governor that he was, never remem- 
 bered he was Governor at all with political friends 
 here who had begged a word or two. He became 
 just Dr. Barker again, the young hospital surgeon 
 (the hospital that now stood a ruin) , and Lin was 
 again his patient — Lin, the sun-burnt free-lance 
 of nineteen, reckless, engaging, disobedient, his 
 leg broken and his heart light, with no Jessamine 
 or conscience to rob his salt of its savor. While 
 he now told his troubles, the quadrilles fiddled 
 away careless as ever, and the crack of the billiard- 
 balls sounded as of old. 
 
 "Nobody has told you about this, I expect," 
 said the lover. He brought forth the Uttle pistol, 
 "Neighbor." He did- not hand it across to Bar- 
 ker, but walked over to Barker's chair, and stood 
 holding it for the doctor to see. When Barker 
 reached for it to see better, since it was half hid- 
 den in the cow-puncher's big hand, Lin yielded it 
 to him, but still stood and soon drew it back. 
 "I take it around," he said, "and when one of 
 those stories comes along, like there's plenty of, 
 that she wants to get rid of me, I just kind o' take 
 a look at 'Neighbor' when I'm off where it's 
 handy, and it busts the story right out of my 
 mind. I have to tell you what a fool I am." 
 
 "The whiskey's your side," said Barker. "Go 
 on." 
 
 "But, Doc, my courage has quit me. They see 
 what I'm thinking about just like I was a tender- 
 274 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 foot trying his first blufE. I can't stick it out no 
 more, and I'm going to see her, come what will. 
 I've got to. I'm going to ride right up to her 
 window and shoot ofE 'Neighbor,' and if she don't 
 come out I'll know — " 
 
 A knocking came at the Governor's room, and 
 Judge Slaghammer entered. "Not been to our 
 dance, Governor?" said he. 
 
 The Governor thought that perhaps he was 
 tired, that perhaps this evening he inust forego 
 the pleasure. 
 
 "It may be wiser. In your position it may be 
 advisable," said the coroner. "They're getting 
 on rollers over there. We do not like trouble 
 in Drybone, but trouble comes to us — as every- 
 where." 
 
 "Shooting," suggested his Excellency, recalling 
 his hospital practice. 
 
 "Well, Governor, you know how it is. Our 
 boys are as big-hearted, as any in this big-hearted 
 Western country. You know, Governor. Those 
 generous, warm-blooded spirits are ever ready for 
 anything." 
 
 "Especially after Mrs. Slaghammer's whiskey," 
 remarked the Governor. 
 
 The coroner shot a shrewd eye at Wyoming's 
 chief executive. It was not politically harmoni- 
 ous to be reminded that but for his wife's liquor 
 a number of fine yoxmg men, with nothing save 
 youth untrained and health the matter with them, 
 would to-day be riding their horses instead of 
 sleeping on the hill. But the coroner wanted sup- 
 27s 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 port in the next campaign. "Boys will be boys." 
 said he. "They ain't pulled any guns to-night. 
 But I come away, though. Some of 'em's making 
 up pretty free to Mrs. Lusk. It ain^t suitable for 
 me to see too much. Lusk says he's after you," 
 he mentioned incidentally to Lin. "He's fiUin' 
 up, and says he's after you." McLean nodded 
 placidly, and with scant politeness. He wished 
 this visitor would go. But Judge Slaghammer 
 had noticed the whiskey. He filled himself a 
 glass. "Governor, it has my compliments," said 
 he. "Ambrosier. Honey-doo." 
 
 "Mrs. Slaghammer seems to have a large gather- 
 ing," said Barker. 
 
 "Good boys, good boys!" The judge blew 
 importantly, and waved his arm. "Bull- whack- 
 ers, cow-punchers, mule-skinners, tin-horns. All 
 spending generous. Governor, once more! Am- 
 brosier. Honey-doo." He settled himself deep in 
 a chair, and closed his eyes. 
 
 McLean rose abruptly. "Good-night," said he. 
 "I'm going to Separ." 
 
 "Separ!" exclaimed Slaghammer, rousing slight- 
 ly. "Oh, stay with us, stay with us." He closed 
 his eyes again, but sustained his smile of office. 
 
 "You know how well I wish you," said Barker 
 to Lin. "I'll just see you start." 
 
XIX 
 
 DESTINY AT DRYBONB 
 
 Forthwith the friends left the coroner qtiiet 
 beside his glass, and walked towards the horses 
 through Drybone's gaping quadrangle. The dead 
 ruins loomed among the tights of the card-halls, 
 and always the keen jockey cadences of the fid- 
 dle sang across the night. But a calling and con- 
 fusion were set up, and the tune broke off. 
 
 "Just like old times!" said his Excellency. 
 "Where's the dump-pile!" It was where it should 
 be, close by, and the two stepped behind it to be 
 screened from wandering bullets. "A man don't 
 forget his habits," declared the Governor. "Makes 
 me feel young again." 
 
 "Makes me feel old," said McLean. "Hark!" 
 
 "Sounds like my name," said Barker. They 
 listened. "Oh yes. Of course. That's it. They're 
 shouting for the doctor. But we'll just spare 
 them a minute or so to finish their excitement." 
 
 "I didn't hear any shooting," said McLean. 
 "It's something, though." 
 
