“I reckon,” replied the Virginian, “that the bull-fighter wore better.”

“Fans and taverns and gypsies and sportin’,” said Lin.  “My! but I’d like to see them countries with oranges and bull-fights!  Only I expect Spain, maybe, ain’t keepin’ it up so gay as when ‘Carmen’ happened.”

The table-talk soon left romance and turned upon steers and alfalfa, a grass but lately introduced in the country.  No further mention was made of the hostile Crows, and from this I drew the false conclusion that Tommy had not come up to their hopes in the matter of reciting his campaigns.  But when the hour came for those visitors who were not spending the night to take their leave, Taylor drew Tommy aside with me, and I noticed the Virginian speaking with Molly Wood, whose face showed diversion.

“Don’t seem to make anything of it,” whispered Taylor to Tommy, “but the ladies have got their minds on this Indian truck.”

“Why, I’ll just explain—­” began Tommy.

“Don’t,” whispered Lin, joining us.  “Yu’ know how women are.  Once they take a notion, why, the more yu’ deny the surer they get.  Now, yu’ see, him and me” (he jerked his elbow towards the Virginian) “must go back to camp, for we’re on second relief.”

“And the ladies would sleep better knowing there was another man in the house,” said Taylor.

“In that case,” said Tommy, “I—­”

“Yu’ see,” said Lin, “they’ve been told about Ten Sleep being burned two nights ago.”

“It ain’t!” cried Tommy.

“Why, of course it ain’t,” drawled the ingenious Lin.  “But that’s what I say.  You and I know Ten Sleep’s all right, but we can’t report from our own knowledge seeing it all right, and there it is.  They get these nervous notions.”

“Just don’t appear to make anything special of not going back to Riverside,” repeated Taylor, “but—­”

“But just kind of stay here,” said Lin.

“I will!” exclaimed Tommy.  “Of course, I’m glad to oblige.”

I suppose I was slow-sighted.  All this pains seemed to me larger than its results.  They had imposed upon Tommy, yes.  But what of that?  He was to be kept from going back to Riverside until morning.  Unless they proposed to visit his empty cabin and play tricks—­but that would be too childish, even for Lin McLean, to say nothing of the Virginian, his occasional partner in mischief.

“In spite of the Crows,” I satirically told the ladies, “I shall sleep outside, as I intended.  I’ve no use for houses at this season.”

The cinches of the horses were tightened, Lin and the Virginian laid a hand on their saddle-horns, swung up, and soon all sound of the galloping horses had ceased.  Molly Wood declined to be nervous and crossed to her little neighbor cabin; we all parted, and (as always in that blessed country) deep sleep quickly came to me.