“Take your hand off your gun, Trampas. If I had wanted to kill yu’ you’d be lying nine days back on the road now. Here’s your rope. Did yu’ expect I’d not know it? It’s the only one in camp the stiffness ain’t all drug out of yet. Or maybe yu’ expected me to notice and--not take notice?” “I don’t spend my time in expectations about you. If--”

The Virginian wheeled his horse across the road. “Yu’re talkin’ too soon after reachin’ safety, Trampas. I didn’t tell yu’ to hand me that rope this mawnin’, because I was busy. I ain’t foreman now; and I want that rope.” Trampas produced a smile as skilful as his voice. “Well, I guess your having mine proves this one is yours.” He rode up and received the coil which the Virginian held out, unloosing the disputed one on his saddle. If he had meant to devise a slippery, evasive insult, no small trick in cow-land could be more offensive than this taking another man’s rope. And it is the small tricks which lead to the big bullets. Trampas put a smooth coating of plausibility over the whole transaction. “After the rope corral we had to make this morning”--his tone was mock explanatory--“the ropes was all strewed round camp, and in the hustle I--”

“Pardon me,” said a sonorous voice behind us, “do you happen to have seen Judge Henry?” It was the reverend gentleman in his meadow, come to the fence. As we turned round to him he spoke on, with much rotund authority in his eye. “From his answer to my letter, Judge Henry undoubtedly expects me here. I have arrived from Fetterman according to my plan which I announced to him, to find that he has been absent all day--absent the whole day.” The Virginian sat sidewise to talk, one long, straight leg supporting him on one stirrup, the other bent at ease, the boot half lifted from its dangling stirrup. He made himself the perfection of courtesy. “The Judge is frequently absent all night, seh.” “Scarcely to- night, I think. I thought you might know something about him.” “I have been absent myself, seh.” “Ah! On a vacation, perhaps?” The divine had a ruddy facet. His strong glance was straight and frank and fearless; but his smile too much reminded me of days bygone, when we used to return to school from the Christmas holidays, and the masters would shake our hands and welcome us with: “Robert, John, Edward, glad to see you all looking so well! Rested, and ready for hard work, I’m sure!” That smile does not really please even good, tame little boys; and the Virginian was nearing thirty.

“It has not been vacation this trip, seh,” said he, settling straight in his saddle. “There’s the Judge driving in now, in time for all questions yu’ have to ask him.” His horse took a step, but was stopped short. There lay the Virginian’s rope on the ground. I had been aware of Trampas’s quite proper departure during the talk; and as he was leaving, I seemed also to be aware of his placing the coil across the cantle of its owner’s saddle. Had he intended it to fall and have to be picked up? It was another evasive little business, and quite successful, if designed to nag the owner of the rope. A few hundred yards ahead of us Trampas was now shouting loud cow-boy shouts. Were they to announce his return to those at home, or did they mean derision? The Virginian leaned, keeping his seat, and, swinging down his arm, caught up the rope, and hung it on his saddle somewhat carefully. But the hue of rage spread over his face.

From his fence the divine now spoke, in approbation, but with another strong, cheerless smile. “You pick up that rope as if you were well trained to it.” “It’s part of our business, seh, and we try to mind it like the rest.” But this, stated in a gentle drawl, did not pierce the missionary’s armor; his superiority was very thick.

We now rode on, and I was impressed by the reverend gentleman’s robust, dictatorial back as he proceeded by a short cut through the meadow to the ranch. You could take him for nothing but a vigorous, sincere, dominating man, full of the highest purpose. But whatever his creed, I already doubted if he were the right one to sow it and make it grow in these new, wild fields. He seemed more the sort of gardener to keep old walks and vines pruned in their antique rigidity. I admired him for coming all this way with his clean, short, gray whiskers and his black, well-brushed suit. And he made me think of a powerful locomotive stuck puffing on a grade.