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“No better than Americans,” said I.

But the Virginian shook his head. “Better’n what I’ve saw any Americans have. Of course I am not judging a whole nation by one citizen, and especially her a woman. And of course in them big Austrian towns the folks has shook their virtuous sayin’s loose from their daily doin’s, same as we have. I expect selling yourself brings the quickest returns to man or woman all the world over. But I am speakin’ not of towns, but of the back country, where folks don’t just merely arrive on the cyars, but come into the world the natural way, and grow up slow. Onced a week anyway they see the bunch of old grave-stones that marks their fam’ly. Their blood and name are knowed about in the neighborhood, and it’s not often one of such will sell themselves. But their religion ain’t to them like this woman’s. They can be rip-snortin’ or’tn’ary in ways. Now she is getting naught but hindrance and temptation and meanness from her husband and every livin’ thing around her–yet she keeps right along, nor does she mostly bear any signs in her face. She has cert’nly come from where they are used to believing in God and a hereafter mighty hard, and all day long. She has got one o’ them crucifixes, and Hank can’t make her quit prayin’ to it. But what is she going to do?”

“He will probably leave her,” I said.

“Yes,” said the Virginian–“leave her. Alone; her money all spent; knowin’ maybe twenty words of English; and thousands of miles away from everything she can understand. For our words and ways is all alike strange to her.”

“Then why did he want such a person?” I exclaimed.

There was surprise in the grave glance which the cow-puncher gave me. “Why, any man would,” he answered. “I wanted her myself, till I found she was good.”

I looked at this son of the wilderness, standing thoughtful and splendid by the fire, and unconscious of his own religion that had unexpectedly shone forth in these last words. But I said nothing; for words too intimate, especially words of esteem, put him invariably to silence.

“I had forgot to mention her looks to yu’.” he pursued, simply. “She is fit for a man.” He stopped again.

“Then there was her wages that Hank saw paid to her,” he resumed. “And so marriage was but a little thing to Hank–agaynst such a heap of advantages. As for her idea in takin’ such as him–maybe it was that he was small and she was big; tall and big. Or maybe it was just his white teeth. Them ridiculous reasons will bring a woman to a man, haven’t yu’ noticed? But maybe it was just her sorrowful, helpless state, left stranded as she was, and him keeping himself near her and sober for a week.

“I had been seein’ this hyeh Yellowstone Park, takin’ in its geysers, and this and that, for my enjoyment; and when I found what they claimed about its strange sights to be pretty near so, I landed up at Galena Creek to watch the boys prospectin’. Honey Wiggin, yu’ know, and McLean, and the rest. And so they got me to go down with Hank to Gardner for flour and sugar and truck, which we had to wait for. We lay around the Mammoth Springs and Gardner for three days, playin’ cyards with friends. And I got plumb interested in them tourists. For I had partly forgot about Eastern people. And hyeh they came fresh every day to remind a man of the great size of his country. Most always they would talk to yu’ if yu’ gave ’em the chance; and I did. I have come mighty nigh regrettin’ that I did not keep a tally of the questions them folks asked me. And as they seemed genu-winely anxious to believe anything at all, and the worser the thing the believinger they’d grow, why I–well, there’s times when I have got to lie to keep in good health.