The Virginian | Page 9

woman. Her eyes rested upon him for a moment,
then upon me with disfavor; then they returned to his black hair.
"The allowance is one a day," said she, very quietly. "But when folks
are particular--" She completed her sentence by removing the old towel
and giving a clean one to us.
"Thank you, ma'am," said the cow-puncher.
She looked once more at his black hair, and without any word returned
to her guests at supper.
A pail stood in the trough, almost empty; and this he filled for me from
a well. There was some soap sliding at large in the trough, but I got my

own. And then in a tin basin I removed as many of the stains of travel
as I was able. It was not much of a toilet that I made in this first
wash-trough of my experience, but it had to suffice, and I took my seat
at supper.
Canned stuff it was,--corned beef. And one of my table companions
said the truth about it. "When I slung my teeth over that," he remarked,
"I thought I was chewing a hammock." We had strange coffee, and
condensed milk; and I have never seen more flies. I made no attempt to
talk, for no one in this country seemed favorable to me. By reason of
something,--my clothes, my hat, my pronunciation, whatever it might
be, I possessed the secret of estranging people at sight. Yet I was doing
better than I knew; my strict silence and attention to the corned beef
made me in the eyes of the cow-boys at table compare well with the
over-talkative commercial travellers.
The Virginian's entrance produced a slight silence. He had done
wonders with the wash-trough, and he had somehow brushed his
clothes. With all the roughness of his dress, he was now the neatest of
us. He nodded to some of the other cow-boys, and began his meal in
quiet.
But silence is not the native element of the drummer. An average fish
can go a longer time out of water than this breed can live without
talking. One of them now looked across the table at the grave,
flannel-shirted Virginian; he inspected, and came to the imprudent
conclusion that he understood his man.
"Good evening," he said briskly.
"Good evening," said the Virginian.
"Just come to town?" pursued the drummer.
"Just come to town," the Virginian suavely assented.
"Cattle business jumping along?" inquired the drummer.

"Oh, fair." And the Virginian took some more corned beef.
"Gets a move on your appetite, anyway," suggested the drummer.
The Virginian drank some coffee. Presently the pretty woman refilled
his cup without his asking her.
"Guess I've met you before," the drummer stated next.
The Virginian glanced at him for a brief moment.
"Haven't I, now? Ain't I seen you somewhere? Look at me. You been in
Chicago, ain't you? You look at me well. Remember Ikey's, don't you?"
"I don't reckon I do."
"See, now! I knowed you'd been in Chicago. Four or five years ago. Or
maybe it's two years. Time's nothing to me. But I never forget a face.
Yes, sir. Him and me's met at Ikey's, all right." This important point the
drummer stated to all of us. We were called to witness how well he had
proved old acquaintanceship. "Ain't the world small, though!" he
exclaimed complacently. "Meet a man once and you're sure to run on to
him again. That's straight. That's no bar-room josh." And the drummer's
eye included us all in his confidence. I wondered if he had attained that
high perfection when a man believes his own lies.
The Virginian did not seem interested. He placidly attended to his food,
while our landlady moved between dining room and kitchen, and the
drummer expanded.
"Yes, sir! Ikey's over by the stock-yards, patronized by all cattlemen
that know what's what. That's where. Maybe it's three years. Time
never was nothing to me. But faces! Why, I can't quit 'em. Adults or
children, male and female; onced I seen 'em I couldn't lose one off my
memory, not if you were to pay me bounty, five dollars a face. White
men, that is. Can't do nothing with niggers or Chinese. But you're white,
all right." The drummer suddenly returned to the Virginian with this
high compliment. The cow-puncher had taken out a pipe, and was

slowly rubbing it. The compliment seemed to escape his attention, and
the drummer went on.
"I can tell a man when he's white, put him at Ikey's or out loose here in
the sage-brush." And he rolled a cigar across to the Virginian's plate.
"Selling them?" inquired the Virginian.
"Solid goods, my friend. Havana wrappers, the biggest tobacco
proposition for five cents got out yet. Take it, try it, light it, watch