“Why, them sheep-men back in the Bible—Laban and Solomon and them old-timers. What made ’em quit?”
“They didn’t all quit. There, you’ve made me lose that fish. Are you thinking two wives would be twice as bad as one?”
“You’ll get another fish. I’m thinking they wouldn’t be half as bad as one.”
Certain passages in Scipio’s earlier days came into my mind, but I did not mention them to him. Possibly he was thinking of them himself.
“Two at once is not considered moral in this country,” I said.
Scipio mused. “I’m not sure I’ve ever clearly understood about morals,” he muttered. “Are you going to keep that whitefish?”
“I always keep a few for the hens. Makes ’em lay.”
This caused Scipio to look frowningly across Buffalo Horn to where the Culloden Ranch buildings lay clear in the blue crystal of the afternoon light. “Marriage ain’t learned in a day,” he remarked, “any more than ropin’ stock is. He ain’t learned how to be married yet.”
Again I thought of Scipio’s past adventures and remembered that the best critics are they who have failed in art.
“Did you mean what you said about hunting with me?” Scipio now inquired.