The Virginian | Page 8

them away.
Yet serene above their foulness swam a pure and quiet light, such as the
East never sees; they might be bathing in the air of creation's first
morning. Beneath sun and stars their days and nights were immaculate
and wonderful.
Medicine Bow was my first, and I took its dimensions, twenty-nine
buildings in all,--one coal shute, one water tank, the station, one store,

two eating-houses, one billiard hall, two tool-houses, one feed stable,
and twelve others that for one reason and another I shall not name. Yet
this wretched husk of squalor spent thought upon appearances; many
houses in it wore a false front to seem as if they were two stories high.
There they stood, rearing their pitiful masquerade amid a fringe of old
tin cans, while at their very doors began a world of crystal light, a land
without end, a space across which Noah and Adam might come straight
from Genesis. Into that space went wandering a road, over a hill and
down out of sight, and up again smaller in the distance, and down once
more, and up once more, straining the eyes, and so away.
Then I heard a fellow greet my Virginian. He came rollicking out of a
door, and made a pass with his hand at the Virginian's hat. The
Southerner dodged it, and I saw once more the tiger undulation of body,
and knew my escort was he of the rope and the corral.
"How are yu' Steve?" he said to the rollicking man. And in his tone I
heard instantly old friendship speaking. With Steve he would take and
give familiarity.
Steve looked at me, and looked away--and that was all. But it was
enough. In no company had I ever felt so much an outsider. Yet I liked
the company, and wished that it would like me.
"Just come to town?" inquired Steve of the Virginian.
"Been here since noon. Been waiting for the train."
"Going out to-night?"
"I reckon I'll pull out to-morro'."
"Beds are all took," said Steve. This was for my benefit.
"Dear me," said I.
"But I guess one of them drummers will let yu' double up with him."
Steve was enjoying himself, I think. He had his saddle and blankets,

and beds were nothing to him.
"Drummers, are they?" asked the Virginian.
"Two Jews handling cigars, one American with consumption killer, and
a Dutchman with jew'lry."
The Virginian set down my valise, and seemed to meditate. "I did want
a bed to-night," he murmured gently.
"Well," Steve suggested, "the American looks like he washed the
oftenest."
"That's of no consequence to me," observed the Southerner.
"Guess it'll be when yu' see 'em."
"Oh, I'm meaning something different. I wanted a bed to myself."
"Then you'll have to build one."
"Bet yu' I have the Dutchman's."
"Take a man that won't scare. Bet yu' drinks yu' can't have the
American's."
"Go yu'" said the Virginian. "I'll have his bed without any fuss. Drinks
for the crowd."
"I suppose you have me beat," said Steve, grinning at him
affectionately. "You're such a son-of-a-- when you get down to work.
Well, so long! I got to fix my horse's hoofs."
I had expected that the man would be struck down. He had used to the
Virginian a term of heaviest insult, I thought. I had marvelled to hear it
come so unheralded from Steve's friendly lips. And now I marvelled
still more. Evidently he had meant no harm by it, and evidently no
offence had been taken. Used thus, this language was plainly
complimentary. I had stepped into a world new to me indeed, and

novelties were occurring with scarce any time to get breath between
them. As to where I should sleep, I had forgotten that problem
altogether in my curiosity. What was the Virginian going to do now? I
began to know that the quiet of this man was volcanic.
"Will you wash first, sir?"
We were at the door of the eating-house, and he set my valise inside. In
my tenderfoot innocence I was looking indoors for the washing
arrangements.
"It's out hyeh, seh," he informed me gravely, but with strong Southern
accent. Internal mirth seemed often to heighten the local flavor of his
speech. There were other times when it had scarce any special accent or
fault in grammar.
A trough was to my right, slippery with soapy water; and hanging from
a roller above one end of it was a rag of discouraging appearance. The
Virginian caught it, and it performed one whirling revolution on its
roller. Not a dry or clean inch could be found on it. He took off his hat,
and put his head in the door.
"Your towel, ma'am," said he, "has been too popular."
She came out, a pretty