After this definite particularization of the point at issue, there was a pause. The coffee had been disposed of and two or three of the boys wandered off to look after their horses. Pete, who was bent upon the inauguration of a reform, indicated his desire to make a few post-prandial remarks, whereupon those who remained gathered round the dying embers of the sage brush fire. The dirty, half empty tin plates still remained upon the ground, and while the party were seated, Pete rose to his feet as if with the determination to deliver his words with vigor and effect. Then with compressed lips and a look of earnestness upon his face, he pointed again to the old kettle in which some beans still simmered, and proceeded with his diatribe. [Illustration: SAGE BRUSH GROWTH] "Boys, I want to say a word about beans, yes, about those beans right there in that kettle. Beans are getting damn scarce, and the first thing we know, our beans will all be gone and we ain't had any, and can't get any. Now, I like beans and am hungry, but I don't like 'em raw and," with a vigorous expletive, "I won't stand it." Now Pete's life had been spent largely in a country hotel. When I mildly replied that our cooking in general compared very favorably with that of some articles which I had seen served on the table of that hotel, Pete's indignation was still more aroused. I had been sitting as quietly as possible upon a box, but it suddenly became evident that my comfort and possibly my safety depended upon a change of base, for Pete was a powerful fellow and several years my senior. Moreover, I regarded my head as of far greater importance than my reputation as a sage brush cook, nor did I relish the thought of being buried in Wyoming simply to afford momentary gratification to a traveling companion, who had found no pleasure in half-cooked beans. And now came Dan Trippe in the _rôle_ of mediator. "Pete, you're densely ignorant," said Dan, as he also rose to his feet and faced Pete. "Don't you know that water boils at 212 degrees at sea level? In this high altitude it hardly gets hot when it boils. Any intelligent man knows that it can be made no hotter in the open air than boiling point. It requires hot water to boil beans. The head cook of the Astor house couldn't boil beans satisfactorily up here. I couldn't do it myself."