ay. You keep either of 'em up long enough, and yu' get
to require it. If Tommy didn't lie some every day, he'd get sick."

I was sleepy, but I murmured assent to this, and trusted he would not go
on.

"Ever notice," said he, "how the victims of the whiskey and lyin' habit
get to increasing the dose?"

"Yes," said I.

"Him roping six bears!" pursued Mr. McLean, after further contemplation.
"Or any bear. Ever notice how the worser a man's lyin' the silenter
other men'll get? Why's that, now?"

I believe that I made a faint sound to imply that I was following him.

"Men don't get took in. But ladies now, they--"

Here he paused again, and during the next interval of contemplation I
sank beyond his reach.

In the morning I left Riverside for Buffalo, and there or thereabouts I
remained for a number of weeks. Miss Peck did not enter my thoughts, nor
did I meet any one to remind me of her, until one day I stopped at
the drug-store. It was not for drugs, but gossip, that I went. In the
daytime there was no place like the apothecary's for meeting men and
hearing the news. There I heard how things were going everywhere,
including Bear Creek.

All the cow-punchers liked the new girl up there, said gossip. She was
a great addition to society. Reported to be more companionable than
the school-marm, Miss Molly Wood, who had been raised too far east, and
showed it. Vermont, or some such dude place. Several had been in town
buying presents for Miss Katie Peck. Tommy Postmaster had paid high for
a necklace of elk-tushes the government scout at McKinney sold him.
Too bad Miss Peck did not enjoy good health. Shorty had been in only
yesterday to get her medicine again. Third bottle. Had I heard the big
joke on Lin McLean? He had promised her the skin of a big bear he knew
the location of, and Tommy got the bear.

Two days after this I joined one of the roundup camps at sunset. They
had been working from Salt Creek to Bear Creek, and the Taylor ranch was
in visiting distance from them again, after an interval of gathering
and branding far across the country. The Virginian, the gentle-voiced
Southerner, whom I had last seen lingering with Miss Wood, was in
camp. Silent three-quarters of the time, as was his way, he sat gravely
watching Lin McLean. That person seemed silent also, as was not his way
quite so much.

"Lin," said the Southerner, "I reckon you're failin'."

Mr. McLean raised a sombre eye, but did not trouble to ans