“Oh, yes; my man and I. This does seem to be a lively place, if I could judge by some certain sounds during the afternoon.”
“That was nothing, only the boys having some fun with a tenderfoot. You never saw such an outfit. A Jew with a horse—well, every boy on the range has given it a feed since it came, and it is eating yet!”
“Where is the tenderfoot, as you call him, now?”
“Oh, asleep in his little bed. Maybe he won’t have a headache in the morning! Oh, no; I guess not! And it was his first drink, too. Will you have one, sir, on me?”
“No, thank you. I never drink, but I’ll take a box of Henry Clays, if you have them.”
“I just have! You see, I keep them for the fellows from the mines. When they come down flush, nothing else is good enough for them. Then, by the time they have been here an hour they couldn’t tell what they’re smoking, so I have to give them cheaper ones. But this box has never been opened.”
“I am glad to get it. I expect we’ll go up in the mountains as soon as I can locate a place and get a shack. Then I’ll send to Cheyenne for our traps and settle down for a while. Any doctors about here?”
“No, not within thirty miles. But there is a woman here—no, an angel—and it’s Angel we call her, and when there is sickness or trouble she is right there. If you like, I’ll interjuce her to your ladies the next time she comes in. She was here to-day to dinner. She is as fine a woman as ever walked the earth, the Angel is.”
“Thank you, but just at present I want my daughter to be kept strictly secluded. The sight of strangers always makes her worse. I am sure that we shall be glad to know this lady—the Angel, as you call her—later. My wife will, I know.”
Then Pierson took out a handful of cigars, paid for the box, and asked Snakes to keep the box handy, as he was going to have supper and a smoke. He signaled to Dopey and they went to the dining-room, where Dopey astonished himself, as well as the waiters, by the quantity of food he consumed. He could not have eaten as much in the city in a week.