 As they waited, no shots came; but still the 
 fiddle was silent, and the murmur of many voices 
 277 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 grew in the dance-hall, while single voices wan- 
 dered outside, calling the doctor's name. 
 
 "I'm the Governor on a fishing-trip," said he. 
 "But it's to be done, I suppose." 
 
 They left their dimip-hill and proceeded over 
 to the dance. The musician sat high and soli- 
 tary upon two starch-boxes, fiddle on knee, star- 
 ing and waiting. Half the floor was bare; on 
 the other half the revellers were densely clotted. 
 At the crowd's outer rim the young horsemen, 
 flushed and swaying, retained their gaudy dance 
 partners strongly by the waist, to be ready when 
 the music should resume. "What is it?" they 
 asked. "Who is it?" And they looked in across 
 heads and shoulders, inattentive to the caresses 
 which the partner-s gave them. 
 
 Mrs. Lusk was who it was, and she had taken 
 poison here in their midst, after many dances and 
 drinks. 
 
 "Here's Doc!" cried an older one. 
 
 "Here's Doc!" chorused the young blood that 
 had come into this country since his day. And 
 the throng caught up the words: "Here's Doc! 
 here's Doc!" 
 
 In a moment McLean and Barker were sundered 
 from each other in this flood. Barker, sucked in 
 towards the centre but often eddied back by those 
 who meant to help him, heard the mixed expla- 
 nations pass his ear unfinished — versions, contra- 
 dictions, a score of facts. It had been wolf-poison. 
 It had been ' ' Rough on Rats. ' ' It had been some- 
 thing in a bottle. There was little steering in this 
 278 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 clamorous sea; but Barker reached his patient, 
 where she sat in her new dress, hailing him with 
 wild inebriate gayety. 
 
 "I must get her to her room, friends," said he. 
 
 "He must get her to her room," went the word. 
 "Leave Doc get her to her room." And they 
 tangled in their eagerness around him and his 
 patient. 
 
 "Give us 'Buffalo Girls'!" shouted Mrs. Lusk. 
 . . . "'Buffalo Girls,' you fiddler!" 
 
 "We'll come back," said Barker to her. 
 
 '"Buffalo Girls,' I tell yus. Ho! There's no 
 sense looking at that bottle. Doc. Take yer 
 dance while there's time!" She was holding the 
 chair. 
 
 "Help him!" said the crowd. "Help Doc." 
 
 They took her from her chair, and she fought, a 
 big pink mass of ribbons, fluttering and wrench- 
 ing itself among them. 
 
 "She has six ounces of laudantmi in her!" Bar- 
 ker told them at the top of his voice. "It won't 
 wait all night!" 
 
 "I'm a whirlwind!" said Mrs. Lusk. "That's 
 my game! And you done your share," she cried 
 to the fiddler. "Here's my regards, old man! 
 'Buffalo Girls' once more!" 
 
 She flung out her hand, and froni it fell notes 
 and coins, rolling and ringing aroimd the starch- 
 boxes. Some dragged her on, while some fiercely 
 forbade the musician to touch the money, because 
 it was hers, and she would want it when she came 
 to. Thus they gathered it up for her. But now 
 279 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 she had sunk down, asking in a new voice where 
 was Lin McLean. And when one grinning inti- 
 mate reminded her that Lusk had gone to shoot 
 him, she laughed out richly, and the crowd joined 
 her mirth. But even in the midst of the joke she 
 asked again in the same voice where was Lin Mc- 
 Lean. He came beside her among more jokes. 
 He had kept himself near, and now at sight of 
 him she reached out and held him. "Tell them 
 to leave me go to sleep, Lin," said she. 
 
 Barker saw a chance. "Persuade her to come 
 along," said he to McLean. "Minutes are count- 
 ing now." 
 
 "Oh, I'll come," she said, with a laugh, over- 
 hearing him, and holding still to Lin. 
 
 The rest of the old friends nudged each other. 
 "Back seats for us," they said. "But we've had 
 our turn in front ones." Then, thinking they 
 would be useful in encouraging her to walk, they 
 clustered again, rendering Barker and McLean 
 once more wellnigh helpless. Clumsily the escort 
 made its slow way across the quadrangle, caution- 
 ing itself about stones and holes. Thus, presently, 
 she was brought into the room. The escort set her 
 down, crowding the Uttle place as thick as it would 
 hold ; the rest gathered thick at the door, and all of 
 them had no thought of departing. The notion to 
 stay was plain on their faces. 
 
 Barker stirveyed them. "Give the doctor a 
 show now, boys," said he. "You've done it all 
 so far. Don't crowd my elbows. I'll want you," 
 he whispered to McLean. 
 280 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 At the argument of fair-play, obedience swept 
 over them like a veering of wind. "Don't crowd 
 his elbows," they began to say at once, and told 
 each other to come away.- "We'll sure give the 
 Doc room. You don't want to be shovin' your 
 auger in, Chalkeye. You want to get yourself 
 pretty near absent." The room thinned of them 
 forthwith. "Fix her up good. Doc," they said, 
 over their shoulderg. They shuffled across the 
 threshold and porch with roundabout schemes to 
 tread quietly. When one or other stumbled on 
 the steps and fell, he was jerked to his feet. "You 
 want to tame yourself," was the word. Then, sud- 
 denly, Chalkeye and Toothpick Kid came precipi- 
 tately back. "Her cash," they said. And leav- 
 ing the notes and coins, they hastened to catch 
 their comrades on the way back to the dance. 
 
