“Ah! On a vacation, perhaps?” The divine had a ruddy facet. His strong glance was straight and frank and fearless; but his smile too much reminded me of days bygone, when we used to return to school from the Christmas holidays, and the masters would shake our hands and welcome us with: “Robert, John, Edward, glad to see you all looking so well! Rested, and ready for hard work, I'm sure!”
That smile does not really please even good, tame little boys; and the Virginian was nearing thirty.
“It has not been vacation this trip, seh,” said he, settling straight in his saddle. “There's the Judge driving in now, in time for all questions yu' have to ask him.”
His horse took a step, but was stopped short. There lay the Virginian's rope on the ground. I had been aware of Trampas's quite proper departure during the talk; and as he was leaving, I seemed also to be aware of his placing the coil across the cantle of its owner's saddle. Had he intended it to fall and have to be picked up? It was another evasive little business, and quite successful, if designed to nag the owner of the rope. A few hundred yards ahead of us Trampas was now shouting loud cow-boy shouts. Were they to announce his return to those at home, or did they mean derision? The Virginian leaned, keeping his seat, and, swinging down his arm, caught up the rope, and hung it on his saddle somewhat carefully. But the hue of rage spread over his face.
From his fence the divine now spoke, in approbation, but with another strong, cheerless smile. “You pick up that rope as if you were well trained to it.”
“It's part of our business, seh, and we try to mind it like the rest.” But this, stated in a gentle drawl, did not pierce the missionary's armor; his superiority was very thick.
We now rode on, and I was impressed by the reverend gentleman's robust, dictatorial back as he proceeded by a short cut through the meadow to the ranch. You could take him for nothing but a vigorous, sincere, dominating man, full of the highest purpose. But whatever his creed, I already doubted if he were the right one to sow it and make it grow in these new, wild fields. He seemed more the sort of gardener to keep old walks and vines pruned in their antique rigidity. I admired him for coming all this way with his clean, short, gray whiskers and his black, well-brushed suit. And he made me think of a powerful locomotive stuck puffing on a grade.
Meanwhile, the Virginian rode beside me, so silent in his volcanic wrath that I did not perceive it. The missionary coming on top of Trampas had been more than he could stand. But I did not know, and I spoke with innocent cheeriness.
“Is the parson going to save us?” I asked; and I fairly jumped at his voice: “Don't talk so much!” he burst out. I had got the whole accumulation!
“Who's been talking?” I in equal anger screeched back. “I'm not trying to save you. I didn't take your rope.” And having poured this out, I whipped up my pony.