“Just the same way. You keep either of 'em up long enough, and yu' get to require it. If Tommy didn't lie some every day, he'd get sick.”
I was sleepy, but I murmured assent to this, and trusted he would not go on.
“Ever notice,” said he, “how the victims of the whiskey and lyin' habit get to increasing the dose?”
“Yes,” said I.
“Him roping six bears!” pursued Mr. McLean, after further contemplation. “Or any bear. Ever notice how the worser a man's lyin' the silenter other men'll get? Why's that, now?”
I believe that I made a faint sound to imply that I was following him.
“Men don't get took in. But ladies now, they—”
Here he paused again, and during the next interval of contemplation I sank beyond his reach.
In the morning I left Riverside for Buffalo, and there or thereabouts I remained for a number of weeks. Miss Peck did not enter my thoughts, nor did I meet any one to remind me of her, until one day I stopped at the drug-store. It was not for drugs, but gossip, that I went. In the daytime there was no place like the apothecary's for meeting men and hearing the news. There I heard how things were going everywhere, including Bear Creek.
All the cow-punchers liked the new girl up there, said gossip. She was a great addition to society. Reported to be more companionable than the school-marm, Miss Molly Wood, who had been raised too far east, and showed it. Vermont, or some such dude place. Several had been in town buying presents for Miss Katie Peck. Tommy Postmaster had paid high for a necklace of elk-tushes the government scout at McKinney sold him. Too bad Miss Peck did not enjoy good health. Shorty had been in only yesterday to get her medicine again. Third bottle. Had I heard the big joke on Lin McLean? He had promised her the skin of a big bear he knew the location of, and Tommy got the bear.