 "I want you," repeated Barker to McLean. 
 
 "Him!" cried Mrs. Lusk, flashing alert again. 
 "Jessamine wants him about now, I guess. Don't 
 keep him from his girl!" And she laughed her 
 hard, rich laugh, looking from one to the other. 
 "Not the two of yus can't save me," she stated, 
 defiantly. But even in these last words a sort of 
 thickness soimded. 
 
 ' ' Walk her up and down," said Barker. " Keep 
 her moving. I'll look what I can find. Keep her 
 moving brisk." At once he was out of the door; 
 and before his running steps had died away, the 
 fiddle had taken up its time across the quadrangle. 
 
 ' ' ' Buffalo Girls ' ! " exclaimed the woman. ' ' Old 
 times! Old times!" 
 
 281 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 •'Come," said McLean. "Walk." And he took 
 her. 
 
 Her head was full of the music. Forgetting all 
 but that, she went with him easily, and the two 
 made their first turns around the room. When- 
 ever he brought her near the entrance, she leaned 
 away from him towards the open door, where the 
 old fiddle tune was coming in from the dark. 
 But presently she noticed that she was being led, 
 and her face turned sullen. 
 
 "Walk," said McLean. 
 
 "Do you think so?" said she, laughing. But 
 she found that she must go with him. Thus they 
 took a few more turns. 
 
 "You're hurting me," she said next. Then a 
 look of drowsy cunning filled her eyes, and she 
 fixed them upon McLean's dogged face. "He's 
 gone, Lin," she murmured, raising her hand where 
 Barker had disappeared. 
 
 She knew McLean had heard her, and she held 
 back on the quickened pace that he had set. 
 
 "Leave me down. You hurt," she pleaded, 
 hanging on him. 
 
 The cow-puncher put forth more strength. 
 
 "Just the floor," she pleaded again. "Just one 
 minute on the floor. He'll think you could not 
 keep me lifted." 
 
 Still McLean made no answer, but steadily led 
 her round and round, as he had undertaken. 
 
 "He's playing out!" she exclaimed. "You'll 
 be played out soon!" She laughed herself half- 
 awake. The man drew a breath, and she laughed 
 282 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 more to feel his hand and arm strain to surmount 
 her increasing resistance. ' ' Jessamine ! ' ' she whis- 
 pered to him. "Jessamine! Doc '11 never sus- 
 picion you, Lin." 
 
 "Talk sense," said he. 
 
 "It's sense I'm talking. Leave me go to sleep. 
 Ah, ah, I'm going! I'll go; you can't — " 
 
 "Walk, walk!" he repeated. He looked at the 
 door. An ache was nimibing his arms. 
 
 "Oh yes, walk! What can you and all your 
 muscle — Ah, walk me to glory, then, craziness! 
 I'm going; I'll go. I'm quitting this outfit for 
 keeps. Lin, you're awful handsome to-night! 
 I'll bet — I'll bet she has never seen you look so. 
 Let me — ^let me watch yus. Anyway, she knows 
 I came first!" 
 
 He grasped her savagely. "First! You and 
 twenty of yu' don't — God! what do I talk to her 
 for?" 
 
 "Because — ^because — I'm going; I'll go. He 
 slung me off — ^but he had to sling — ^you can't — 
 stop—" 
 
 Her head was rolling, while the lips smiled. 
 Her words came through deeper and deeper veils, 
 fearless, defiant, a challenge inarticulate, a con- 
 tinuous mutter. Again he looked at the door as 
 he struggled to move with her dragging weight. 
 The drops rolled on his forehead and neck, liis 
 shirt was wet, his hands slipped upon her ribbons. 
 Suddenly the drugged body folded and sank with 
 him, pulling him to his knees. While he took 
 breath so, the mutter went on, and through the 
 283 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 door came the jigging fiddle. A fire of despera- 
 tion lighted in his eyes. " ' Buffalo Girls!' " he 
 shouted, hoarsely, in her ear, and got once more 
 on his feet with her as though they were two 
 partners in a quadrille. Still shouting her to 
 wake, he struck a tottering sort of step, and so, 
 with the bending load in his grip, strove feebly 
 to dance the laudanum away. 
 
 Feet stumbled across the porch, and Lusk was 
 in the room. "So I've got you!" he said. He 
 had no weapon, but made a dive under the bed 
 and came up with a carbine. The two men locked, 
 wrenching impotently, and fell together. The 
 carbine's loud shot rang in the room, but did no 
 harm; and McLean lay sick and panting upon 
 Lusk as Barker rushed in. 
 
 "Thank God!" said he, and flung Lusk's pistol 
 down. The man, deranged and encouraged by 
 drink, had come across the doctor, delayed him, 
 threatened him with his pistol, and when he had 
 torn it away, had left him suddenly and vanished. 
 But Barker had feared, and come after him here. 
 He glanced at the woman slumbering motionless 
 beside the two men. The husband's brief cour- 
 age had gone, and he lay beneath McLean, who 
 himself could not rise. Barker pulled them apart. 
 
