The Virginian was on the point of saying, “Then get out!” But instead, he spoke kindness to the end. “The weather is freezing yet,” he said, “and it will be for a good long while. Take your time, and tell me if yu’ change your mind.” After that Shorty returned to the bunk house, and the Virginian knew that the boy had learned his lesson of discontent from Trampas with a thoroughness past all unteaching. This petty triumph of evil seemed scarce of the size to count as any victory over the Virginian. But all men grasp at straws. Since that first moment, when in the Medicine Bow saloon the Virginian had shut the mouth of Trampas by a word, the man had been trying to get even without risk; and at each successive clash of his weapon with the Virginian’s, he had merely met another public humiliation. Therefore, now at the Sunk Creek Ranch in these cold white days, a certain lurking insolence in his gait showed plainly his opinion that by disaffecting Shorty he had made some sort of reprisal. Yes, he had poisoned the lost dog. In the springtime, when the neighboring ranches needed additional hands, it happened as the Virginian had foreseen,--Trampas departed to a “better job,” as he took pains to say, and with him the docile Shorty rode away upon his horse Pedro. Love now was not any longer snowbound. The mountain trails were open enough for the sure feet of love’s steed--that horse called Monte. But duty blocked the path of love. Instead of turning his face to Bear Creek, the foreman had other journeys to make, full of heavy work, and watchfulness, and councils with the Judge. The cattle thieves were growing bold, and winter had scattered the cattle widely over the range. Therefore the Virginian, instead of going to see her, wrote a letter to his sweetheart. It was his first. XXIV. A LETTER WITH A MORAL The letter which the Virginian wrote to Molly Wood was, as has been stated, the first that he had ever addressed to her. I think, perhaps, he may have been a little shy as to his skill in the epistolary art, a little anxious lest any sustained production from his pen might contain blunders that would too staringly remind her of his scant learning. He could turn off a business communication about steers or stock cars, or any other of the subjects involved in his profession, with a brevity and a clearness that led the Judge to confide three-quarters of such correspondence to his foreman. “Write to the 76 outfit,” the Judge would say, “and tell them that my wagon cannot start for the round-up until,” etc.; or “Write to Cheyenne and say that if they will hold a meeting next Monday week, I will,” etc. And then the Virginian would write such communications with ease.