distance they swore eternal friendship, in their excitable foreign way. And they went home over the Union Pacific, sharing the same stateroom. Their revenge killed frawgs. The disease--” “How killed frogs?” demanded Trampas. “Just killed ’em. Delmonico and Saynt Augustine wiped frawgs off the slate of fashion. Not a banker in Fifth Avenue’ll touch one now if another banker’s around watchin’ him. And if ever yu’ see a man that hides his feet an’ won’t take off his socks in company, he has worked in them Tulare swamps an’ got the disease. Catch him wadin’, and yu’ll find he’s web-footed. Frawgs are dead, Trampas, and so are you.” “Rise up, liars, and salute your king!” yelled Scipio. “Oh, I’m in love with you!” And he threw his arms round the Virginian. “Let me shake hands with you,” said the traveller, who had failed to interest his wife in these things. “I wish I was going to have more of your company.” “Thank ye’, seh,” said the Virginian. Other passengers greeted him, and the Indian chiefs came, saying, “How!” because they followed their feelings without understanding. “Don’t show so humbled, boys,” said the deputy foreman to his most sheepish crew. “These gentlemen from the East have been enjoying yu’ some, I know. But think what a weary wait they have had hyeh. And you insisted on playing the game with me this way, yu’ see. What outlet did yu’ give me? Didn’t I have it to do? And I’ll tell yu’ one thing for your consolation: when I got to the middle of the frawgs I ’most believed it myself.” And he laughed out the first laugh I had heard him give. The enthusiast came up and shook hands. That led off, and the rest followed, with Trampas at the end. The tide was too strong for him. He was not a graceful loser; but he got through this, and the Virginian eased him down by treating him precisely like the others--apparently. Possibly the supreme--the most American--moment of all was when word came that the bridge was open, and the Pullman trains, with noise and triumph, began to move westward at last. Every one waved farewell to every one, craning from steps and windows, so that the cars twinkled with hilarity; and in twenty minutes the whole procession in front had moved, and our turn came. “Last chance for Rawhide,” said the Virginian. “Last chance for Sunk Creek,” said a reconstructed mutineer, and all sprang aboard. There was no question who had won his spurs now. Our caboose trundled on to Billings along the shingly cotton-wooded Yellowstone; and as the plains and bluffs and the distant snow began to grow well known, even to me, we turned to our baggage that was to come off, since camp would begin in the morning. Thus I saw the Virginian carefully rewrapping Kenilworth, that he might bring it to its owner unharmed; and I said, “Don’t you think you could have played poker with Queen Elizabeth?” “No; I expaict she’d have beat me,” he replied. “She was a lady.”