"No, he stood out in the office rumblin' to the old man, but that didn't
bother me no more than the north wind when you're in bed under four
blankets. Alta she played me some tunes on her git-tar and sung me some
songs. I tell you, Duke, I just laid back and shut my eyes. I felt as
easy as if I owned the railroad from here to Omaha."

"How long are you going to keep it up?"

"Which up, Duke?"

"Courtin' Alta. You'll have to show off your tricks pretty regular, I
think, if you want to hold your own in that ranch."

Taterleg rode along considering it.

"Ye-es, I guess a feller'll have to act if he wants to hold Alta. She's
young, and the young like change. 'Specially the girls. A man to keep
Alta on the line'll have to marry her and set her to raisin' children.
You know, Duke, there's something new to a girl in every man she sees.
She likes to have him around till she leans ag'in' him and rubs the
paint off, then she's out shootin' eyes at another one."

"Are there others besides Jedlick?"

"That bartender boards there at the _ho_-tel. He's got four gold teeth,
and he picks 'em with a quill. Sounds like somebody slappin' the crick
with a fishin'-pole. But them teeth give him a standin' in society; they
look like money in the bank. Nothing to his business, though, Duke; no
sentiment or romance or anything."

"Not much. Who else is there sitting in this Alta game?"

"Young feller with a neck like a bottle, off of a ranch somewhere back
in the hills."

Taterleg mentioned him as with consideration. Lambert concluded that he
was a rival to be reckoned with, but gave Taterleg his own way of coming
to that.

"That feller's got a watch with a music box in the back of it, Duke.
Ever see one of 'em?"

"No, I never did."

"Well, he's got one of 'em, all right. He starts that thing up about the
time he hits the steps, and comes in playin' 'Sweet Vilelets' like he
just couldn't help bustin' out in music the minute he comes in sight of
Alta. That feller gives me a pain!"

The Duke smiled. To every man his own affair is romance; every other
man's a folly or a diverting comedy, indeed.

"She's a little too keen on that feller to suit me, Duke. She sets out
there with him, and winds that fool watch and plays them two tunes over
till you begin to sag, leanin' her elbow on his shoulder like she had
him paid for and didn't care whether he broke or not."

"What is the other tune?"

"It's that one that goes:

_A