ar this interesting
conversation. In gatherings of more than six there will generally be at
least one fool; and this company must have numbered twenty men.

"This country knows well enough," said one fool, who hungered to be
important, "that you don't brand no calves that ain't your own."

The saturnine Virginian looked at him. "Thank yu'," said he, gravely,
"for your indorsement of my character." The fool felt flattered. The
Virginian turned to his friends. His hand slowly pushed his hat back,
and he rubbed his black head in thought.

"Glad to see yu've got your gun with you," continued the happy fool.
"You know what Trampas claims about that affair of yours in the Tetons?
He claims that if everything was known about the killing of Shorty--"

"Take one on the house," suggested the proprietor to him, amiably. "Your
news will be fresher." And he pushed him the bottle. The fool felt less
important.

"This talk had went the rounds before it got to us," said Scipio, "or
we'd have headed it off. He has got friends in town."

Perplexity knotted the Virginian's brows. This community knew that a man
had implied he was a thief and a murderer; it also knew that he knew
it. But the case was one of peculiar circumstances, assuredly. Could he
avoid meeting the man? Soon the stage would be starting south for the
railroad. He had already to-day proposed to his sweetheart that they
should take it. Could he for her sake leave unanswered a talking enemy
upon the field? His own ears had not heard the enemy.

Into these reflections the fool stepped once more. "Of course this
country don't believe Trampas," said he. "This country--"

But he contributed no further thoughts. From somewhere in the rear of
the building, where it opened upon the tin cans and the hinder purlieus
of the town, came a movement, and Trampas was among them, courageous
with whiskey.

All the fools now made themselves conspicuous. One lay on the floor,
knocked there by the Virginian, whose arm he had attempted to hold.
Others struggled with Trampas, and his bullet smashed the ceiling
before they could drag the pistol from him. "There now! there now!" they
interposed; "you don't want to talk like that," for he was pouring out a
tide of hate and vilification. Yet the Virginian stood quiet by the bar,
and many an eye of astonishment was turned upon him. "I'd not stand half
that language," some muttered to each other. Still the Virginian waited
quietly, while the