rguson and Rope took places at one end of the long
table and began eating. No niceties of the conventions were observed
here; the men ate each according to his whim and were immune from
criticism. Table etiquette was a thing that would have spoiled their
joy of eating. Theirs was a primitive country; their occupation
primitive; their manner of living no less so. They concerned
themselves very little with the customs of a world of which they heard
very little.

Nor did they bolt their food silently--as has been recorded of them by
men who knew them little. If they did eat rapidly it was because the
ravening hunger of a healthy stomach demanded instant attention. And
they did not overeat. Epicurus would have marveled at the simplicity
of their food. Conversation was mingled with every mouthful.

At one end of the table sat an empty plate, with no man on the bench
before it. This was the place reserved for Leviatt, the range boss.
Next to this place on the right was seated a goodlooking young puncher,
whose age might have been estimated at twenty-three. "Skinny" they
called him because of his exceeding slenderness. At the moment
Ferguson settled into his seat the young man was filling the room with
rapid talk. This talk had been inconsequential and concerned only
those small details about which we bother during our leisure. But now
his talk veered and he was suddenly telling something that gave promise
of consecutiveness and universal interest. Other voices died away as
his arose.

"Leviatt ain't the only one," he was saying. "She ain't made no
exception with any of the outfit. To my knowin' there's been Lon
Dexter, Soapy, Clem Miller, Lazy, Wrinkles--an' myself," he admitted,
reddening, "been notified that we was mavericks an' needed our ears
marked. An' now comes Leviatt a-fannin' right on to get his'n. An' I
reckon he'll get it."

"You ain't tellin' what she said when she give you your'n," said a
voice.

There was a laugh, through which the youth emerged smiling broadly.

"No," he said, "I ain't tellin'. But she told Soapy here that she was
lookin' for local color. Wanted to know if he was it. Since then
Soapy's been using a right smart lot of soap, tryin' to rub some color
into his face."

Color was in Soapy's face now. He sat directly opposite the slender
youth and his cheeks were crimson.

"I reckon if you'd keep to the truth----" he began. But Skinny has
passed on to the next.

"A