Ira was very silent for some time after this speech. Like many of the adventurers into Texas, he had little ambition beyond living a wild free life. A good time with the boys, a dash out upon an Indian trail, days of hunting, a fandango with some _bonita señorita_, constituted the employments to which he devoted himself. He had his own land grant, a little cabin where he stayed long enough in a year to make good his claim to his property, a couple of horses, his rifle and a dog, and that was about all he cared to possess. The idea of settling down to clear land, to acquire stock and to become a family man had never been seriously considered. But now with Jabez Manypenny appearing as a rival all the pugnaciousness in Ira arose. He would not be beaten. Jabez owned many acres, a fine lot of stock, a good and roomy house. He was reputed a rich man, a widower of two years’ standing, and with no nearer relatives than married sisters somewhere in “the States.” Ira pondered over the situation. To snatch Louisa from both Cyrus and Jabez would be a fine stroke. But there was the war going on, he must join his company, and if he had the luck to come back unscathed what had he to offer a girl like Louisa? As he considered the matter her charms seemed to increase, and his own chances to decrease. He drew so long a sigh that Bud laughed. “Ye heave like ole Ben Hoke’s ole hoss,” he said. “What’s wrong with yer lungs?” Ira gave voice to a remark in keeping with the occasion. Then said, “What’s a fool creetur like me to do? I can’t lay ’round here and play huntin’ dog to ary ole varmint like Jabe; I’m natchelly obleeged to go jine the boys.” “Wel, ain’t ye a purty little feller?” said Bud, sneeringly. “Ain’t ye got a tongue in yer head? What’s the matter with yer speakin’ out? I been a-knowin’ this long time how the land lay. You shorely air gittin’ weakly all of a suddent. Ye ain’t afraid o’ painters, ner Injuns, ner bullets. What’s got ye?” “No, I ain’t skeered o’ none o’ them things, but a female woman’s differnt. Painters springs at ye, Injuns sneaks on ye, bullets comes a whizzin’, but a female woman jest backs away an’ ye don’t know how far she’s goin’ ter git. You feels fer yer weepon an’ it ain’t thar. You kin reach down an’ pull a bunch o’ grass fer a mare, er put yer hand in yer pocket an’ git out a lump o’ sugar fer her, but how ye goin’ ter tole a female woman?” “Ye ain’t never done it, I suppose,” said Bud, sarcastically. “Not this variety,” replied Ira. Bud threw back his head and gave vent to boisterous mirth. “Ye’re ketched fer shore, this time, an’ by a red head, too. I ain’t never seen nothin’ to skeer anybody in Lou Sparks. All ye got ter do is ter buckle up and throw out yer purtiest talk.” “Think so?” “I know so.”