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“After you had told her why it was?” said I.

“Before and after. I didn’t tell her first, because 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 understands 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 understand also the reality of Tommy’s ranch and allowance, 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? Shucks! That’s put up by the papers of this section. 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 until 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 yu’,” said he, touching my arm confidentially 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 earnest–him that no body 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 sitting with her admirer, and Tommy from Riverside 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 masculine 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 yu’, 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 ladies 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.”