“Have yu' been to the opera since we went to Cheyenne, Mrs. Taylor?”
Mrs. Taylor had not.
“Lin,” said the Virginian, “did yu ever see that opera Cyarmen?”
“You bet. Fellow's girl quits him for a bullfighter. Gets him up in the mountains, and quits him. He wasn't much good—not in her class o' sports, smugglin' and such.”
“I reckon she was doubtful of him from the start. Took him to the mount'ins to experiment, where they'd not have interruption,” said the Virginian.
“Talking of mountains,” said Tommy, “this range here used to be a great place for Indians till we ran 'em out with Terry. Pumped lead into the red sons-of-guns.”
“You bet,” said Lin. “Do yu' figure that girl tired of her bull-fighter and quit him, too?”
“I reckon,” replied the Virginian, “that the bull-fighter wore better.”
“Fans and taverns and gypsies and sportin',” said Lin. “My! but I'd like to see them countries with oranges and bull-fights! Only I expect Spain, maybe, ain't keepin' it up so gay as when 'Carmen' happened.”
The table-talk soon left romance and turned upon steers and alfalfa, a grass but lately introduced in the country. No further mention was made of the hostile Crows, and from this I drew the false conclusion that Tommy had not come up to their hopes in the matter of reciting his campaigns. But when the hour came for those visitors who were not spending the night to take their leave, Taylor drew Tommy aside with me, and I noticed the Virginian speaking with Molly Wood, whose face showed diversion.