the enthusiast. And all of us save Trampas
fell into fits of imbecile laughter.

"Here comes our grub, anyway," said Scipio, looking off toward the
marshes. And his hilarity sobered away in a moment.

"Well, the train will be in soon," stated Trampas. "I guess we'll get a
decent supper without frogs."

All interest settled now upon the Virginian. He was coming with his man
and his gunny sack, and the gunny sack hung from his shoulder heavily,
as a full sack should. He took no notice of the gathering, but sat down
and partly emptied the sack. "There," said he, very businesslike, to his
assistant, "that's all we'll want. I think you'll find a ready market
for the balance."

"Well, my gracious!" said the enthusiast. "What fool eats a frog?"

"Oh, I'm fool enough for a tadpole!" cried the passenger. And they began
to take out their pocket-books.

"You can cook yours right hyeh, gentlemen," said the Virginian, with
his slow Southern courtesy. "The dining-cyars don't look like they were
fired up."

"How much will you sell a couple for?" inquired the enthusiast.

The Virginian looked at him with friendly surprise. "Why, help yourself!
We're all together yet awhile. Help yourselves," he repeated, to Trampas
and his followers. These hung back a moment, then, with a slinking
motion, set the cheese upon the earth and came forward nearer the fire
to receive some supper.

"It won't scarcely be Delmonico style," said the Virginian to the
passengers, "nor yet Saynt Augustine." He meant the great Augustin, the
traditional chef of Philadelphia, whose history I had sketched for him
at Colonel Cyrus Jones's eating palace.

Scipio now officiated. His frying-pan was busy, and prosperous odors
rose from it.

"Run for a bucket of fresh water, Shorty," the Virginian continued,
beginning his meal. "Colonel, yu' cook pretty near good. If yu' had sold
'em as advertised, yu'd have cert'nly made a name."

Several were now eating with satisfaction, but not Scipio. It was all
that he could do to cook straight. The whole man seemed to glisten.
His eye was shut to a slit once more, while the innocent passengers
thankfully swallowed.

"Now, you see, you have made some money," began the Virginian to the
native who had helped him get the frogs.

"Bet your life!" exclaimed the man. "Divvy, won't you?" And he held out
half his gains.

"Keep 'em," returned the Southerner. "I reckon we're square. But I
expaict they'll not equal Delmonico'