Wedding garments, and other civilized apparel proper for a genuine frontiersman when he comes to town, were also in the hotel, ready for the Virginian to wear. It is only the somewhat green and unseasoned cow-puncher who struts before the public in spurs and deadly weapons. For many a year the Virginian had put away these childish things. He made a sober toilet for the streets. Nothing but his face and bearing remained out of the common when he was in a town. But Scipio had told him not to change his clothes; therefore he went out with his pistol at his hip. Soon he had joined his three friends.
“I’m obliged to yu’,” he said. “He passed me this mawnin’.”
“We don’t know his intentions,” said Wiggin.
“Except that he’s hangin’ around,” said McLean.
“And fillin’ up,” said Scipio, “which reminds me--”
They strolled into the saloon of a friend, where, unfortunately, sat some foolish people. But one cannot always tell how much of a fool a man is, at sight.
It was a temperate health-drinking that they made. “Here’s how,” they muttered softly to the Virginian; and “How,” he returned softly, looking away from them. But they had a brief meeting of eyes, standing and lounging near each other, shyly; and Scipio shook hands with the bridegroom. “Some day,” he stated, tapping himself; for in his vagrant heart he began to envy the man who could bring himself to marry. And he nodded again, repeating, “Here’s how.”
They stood at the bar, full of sentiment, empty of words, memory and affection busy in their hearts. All of them had seen rough days together, and they felt guilty with emotion.
“It’s hot weather,” said Wiggin.
“Hotter on Box Elder,” said McLean. “My kid has started teething.”
Words ran dry again. They shifted their positions, looked in their glasses, read the labels on the bottles. They dropped a word now and then to the proprietor about his trade, and his ornaments.
“Good head,” commented McLean.
“Big old ram,” assented the proprietor. “Shot him myself on Gray Bull last fall.”
“Sheep was thick in the Tetons last fall,” said the Virginian.
On the bar stood a machine into which the idle customer might drop his nickel. The coin then bounced among an arrangement of pegs, descending at length into one or another of various holes. You might win as much as ten times your stake, but this was not the most usual result; and with nickels the three friends and the bridegroom now mildly sported for a while, buying them with silver when their store ran out.
“Was it sheep you went after in the Tetons?” inquired the proprietor, knowing it was horse thieves.
“Yes,” said the Virginian. “I’ll have ten more nickels.”
“Did you get all the sheep you wanted?” the proprietor continued.
“Poor luck,” said the Virginian.
“Think there’s a friend of yours in town this afternoon,” said the proprietor.
“Did he mention he was my friend?”