t in Dakota quietly, watching us go away into
Montana, and offering no objections. Just before he became too small to
make out, we saw him rise and remove himself back toward the saloons.

XV. THE GAME AND THE NATION--ACT SECOND

"That is the only step I have had to take this whole trip," said the
Virginian. He holstered his pistol with a jerk. "I have been fearing
he would force it on me." And he looked at empty, receding Dakota with
disgust. "So nyeh back home!" he muttered.

"Known your friend long?" whispered Scipio to me.

"Fairly," I answered.

Scipio's bleached eyes brightened with admiration as he considered the
Southerner's back. "Well," he stated judicially, "start awful early when
yu' go to fool with him, or he'll make you feel unpunctual."

"I expaict I've had them almost all of three thousand miles," said the
Virginian, tilting his head toward the noise in the caboose. "And I've
strove to deliver them back as I received them. The whole lot. And I
would have. But he has spoiled my hopes." The deputy foreman looked
again at Dakota. "It's a disappointment," he added. "You may know what I
mean."

I had known a little, but not to the very deep, of the man's pride and
purpose in this trust. Scipio gave him sympathy. "There must be quite a
balance of 'em left with yu' yet," said Scipio, cheeringly.

"I had the boys plumb contented," pursued the deputy foreman, hurt
into open talk of himself. "Away along as far as Saynt Paul I had them
reconciled to my authority. Then this news about gold had to strike us."

"And they're a-dreamin' nuggets and Parisian bowleyvards," suggested
Scipio.

The Virginian smiled gratefully at him.

"Fortune is shinin' bright and blindin' to their delicate young eyes,"
he said, regaining his usual self.

We all listened a moment to the rejoicings within.

"Energetic, ain't they?" said the Southerner. "But none of 'em was
whelped savage enough to sing himself bloodthirsty. And though they're
strainin' mighty earnest not to be tame, they're goin' back to Sunk
Creek with me accordin' to the Judge's awders. Never a calf of them will
desert to Rawhide, for all their dangerousness; nor I ain't goin' to
have any fuss over it. Only one is left now that don't sing. Maybe I
will have to make some arrangements about him. The man I have parted
with," he said, with another glance at Dakota, "was our cook, and I will
ask yu' to replace him, Colonel."

Scipio gaped wide. "Colonel