I was surprised. Possession being nine points of the law, it seemed his very chance to intrench himself in the bed. But the cow-puncher had planned a campaign needing no intrenchments. Moreover, going to bed before nine o’clock upon the first evening in many weeks that a town’s resources were open to you, would be a dull proceeding. Our entire company, drummer and all, now walked over to the store, and here my sleeping arrangements were made easily. This store was the cleanest place and the best in Medicine Bow, and would have been a good store anywhere, offering a multitude of things for sale, and kept by a very civil proprietor. He bade me make myself at home, and placed both of his counters at my disposal. Upon the grocery side there stood a cheese too large and strong to sleep near comfortably, and I therefore chose the dry-goods side. Here thick quilts were unrolled for me, to make it soft; and no condition was placed upon me, further than that I should remove my boots, because the quilts were new, and clean, and for sale. So now my rest was assured. Not an anxiety remained in my thoughts. These therefore turned themselves wholly to the other man’s bed, and how he was going to lose it. I think that Steve was more curious even than myself. Time was on the wing. His bet must be decided, and the drinks enjoyed. He stood against the grocery counter, contemplating the Virginian. But it was to me that he spoke. The Virginian, however, listened to every word. “Your first visit to this country?” I told him yes. “How do you like it?” I expected to like it very much. “How does the climate strike you?” I thought the climate was fine. “Makes a man thirsty though.” This was the sub-current which the Virginian plainly looked for. But he, like Steve, addressed himself to me. “Yes,” he put in, “thirsty while a man’s soft yet. You’ll harden.” “I guess you’ll find it a drier country than you were given to expect,” said Steve. “If your habits have been frequent that way,” said the Virginian. “There’s parts of Wyoming,” pursued Steve, “where you’ll go hours and hours before you’ll see a drop of wetness.” “And if yu’ keep a-thinkin’ about it,” said the Virginian, “it’ll seem like days and days.” Steve, at this stroke, gave up, and clapped him on the shoulder with a joyous chuckle. “You old son-of-a!” he cried affectionately. “Drinks are due now,” said the Virginian. “My treat, Steve. But I reckon your suspense will have to linger a while yet.” Thus they dropped into direct talk from that speech of the fourth dimension where they had been using me for their telephone. “Any cyards going to-night?” inquired the Virginian. “Stud and draw,” Steve told him. “Strangers playing.” “I think I’d like to get into a game for a while,” said the Southerner. “Strangers, yu’ say?”