straight. I seen you at Chicago all right."

"Maybe you did," said the Virginian. "Sometimes I'm mighty
careless what I look at."

"Well, py damn!" now exclaimed the Dutch drummer, hilariously. "I
am ploom disappointed. I vas hoping to sell him somedings
myself."

"Not the same here," stated the American. "He's too healthy for
me. I gave him up on sight."

Now it was the American drummer whose bed the Virginian had in
his eye. This was a sensible man, and had talked less than his
brothers in the trade. I had little doubt who would end by
sleeping in his bed; but how the thing would be done interested
me more deeply than ever.

The Virginian looked amiably at his intended victim, and made one
or two remarks regarding patent medicines. There must be a good
deal of money in them, he supposed, with a live man to manage
them. The victim was flattered. No other person at the table had
been favored with so much of the tall cow-puncher's notice. He
responded, and they had a pleasant talk. I did not divine that
the Virginian's genius was even then at work, and that all this
was part of his satanic strategy. But Steve must have divined it.
For while a few of us still sat finishing our supper, that
facetious horseman returned from doctoring his horse's hoofs, put
his head into the dining room, took in the way in which the
Virginian was engaging his victim in conversation, remarked