All spring he had ridden trail, worked at ditches during summer, and now he had just finished with the beef round-up. Yesterday, while he was spending a little comfortable money at the Drybone hog-ranch, a casual traveller from the north gossiped of Bear Creek, and the fences up there, and the farm crops, the Westfalls, and the young schoolmarm from Vermont, for whom the Taylors had built a cabin next door to theirs. The traveller had not seen her, but Mrs. Taylor and all the ladies thought the world of her, and Lin McLean had told him she was “away up in G.” She would have plenty of partners at this Swinton barbecue. Great boon for the country, wasn’t it, steers jumping that way? The Virginian heard, asking no questions; and left town in an hour, with the scarf and trousers tied in his slicker behind his saddle. After looking upon the ford again, even though it was dry and not at all the same place, he journeyed in attentively. When you have been hard at work for months with no time to think, of course you think a great deal during your first empty days. “Step along, you Monte hawss!” he said, rousing after some while. He disciplined Monte, who flattened his ears affectedly and snorted. “Why, you surely ain’ thinkin’ of you’-self as a hero? She wasn’t really a-drowndin’, you pie-biter.” He rested his serious glance upon the alkali. “She’s not likely to have forgot that mix-up, though. I guess I’ll not remind her about grippin’ me, and all that. She wasn’t the kind a man ought to josh about such things. She had a right clear eye.” Thus, tall and loose in the saddle, did he jog along the sixty miles which still lay between him and the dance. X. WHERE FANCY WAS BRED Two camps in the open, and the Virginian’s Monte horse, untired, brought him to the Swintons’ in good time for the barbecue. The horse received good food at length, while his rider was welcomed with good whiskey. GOOD whiskey--for had not steers jumped to seventy-five? Inside the Goose Egg kitchen many small delicacies were preparing, and a steer was roasting whole outside. The bed of flame under it showed steadily brighter against the dusk that was beginning to veil the lowlands. The busy hosts went and came, while men stood and men lay near the fire-glow. Chalkeye was there, and Nebrasky, and Trampas, and Honey Wiggin, with others, enjoying the occasion; but Honey Wiggin was enjoying himself: he had an audience; he was sitting up discoursing to it. “Hello!” he said, perceiving the Virginian. “So you’ve dropped in for your turn! Number--six, ain’t he, boys?” “Depends who’s a-runnin’ the countin’,” said the Virginian, and stretched himself down among the audience. “I’ve saw him number one when nobody else was around,” said Trampas. “How far away was you standin’ when you beheld that?” inquired the lounging Southerner. “Well, boys,” said Wiggin, “I expect it will be Miss Schoolmarm says who’s number one to-night.”