 "Lin, boy, you're not hurt?" he asked, affec- 
 tionately, and lifted the cow-puncher. 
 
 McLean sat passive, with dazed eyes, letting 
 himself be supported. 
 
 "You're not hurt?" repeated Barker. 
 
 "No," answered the cow-puncher, slowly. "I 
 284 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 guess not." He looked about the room and at the 
 door. "I got interrupted," he said. 
 
 "You'll be all right soon," said Barker. 
 
 "Nobody cares for me!" cried Lusk, suddenly, 
 and took to querulous weeping. 
 
 "Get up," ordered Barker, sternly. 
 
 "Don't accuse me, Governor!" screamed Lusk. 
 "I'm innocent." And he rose. 
 
 Barker looked at the woman and then at the 
 husband. "I'll not say there was much chance 
 for her," he said. "But any she had is gone 
 through you. She'll die." 
 
 "Nobody cares for me!" repeated the man. 
 "He has learned my boy to scorn me." He ran 
 out aimlessly, and away into the night, leaving 
 peace in the room. 
 
 "Stay sitting," said Barker to McLean, and 
 went to Mrs. Lusk. . 
 
 But the cow-puncher, seeing him begin to Uft 
 her towards the bed without help, tried to rise. 
 His strength was not sufficiently come back, and 
 he sank as he had been. "I guess I don't amount 
 to much," said he. "I feel like I was nothing." 
 
 "Well, I'm something," said Barker, coming 
 back to his friend, out of breath. "And I know 
 what she weighs." He stared admiringly through 
 his spectacles at the seated man. 
 
 The cow-puncher's eyes slowly travelled over 
 his body, and then sought Barker's face. "Doc," 
 said he, "ain't I young to have my nerve quit me 
 this way?" 
 
 His Excellency broke into his broad smile. 
 28s 
 
LIN McLean 
 
 "I know I've racketed some, but ain't it ruthel 
 early?" pursued McLean, wistfully. 
 
 "You six-foot infant!" said Barker. "Look at 
 your hand." 
 
 Lin stared at it— the fingers quivering and 
 bloody, and the skin grooved raw between them. 
 That was the buckle of her belt, which in the 
 struggle had worked round and been held by him 
 unknowingly. Both his wrists and his shirt were 
 ribbed with the pink of her sashes. He looked 
 over at the bed where lay the woman heavily 
 breathing. It was a something, a sound, not Uke 
 the breath of life; and Barker saw the cow- 
 puncher shudder. 
 
 "She is strong," he said. "Her system will 
 fight to the end. Two hours yet, maybe. Queer 
 world ! " he moralized. ' ' People half -killing them- 
 selves to keep one in it who wanted to go — ^and 
 one that nobody wanted to stay!" 
 
 McLean did not hear. He was musing, his 
 eyes fixed absently in front of him. "I would 
 not want," he said, with hesitating utterance — 
 "I'd not wish for even my enemy to have a thing 
 like what I've had to do to-night." 
 
 Barker touched him on the arm. "If there 
 had been another man I could trust — " 
 
 "Trust!" broke in the cow-puncher. "Why, 
 Doc, it is the best turn yu' ever done me. I 
 know I an:^ a man now — ^if my nerve ain't gone." 
 
 "I've known you were a man since I knew 
 you!" said the hearty Governor. And he helped 
 the still unsteady six-foot to a chair. "As for 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 your nerve, I'll bring you some whiskey now. 
 And after" — ^he glanced at the bed— "and to- 
 morrow you'll go try if Miss Jessamine won't put 
 the nerve — " 
 
 "Yes, Doc, I'll go there, I know. But don't 
 yu' — don't let's while she's — ■ I'm going to be 
 glad about this, Doc, after awhile, but — " 
 
 At the sight of a new-comer in the door, he 
 stopped in what his soul was stammering to 
 say. "What do you want. Judge?" he inquired, 
 coldly. 
 
 "I understand," began Slaghammer to Barker 
 — "I am informed — " 
 
 "Speak quieter, Judge," said the cow-puncher. 
 
 "I tmderstand," repeated Slaghammer, more 
 of&cial than ever, "that there was a case for the 
 coroner." 
 
 "You'll be notified," put in McLean again. 
 "Meanwhile you'll talk quiet in this room." 
 
 Slaghammer turned, and saw the breathing 
 mass on the bed. 
 
 "You are a little early. Judge," said Barker, 
 "but—"' 
 
 "But your ten dollars are safe," said McLean. 
 
 The coroner shot one of his shrewd glances at 
 the cow-puncher, and sat down with an amiable 
 countenance. His fee was, indeed, ten dollars; 
 and he was desirous of a second term. 
 
 "Under the apprehension that it had already 
 
 occurred — the misapprehension — I took steps 
 
 to impanel a jury," said he, addressing both 
 
 Barker and McLean. "They are — ah — waiting 
 
 287 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 outside. Responsible men, Governor, and have 
 sat before. Drybone has few responsible men 
 to-night, but I procured these at a little game 
 where they were — ah — losing. Yott may go 
 back, gentlemen," said he, going to the door. 
 "I will summon you in proper time." He looked 
 in the room again. "Is the husband not intend- 
 ing—" 
 
 "That's enough, Judge," said McLean. "There's 
 too many here without adding him." 
 
