But success attended the caucus; each mother emerged, satisfied that she had received her own, and each sire, now that his family was itself again, began to look at his neighbor sideways. After a man has been angry enough to kill another man, after the fire of righteous slaughter has raged in his heart as it had certainly raged for several hours in the hearts of these fathers, the flame will usually burn itself out. This will be so in a generous nature, unless the cause of the anger is still unchanged. But the children had been identified; none had taken hurt. All had been humanely given their nourishment. The thing was over. The day was beautiful. A tempting feast remained from the barbecue. These Bear Creek fathers could not keep their ire at red heat. Most of them, being as yet more their wives' rovers than their children's parents, began to see the mirthful side of the adventure; and they ceased to feel very severely toward Lin McLean.
Not so the women. They cried for vengeance; but they cried in vain, and were met with smiles.
Mrs. Westfall argued long that punishment should be dealt the offender. "Anyway," she persisted, "it was real defiant of him putting that up on the tree. I might forgive him but for that."
"Yes," spoke the Virginian in their midst, "that wasn't sort o' right. Especially as I am the man you're huntin'."
They sat dumb at his assurance.
"Come and kill me," he continued, round upon the party. "I'll not resist."
But they could not resist the way in which he had looked round upon them. He had chosen the right moment for his confession, as a captain of a horse awaits the proper time for a charge. Some rebukes he did receive; the worst came from the mothers. And all that he could say for himself was, "I am getting off too easy."
"But what was your point?" said Westfall.
"Blamed if I know any more. I expect it must have been the whiskey."
"I would mind it less," said Mrs. Westfall, "if you looked a bit sorry or ashamed."
The Virginian shook his head at her penitently. "I'm tryin' to," he said.
And thus he sat disarming his accusers until they began to lunch upon the copious remnants of the barbecue. He did not join them at this meal. In telling you that Mrs. Dow was the only lady absent upon this historic morning, I was guilty of an inadvertence. There was one other.
The Virginian rode away sedately through the autumn sunshine; and as he went he asked his Monte horse a question. "Do yu' reckon she'll have forgotten you too, you pie-biter?" said he. Instead of the new trousers, the cow-puncher's leathern chaps were on his legs. But he had the new scarf knotted at his neck. Most men would gladly have equalled him in appearance. "You Monte," said he, "will she be at home?"
It was Sunday, and no school day, and he found her in her cabin that stood next the Taylors' house. Her eyes were very bright.
"I'd thought I'd just call," said he.
"Why, that's such a pity! Mr. and Mrs. Taylor are away."
"Yes; they've been right busy. That's why I thought I'd call.
Will yu' come for a ride, ma'am?"
"Dear me! I--"
"You can ride my hawss. He's gentle."
"What! And you walk?"
"No, ma'am. Nor the two of us ride him THIS time, either." At this she turned entirely pink, and he, noticing, went on quietly:
"I'll catch up one of Taylor's hawsses. Taylor knows me."
"No. I don't really think I could do that. But thank you. Thank you very much. I must go now and see how Mrs. Taylor's fire is."
"I'll look after that, ma'am. I'd like for yu' to go ridin' mighty well. Yu' have no babies this mawnin' to be anxious after."
At this shaft, Grandmother Stark flashed awake deep within the spirit of her descendant, and she made a haughty declaration of war. "I don't know what you mean, sir," she said.
Now was his danger; for it was easy to fall into mere crude impertinence and ask her why, then, did she speak thus abruptly?
There were various easy things of this kind for him to say. And any rudeness would have lost him the battle. But the Virginian was not the man to lose such a battle in such a way. His shaft had hit. She thought he referred to those babies about whom last night she had shown such superfluous solicitude. Her conscience was guilty. This was all that he had wished to make sure of before he began operations.
"Why, I mean," said he, easily, sitting down near the door, "that it's Sunday. School don't hinder yu' from enjoyin' a ride to-day.
You'll teach the kids all the better for it to-morro', ma'am.
Maybe it's your duty." And he smiled at her.
"My duty! It's quite novel to have strangers--"
"Am I a stranger?" he cut in, firing his first broadside. "I was introduced, ma'am," he continued, noting how she had flushed again. "And I would not be oversteppin' for the world. I'll go away if yu' want." And hereupon he quietly rose, and stood, hat in hand.
Molly was flustered. She did not at all want him to go. No one of her admirers had ever been like this creature. The fringed leathern chaparreros, the cartridge belt, the flannel shirt, the knotted scarf at the neck, these things were now an old story to her. Since her arrival she had seen young men and old in plenty dressed thus. But worn by this man now standing by her door, they seemed to radiate romance. She did not want him to go--and she wished to win her battle. And now in her agitation she became suddenly severe, as she had done at Hoosic Junction. He should have a punishment to remember!
"You call yourself a man, I suppose," she said.
But he did not tremble in the least. Her fierceness filled him with delight, and the tender desire of ownership flooded through him.
"A grown-up, responsible man," she repeated.
"Yes, ma'am. I think so." He now sat dozen again.
"And you let them think that--that Mr. McLean--You dare not look me in the face and say that Mr. McLean did that last night!"
"I reckon I dassent."
"There! I knew it! I said so from the first!"
"And me a stranger to you!" he murmured.
It was his second broadside. It left her badly crippled. She was silent.
"Who did yu' mention it to, ma'am?"
She hoped she had him. "Why, are you afraid?" And she laughed lightly.
