I assented. I should have liked to say something natural and kind, but words stuck against my will, and I stood awkward and ill at ease, noticing idly that the silent one wore a gray flannel shirt like mine. Steve looked me over, and saw in my pocket the newspaper which I had brought from the railroad and on which I had pencilled a few expenses. He asked me, Would I mind letting him have it for a while? And I gave it to him eagerly, begging him to keep it as long as he wanted. I was overeager in my embarrassment. “You need not return it at all,” I said; “those notes are nothing. Do keep it.” He gave me a short glance and a smile. “Thank you,” he said; “I’ll not need it beyond to-morrow morning.” And he began to search through it. “Jake’s election is considered sure,” he said to his companion, who made no response. “Well, Fremont County owes it to Jake.” And I left him interested in the local news. Dead men I have seen not a few times, even some lying pale and terrible after violent ends, and the edge of this wears off; but I hope I shall never again have to be in the company with men waiting to be killed. By this time to-morrow the gray flannel shirt would be buttoned round a corpse. Until what moment would Steve chew? Against such fancies as these I managed presently to barricade my mind, but I made a plea to be allowed to pass the night elsewhere, and I suggested the adjacent cabin. By their faces I saw that my words merely helped their distrust of me. The cabin leaked too much, they said; I would sleep drier here. One man gave it to me more directly: “If you figured on camping in this stable, what has changed your mind?” How could I tell them that I shrunk from any contact with what they were doing, although I knew that only so could justice be dealt in this country? Their wholesome frontier nerves knew nothing of such refinements. But the Virginian understood part of it. “I am right sorry for your annoyance,” he said. And now I noticed he was under a constraint very different from the ease of the others.