That this should have gone on under his nose while he sat searching the papers was to Scipio utterly unbearable. His mind was in a turmoil, feeling about helplessly but furiously for vengeance; and the Virginian’s sane question--What could he have done to stop it if he had discovered it?--comforted him not at all. They were outside the store, sitting under a tree, waiting for the returning Agent to appear. But he did not come, and the suspense added to Scipio’s wretchedness. “He put me in charge,” he kept repeating. “The driver ain’t responsible when a stage is held up,” reasoned the Virginian. Scipio hardly heard him. “He put me in charge,” he said. Then he worked round to Horacles again. “He ain’t got strength. He ain’t got beauty. He ain’t got riches. He ain’t got brains. He’s just got sense enough for parlor conjuring tricks--not good ones, either. And yet he has me beat.” “He’s got an uncle in the Senate,” said the Virginian. The disconsolate Scipio took a pull at his cigar,--he had taken one between every sentence. “Damn his false teeth.” The Virginian looked grave. “Don’t be hasty. Maybe the day will come when you and me’ll need ’em to chew our tenderloin.” “We’ll be old. Horacles is twenty-five.” “Twenty-five is certainly young to commence eatin’ by machinery,” admitted the Virginian. “And he’s proud of ’em,” whined Scipio. “Proud! Opens his bone box and sticks ’em out at y’u on the end of his tongue.” “I hate an immodest man,” said the Virginian. “Why, he hadn’t any better sense than to do it over to the officers’ club right before the ladies and everybody the other night. The K. O.’s wife said it gave her the creeps--and she don’t look sensitive.” “Well,” said the Virginian, “if I weighed three hundred pounds I’d be turrable sensitive.” “She had to leave,” pursued Scipio. “Had to take her little girl away from the show. Them teeth comin’ out of Horacles’es mouth the way they did sent the child into hysterics. Y’u could hear her screechin’ half way down the line.” The Virginian looked at his watch. “I wonder if that Agent is coming here at all to-day?” Scipio’s worried face darkened again. “What can I do? What _can_ I?” he demanded. And he rose and limped up and down where the ponies were tied in front of the store. The fickle Indians would soon be tying these ponies in front of the rival store. “I received this business in good shape,” continued Scipio, “and I’ll hand it back in bad.” Horacles looked out of the door. He wore his hat tilted to make him look like the dare-devil that he was not; dare-devils seldom have soft pink hands, red eyelids, and a fluffy mustache. He smiled at Scipio, and Scipio smiled at him, sweetly and dangerously. “Would you mind keeping store while I’m off?” inquired Horacles. “Sure not!” cried Scipio, with heartiness. “Goin’ to have your grand opening this afternoon?”