“No, give it all to him,” the latter rejoined. “It’s his. Let him play it. I’ve done as much myself when I was younger. And monte’s a cinch compared to buying and packing and shipping cattle to the East.” They turned and rode toward town, young in the youth of the open range, where to-morrow did not yet loom. ----- [1] The foundation of this anecdote is to be found in Saunder’s _Trail Drivers of Texas_. CHAPTER XLIII LOU GORE “COME right on in, you poor child.” When Taisie Lockhart first had climbed down from the lofty cart seat and approached the front door of the Drovers’ Cottage, she walked straight into the arms of sturdy Lou Gore, matron of the first cowman’s hotel of the North and Florence Nightingale of the frontier. That good soul took the girl to her bosom, patting her shoulder like a mother. “My!” she exclaimed. “To think at first I might have took you for a boy!” When they entered the door she felt her young charge wince, draw back. A tall young man stood in the office near the door. It seemed to Lou Gore that these two must somewhere have met, although she scarce heard the voice of either now as they saluted, acknowledged. “Why, you knew that gentleman?” she asked later. “Yes,” said Taisie; “he was once a neighbor of ours down in Texas. He was with us part way on the trail.” “Oh-ho! Well, he don’t seem so very neighborly now, up here. He don’t talk to nobody except Wild Bill. Them two were shooting at a mark over on the street. My husband says neither of them didn’t miss. My dear, don’t never have anything to do with a man who is a shooter—take my advice. Men is bad, and shooters is worst. “But now you come on in with me, child; I’ve got to take care of you. Law me, is this all the clothes you got—and this the Fourth of July?” “Yes”—Taisie turned on her the gaze of her troubled eyes—“it’s all I’ve got. I am poor—unless we sell the cows. In Texas no one has anything but cows.” “Well, you ain’t poor if them’s your cows. You’ll sell ’em all right. Everybody’s howling for cattle right now. “But come back into my kitchen, my dear, and I’ll fix you up. Who is that hollering out in front?” “Oh, that’s Milly, my black woman,” said Taisie. “She’s out in the cart. Wait, I’ll go get her.” And presently she returned with Milly, in one hand carrying her long-barreled weapon. “Miss Taisie, Ah cross my ha’ht,” said she. “Ah’m sho’ Ah done seen dat no-’count nigger man o’ mine right down the street. If he ever do come a leetle bit closter I gwine to blow the lights outen him. Ah sho’ is!” “Law sakes!” remarked Lou Gore. “How you talk! Set that gun down and come on and help me get this lady fixed up. If I only had a change of clothes for her,” she added, finger at lip, dubiously regarding Taisie’s male apparel. “We don’t fit each other.” “Change of clothes, ma’am!” exclaimed Milly. “In her trunk out in the kyart she got all kind of clothes!”