 "Judge," spoke a voice at the door, "ain't she 
 ready yet?" 
 
 "She is still passing away," observed Slagham- 
 mer, piously. 
 
 "Because I was thinking," said the man — "I 
 was just — You see, us jury is dry and dead 
 broke. Doggonedest cards I've held this year, 
 and — ^Judge, would there be anything out of the 
 way in me touching my fee in advance, if it's a 
 sure thing.?" 
 
 "I see none, my friend," said Slaghammer, 
 benevolently, "since it must be." He shook his 
 head and nodded it by turns. Then, with full- 
 blown importance, he sat again, and wrote a 
 paper, his coroner's certificate. Next door, in 
 Albany Coimty, these vouchers brought their 
 face value of five dollars to the holder; but on 
 Drybone's neutral soil the saloons would always 
 pay four for them, and it was rare that any jury- 
 man could withstana the temptation of four im- 
 mediate dollars. This one gratefully received 
 his paper, and, cherishing it like a bird in the 
 288 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 hand, he with his colleagues bore it where they 
 might wait for duty and slake their thirst. 
 
 In the silent room sat Lin McLean, his body 
 coming to life more readily than his shaken 
 spirit. Barker, seeing that the cow-puncher 
 meant to watch until the end, brought the whis- 
 key to him. Slaghammer drew documents from 
 his pocket to fill the time, but was soon in slum- 
 ber over them. In all precincts of the quad- 
 rangle. Drybone was keeping it up late. The 
 fiddle, the occasional shouts, and the crack of the 
 billiard-balls travelled clear and far through the 
 vast darkness outside. Presently steps unsteadily 
 drew near, and round the comer of the door a 
 voice, plaintive and diffident, said: "Judge, ain't 
 she most pretty near ready?" 
 
 "Wake up. Judge!" said Barker. "Your jury 
 has gone dry again." 
 
 The man appeared round the door — a hand- 
 some, dishevelled fellow — ^with hat in hand, bal- 
 ancing himself with respectful anxiety. Thus 
 was a second voucher made out, and the messen- 
 ger strayed back happy to his friends. Barker 
 and McLean sat wakeful, and Slaghammer fell 
 at once to napping. From time to time he was 
 roused by new messengers, each arriving more 
 unsteady than the last, until every juryman had 
 got his fee and no more messengers came. The 
 coroner slept undisturbed in his chair. McLean 
 and Barker sat. On the bed the mass, with its 
 pink ribbons, breathed and breathed, while moths 
 flew round the lamp, tapping and falling with 
 19 289 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 light sounds. So did the heart of the darkness 
 wear itself away, and through the stone-cold air 
 the dawn began to filter and expand. 
 
 Barker rose, bent over the bed, and then stood. 
 Seeing him, McLean stood also. 
 
 "Judge," said Barker, quietly, "you may call 
 them now." And with careful steps the judge 
 got himself out of the room to summon his jury. 
 
 For a short while the cow-puncher stood look- 
 ing down upon the woman. She lay lumped in 
 her gaudiness, the ribbons darkly stained by the 
 laudanum; but into the stolid, bold features death 
 had called up the faint-colored ghost of youth, 
 and McLean remembered all his Bear Creek 
 days. "Hind sight is a turruble clear way o' 
 seein' things," said he. "I think I'll take a 
 walk." 
 
 "Go," said Barker. "The jury only need me, 
 and I'll join you." 
 
 But the jury needed no witness. Their long 
 waiting and the advance pay had been too much 
 for these responsible men. Like brothers they 
 had shared each others' vouchers tmtil responsi- 
 bility had melted from their brains and the whis- 
 key was finished. Then, no longer entertained, 
 and growing weary of Drybone, they had re- 
 membered nothing but their distant beds. Each 
 had mounted his pony, holding trustingly to the 
 saddle, and thus, unguided, the experienced ponies 
 had taken them right. Across the wide sage- 
 brush and up and down the river they were now 
 asleep or riding, dispersed irrevocably. But tae 
 290 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 coroner was here. He duly received Barker's 
 testimony, brought his verdict in, and signed it, 
 and even while he was issuing to himself his own 
 proper voucher for ten dollars came Chalkeye 
 and Toothpick Kid on their ponies, galloping, 
 eager in their hopes and good wishes for Mrs. 
 Lusk. Life ran strong in them both. The night 
 had gone well with them. Here was the new 
 day going to be fine. It must be well with every- 
 body. 
 
 "You don't say!" they exclaimed, taken aback. 
 "Too bad." 
 
 They sat still in their saddles, and upon their 
 reckless, Idndly faces thought passed for a mo- 
 ment. "Her gone!" they murmured. "Hard 
 to get used to the idea. What's anybody doing 
 about the coffin?" 
 
 "Mr. Lusk," answered Slaghammer, "doubt- 
 ^ss— " 
 
 "Lusk! He'll not know anjrthing this fore- 
 noon. He's out there in the grass. She didn't 
 think nothing of him. Tell Bill— not Dollar Bill, 
 Jerky Bill, yu' know; he's over the bridge — ^to 
 fix up a hearse, and we'll be back." The two 
 drove their spurs in with vigorous heels, and 
 instantly were gone rushing up the road to the 
 graveyard. 
 
