“Yes, this is Benton, is it?” I rejoined; and perhaps bitterly.
“Benton, Wyoming Territory; of three thousand people in two weeks; in another month, who knows how many? And the majority of us live on one another. The country furnishes nothing else. Still, you will find it not much different from what I told you.”
“I have found it high and dry, certainly,” said I.
“Where are you stopping?”
“At the Queen—with a bath for every room. I am now awaiting the turn of my room, at the end of another hour.”
“Oh!” She laughed heartily. “You are fortunate, sir. The Queen may not be considered the best in all ways, but they say the towels for the baths are more than napkin size. Meanwhile, let me advise 87 you. Outfit while you wait, and become of the country. You look too much the pilgrim—there is Eastern dust showing through our Benton dust, and that spells of other ’dust’ in your pockets. Get another hat, a flannel shirt, some coarser trousers, a pair of boots, don a gun and a swagger, say little, make few impromptu friends, win and lose without a smile or frown, if you play (but upon playing I will advise you later), pass as a surveyor, as a railroad clerk, as a Mormon—anything they choose to apply to you; and I shall hope to see you to-night.”
“You shall,” I assured, abashed by her raillery. “And if you will kindly tell me——”
“The meals at the Belle Marie Café are as good as any. You can see the sign from here. So adios, sir, and remember.” With no mention of the Big Tent she flashed a smile at me and mingled with the other pedestrians crossing the street on diagonal course. As I had not been invited to accompany her I stood, gratefully digesting her remarks. When I turned for a final word with my two guides, they had vanished.
This I interpreted as a confession of jealous fear that I had been, in slang phrasing, “put wise.” And sooth to say, I saw them again no more.