“Solid goods, my friend. Havana wrappers, the biggest tobacco proposition for five cents got out yet. Take it, try it, light it, watch it burn. Here.” And he held out a bunch of matches. The Virginian tossed a five-cent piece over to him. “Oh, no, my friend! Not from you! Not after Ikey’s. I don’t forget you. See? I knowed your face right away. See? That’s straight. I seen you at Chicago all right.” “Maybe you did,” said the Virginian. “Sometimes I’m mighty careless what I look at.” “Well, py damn!” now exclaimed the Dutch drummer, hilariously. “I am ploom disappointed. I vas hoping to sell him somedings myself.” “Not the same here,” stated the American. “He’s too healthy for me. I gave him up on sight.” Now it was the American drummer whose bed the Virginian had in his eye. This was a sensible man, and had talked less than his brothers in the trade. I had little doubt who would end by sleeping in his bed; but how the thing would be done interested me more deeply than ever. The Virginian looked amiably at his intended victim, and made one or two remarks regarding patent medicines. There must be a good deal of money in them, he supposed, with a live man to manage them. The victim was flattered. No other person at the table had been favored with so much of the tall cow-puncher’s notice. He responded, and they had a pleasant talk. I did not divine that the Virginian’s genius was even then at work, and that all this was part of his satanic strategy. But Steve must have divined it. For while a few of us still sat finishing our supper, that facetious horseman returned from doctoring his horse’s hoofs, put his head into the dining room, took in the way in which the Virginian was engaging his victim in conversation, remarked aloud, “I’ve lost!” and closed the door again. “What’s he lost?” inquired the American drummer. “Oh, you mustn’t mind him,” drawled the Virginian. “He’s one of those box-head jokers goes around openin’ and shuttin’ doors that-a-way. We call him harmless. Well,” he broke off, “I reckon I’ll go smoke. Not allowed in hyeh?” This last he addressed to the landlady, with especial gentleness. She shook her head, and her eyes followed him as he went out. Left to myself I meditated for some time upon my lodging for the night, and smoked a cigar for consolation as I walked about. It was not a hotel that we had supped in. Hotel at Medicine Bow there appeared to be none. But connected with the eating-house was that place where, according to Steve, the beds were all taken, and there I went to see for myself. Steve had spoken the truth. It was a single apartment containing four or five beds, and nothing else whatever. And when I looked at these beds, my sorrow that I could sleep in none of them grew less. To be alone in one offered no temptation, and as for this courtesy of the country, this doubling up--! “Well, they have got ahead of us.” This was the Virginian standing at my elbow. I assented.