 The fiddle had lately ceased, and no dancers 
 stayed any longer in the hall. Eastward the 
 rose and gold began to flow down upon the plain 
 over the tops of the distant hills. Of the revel- 
 lers, many had never gone to bed, and many now 
 291 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 were already risen from their excesses to revive 
 in the cool glory of the morning. Some were 
 drinking to stay their hunger until breakfast; 
 some splashed and sported in the river, calling 
 and joking; and across the river some were 
 holding horse-races upon the level beyond the 
 hog-ranch. Drybone air rang with them. Their 
 lusty, wandering shouts broke out . in gusts of 
 hilarity. Their pistols, aimed at cans or prairie- 
 dogs or anything, cracked as they galloped at 
 large. Their speeding, clear-cut forms would 
 shine upon the bluffs, and, descending, merge in 
 the dust their horses had raised. Yet all this 
 was nothing in the vastness of the growing day. 
 Beyond their voices the rim of the sun moved 
 above the violet hills, and Drybone, amid the 
 quiet, long, new fields of radiance, stood august 
 and strange. 
 
 Down along the tall, bare slant from the grave- 
 yard the two horsemen were riding back. They 
 could be seen across the river, and the horse- 
 racers grew curious. As more and more watched, 
 the crowd began to speak. It was a calf the 
 two were bringing. It was too small for a calf. 
 It was dead. It was a coyote they had roped. 
 See it ''wing! See it fall on the road! 
 
 "It's a coffin, boys!" said one, shrewd at guess- 
 ing. 
 
 At that the event of last night drifted across 
 
 their memories, and they wheeled and sptirred 
 
 their ponies. Their crowding hoofs on the bridge 
 
 brought the swimmers from the waters below, 
 
 292 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 and, dressing, they climbed quickly to the plain 
 and followed the gathering. By the door already 
 were Jerky Bill and Limber Jim and the Doughie, 
 and always more, dashing up with their ponies, 
 halting with a sharp scatter of gravel to hear and 
 comment. Barker was gone, but the important 
 coroner told his news. And it amazed each 
 comer, and set him speaking and remembering 
 past things with the others. 
 
 "Dead!" each one began. 
 
 "Her, does he say?" 
 
 "Why, pshaw!" 
 
 "Why, Frenchy said Doc had her cured!" 
 
 "Jack Saunders claimed she had rode to Box 
 Elder with Lin McLean." 
 
 "Dead? Why, pshaw!" 
 
 "Seems Doc couldn't swim her out." 
 
 "Couldn't swim her out?" 
 
 "That's it. Doc couldn't swim her out." 
 
 "Well — ^there's one less of us." 
 
 "Sure! She was one of the boys." 
 
 "She grub-staked me when I went broke in 
 •84." 
 
 "She gave me fifty dollars onced at Lander, 
 to buy a saddle." 
 
 "I run agin her when she was a biscuit-shooter," 
 
 "Sidney, Nebraska. I run agin her there, 
 too." 
 
 "I knowed her at Laramie." 
 
 "Where's Lin? He knowed her all the way 
 from Bear Creek to Cheyenne." 
 
 They laughed loudly a,t this. 
 29.? 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "That's a lonesome coffin," said the Doughie. 
 "That the best you could do?" 
 
 "You'd say so!'' said Toothpick Kid, 
 
 "Choices are getting scarce up there," said 
 Chalkeye. "We looked the lot over." 
 
 They were arriving from their search among 
 the old dug-up graves on the hill. Now they de- 
 scended from their ponies, with box roped and 
 rattUng between them. "Where's your hearse, 
 Jerky?" asked Chalkeye. 
 
 "Have her round in a minute," said the cow- 
 boy, and galloped away with three or four others 
 to help. 
 
 "Turruble lonesome coffin, all the same," re- 
 peated the Doughie. And they surveyed the box 
 that had once held some soldier. 
 
 "She did Uke fixin's," said Limber Jim. 
 
 "Fixin's!" said Toothpick Kid. "That's easy." 
 
 While some six of them, with Chalkeye, bore 
 the light, half -rotted coffin into the room, many 
 followed Toothpick Kid to the post-trader's store. 
 Breaking in here, they found men sleeping on the 
 counters. These had been able to find no other 
 beds in Drybone, and lay as they had stretched 
 themselves on entering. They sprawled in heavy 
 sltraiber, some with not even their hats taken off, 
 and some with their boots against the rough hair 
 of the next one. They were quickly pushed to- 
 gether, few waking, and so there was space for 
 spreading cloth and chintz. Stuffs were unrolled 
 and flung aside till many folds and colors draped 
 the motionless sleepers, and at length a choice was 
 294 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 made. Unmeasured yards of this drab chintz 
 were ripped oflf, money treble its worth was 
 thumped upon the counter, and they returned, 
 bearing it like a streamer to the coffin. While 
 the noise of their hammers filled the room, the 
 hearse came tottering to the door, pulled and 
 pushed by twenty men. It was an ambulance left 
 behind by the soldiers, and of the old-fashioned 
 shape, concave of body, its top blown away in 
 winds of long ago; and as they revolved, its 
 wheels dished in and out like hoops about to fall. 
 While some ma^ a harness from ropes, and 
 throwing the saddles off two ponies backed them 
 to the vehicle, the body was put in the cofhn, now 
 covered by the chintz. But the laudanum upon 
 the front of her dress revolted those who remem- 
 bered their holidays with her, and, turning the 
 woman upon her face, they looked their last upon 
 her flashing, colored ribbons, and nailed the lid 
 down. So they carried her out, but the concave, 
 body of the hearse was too short for the cofRn, 
 the end reached out, and it might have fallen. 
 But Limber Jim, taking the reins, sat upon the 
 other end, waiting and smoking. For all Dry- 
 bone was making ready to follow in some way. 
 They had sought the husband, the chief mourner. 
 He, however, still lay in the grass of the quad- 
 rangle, and despising him as she had done, they 
 left him to wake when he shotdd choose. Those 
 men who could sit in their saddles rode escort, 
 the old friends nearest, and four held the heads of 
 the frightened cow-ponies who were to draw the 
 295 
 
 ( 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 hearse. They had never known harness before, 
 and they plunged with the men who held them. 
 Behind the hearse the women followed in a large 
 ranch-wagon, this moment arrived in town. Two 
 mares drew this, and their foals gambolled around 
 them. The great flat-topped dray for hauling 
 poles came last, with its four government mules. 
 The cow-boys had caught sight of it and captured 
 it. Ruahinj to the post-trader's, they carried 
 the sleeping men from the counter and laid them 
 on the dray. Then, searching Drybone outside 
 and in for any more incapable of following, they 
 brought them, and the dray was piled. 
 
 Limber Jim called for another drink, and, with 
 his cigar between his teeth, cracked his long 
 bull-whacker whip. The ponies, terrified, sprang 
 away, scattering the men that held them, and the 
 swaying hearse leaped past the husband, over the 
 stones and the many playing-cards in the grass. 
 Masterfully steered, it came safe to an open level, 
 while the throng cheered the tmmoved driver on 
 his coffin, his cigar between his teeth. 
 
 "Stay with it, Jim!" they shouted. "You're a 
 king!" 
 
 A steep ditch lay across the flat where he was 
 veering, abrupt and nearly hidden; but his eye 
 caught the danger in time, and swinging from 
 it leftward so that two wheels of the leaning 
 coach were in the air, he faced the open again, 
 safe, as the rescue swooped down upon him. The 
 horsemen came at the ditch, a body of daring, a 
 sultry blast of youth. Wheeling at the brink, 
 296 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 they turned, whirling their long ropes. The skil- 
 ftd nooses flew, and the ponies, caught by the 
 neck and foot, were dragged back to the quad- 
 rangle and held in line. So the pageant started; 
 the wild ponies quivering but subdued by the 
 tightened ropes, and the coffin steady in the am- 
 bulance beneath the driver. The escort, in their 
 fringed leather and broad hats, moved slowly be- 
 ade and behind it, many of them swaying, their 
 faces full of health, and the sun, and the strong 
 drink. The women followed, whispering a little; 
 and behind them the slow dray jolted, with its 
 heaps of men waking from the depths of their 
 whiskey and asking what this was. So they went 
 up the hill. When the riders reached the tilted 
 gate of the graveyard, they sprang off and scat- 
 tered among the hillocks, stumbUng and eager. 
 They nodded to Barker and McLean, quietly 
 waiting there, and began choosing among the 
 open, weather-drifted graves from which the sol- 
 diers had been taken. Their figures went up and 
 down the tmeven ridges, calling and comparing. 
 
 "Here," said the Doughie, "here's a good 
 hole." 
 
 "Here's a deep one," said another. 
 
 "We've struck a well here," said some more. 
 "Put her inhere." 
 
 The sand-hills became clamorous with voices 
 until they arrived at a choice, when some one 
 with a spade quickly squared the rain-washed 
 opening. With lariats looping the coffin round, 
 they brought it and were about to lower it, when 
 297 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 Chalkeye, too near the edge, fell in, and one end 
 of the box rested upon him. He oould not rise 
 by himself, and they pulled the ropes helplessly 
 above. 
 
 McLean spoke to Barker. "I'd like to stop 
 this," said he, "but a man might as well — " 
 
 "Migkt as well stop a cloud-burst," said Bar- 
 ker. 
 
 "Yes, Doc. But it feels — it feels like I was 
 looking at ten dozen Lin McLeans." And see- 
 ing thran still helpless with Chalkeye, he joined 
 them and lifted the cow-boy out. 
 
 "I think," said Slaghammer, stepping forward, 
 "this should proceed no further without some — 
 perhaps some friend would recite 'Now I lay 
 me'?" 
 
 "They don't use that on funerals," said the 
 Doughie. 
 
 "Will some gentleman give the Lcnrd's Prayer ?" 
 inquired the coroner. 
 
 Foreheads were knotted; trial mutterings ran 
 among them; but some one remembered a prayer- 
 book in one of the rooms in Drybone, and the 
 notion was hailed. Four mounted, and raced to 
 bring it. They went down the hill in a flowing 
 knot, shirts ballooning and elbows flapping, and 
 so returned. But the book was beyond them. 
 "Take it, you; you take it," each one said. False 
 beginnings were made, big thumbs pushed the 
 pages back and forth, tmtil impatience conquer- 
 ed them. They left the book and lowered the 
 coffin, helped again by McLean. The weight 
 298 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 sank slowly, decently, steadily, down between the 
 banks. The sound that it struck the bottom 
 with was a slight sound, the grating of the load 
 upon the solid sand; and a little sand strewed 
 from the edge and fell on the box at the same 
 moment. The rattle came up from below, com- 
 pact and brief, a single jar, quietly smiting 
 through the crowd, smiti^ it to silence. One 
 removed his hat, and then another, and then all. 
 They stood eying each his neighbor, and shifting 
 their eyes, looked away at the great valley. Then 
 they filled m. the grave, brought a head-board 
 from a grave near by, and wrote the name and 
 date upon it by scratching with a stone. 
 
 "She was sure one of us," said Chalkeye. 
 "Let's give her the Lament." 
 
 And they followed his lead: 
 
 " Once in the saddle I used to go dashing, 
 Once in the saddle I used to go gay; 
 First took to drinking, and then to card-playing: 
 Got shot in the body, and now here I lay. 
 
 " Beat the drum slowly, play the fife lowly, 
 
 Sound the Dead March as you bear me along. 
 Take me to Boot-hill, and throw the sod over me — 
 I'm but a poor cow-boy, I know I done wrong." 
 
 When the song was ended, they left the gravfe- 
 yard quietly and went down the hill. The 
 morning was growing warm. Their work waited 
 them across many sunny miles of range and 
 plain. Soon their voices and themselves had 
 emptied away into the splendid vastness and si- 
 299 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 lence, and they were gone — ready with all their 
 might to live or to die, to be animals or heroes, 
 as the hours might bring them opporttmity. In 
 Drybone's deserted quadrangle the sun shone 
 down upon Lusk still sleeping, and the wind 
 shook the aces and kings in the grass. 
 
XX 
 
 "neighbor" again 
 
 Over at Separ, Jessamine Buckner had no 
 more stockings of Billy's to mend, and much 
 time for thinking and a change of mind. The 
 day after that strange visit, when she had been 
 told that she had hurt a good man's heart with- 
 out reason, she took up her work; and while her 
 hands despatched it her thoughts already accused 
 her. Could she have seen that visitor now, she 
 wotdd have thanked her. She looked at the 
 photograph on her table. "Why did he go away 
 so quickly?" she sighed. But when young Billy 
 returned to his questions she was buoyant again, 
 and more than a match for him. He reached the 
 forbidden twelfth time of asking why Lin McLean 
 did not come back and marry her. Nor did she 
 punish him as she had threatened. She looked at 
 him confidentially, and he drew near, full of hope. 
 
 "Billy, I'll tell you just why it is," said she. 
 "Lin thinks I'm not a real girl." 
 
 "A — ah," drawled Billy, backing from her with 
 suspicion. 
 
 "Indeed that's what it is, Billy. If he knew I 
 was a real girl — " 
 
 301 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 "A — ^ah," went the boy, entirely angry. "Any* 
 body can tell you're a girl." And he marched 
 out, mystified, and nursing a sense of wrong. 
 Nor did his dignity allow him to reopen the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 To-day, two miles out in the sage-brush by 
 himself, he was shooting jack-rabbits, but began 
 suddenly to run in towards Separ. A horseman 
 had passed him, and he had loudly called; but 
 the rider rode on, intent upon the little distant 
 station. Man and horse were soon far ahead 
 of the boy, and the man came into town gal- 
 loping. 
 
 No need to fire the little pistol by her window, 
 as he had once thought to do! She was outside 
 before he could leap to the ground. And as he 
 held her, she could only laugh, and cry, and say 
 "Forgive me! Oh, why have you been so long?" 
 She took him back to the room where his picture 
 was, and made him sit, and sat herself close. 
 "What is it?" she asked him. For through the 
 love she read something else in his serious face. 
 So then he told her how nothing was wrong; 
 and as she listened to all that he had to tell, she, 
 too, grew serious, and held vary close to him. 
 "Dear, dear neighbor!" she said. 
 
 As they sat so, happy with deepening happi- 
 ness, but not gay yet, yoimg Billy burst open 
 the door. "There!" he cried. "I knowed Lin 
 knowed you were a girl!" 
 
 Thus did Billy also have his wish. For had he 
 not told Jessamine that he liked her, and urged 
 302 
 
LIN McLEAN 
 
 her to come and live with him and Lin? That 
 cabin on Box Elder became a home in truth, 
 with a woman inside taking the, only care of Mr. 
 McLean that he had known since his childhood; 
 though singtilarly enough he has an impression 
 that it is he who takes care of Jessamine! 
 
IN THE AFTER-DAYS 
 
 The black pines stand high up the hills, 
 The white snow sifts their columns deep, 
 
 While through the canon's riven cleft 
 
 From there, beyond, the rose clouds sweep, 
 
 Serene above their paling shapes 
 One star hath wakened in the sky, 
 
 And here in the gray world below 
 Over the sage the wind blows by; 
 
 Rides through the cotton- woods' ghost-raokSi 
 
 And hums aloft a sturdy tune 
 Among the river's tawny bluffs. 
 
 Untenanted as is the moon. 
 
 Far 'neath the huge invading dusk 
 
 Comes Silence awful through the plain; 
 
 But yonder horseman's heart is gay. 
 And he goes singing might and main. 
 
 THE) BNiS> 
 
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