The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains

a-fannin’ to beat four of a kind. It made yu’ feel strange at first, as I said. For all the men had been cattle-men at one time or another. Till yu’ got accustomed, it would give ’most anybody a shock to hear ’em speak about herdin’ the bulls in a pasture by themselves.” The Virginian allowed himself another smile, but became serious again. “That was their policy,” he explained. “Except at certain times o’ year they kept the bulls separate. The Fish Commission told ’em they’d better, and it cert’nly worked mighty well. It or something did--for, gentlemen, hush! but there was millions. You’d have said all the frawgs in the world had taken charge at Tulare. And the money rolled in! Gentlemen, hush! ’twas a gold mine for the owners. Forty per cent they netted some years. And they paid generous wages. For they could sell to all them French restaurants in San Francisco, yu’ see. And there was the Cliff House. And the Palace Hotel made it a specialty. And the officers took frawgs at the Presidio, an’ Angel Island, an’ Alcatraz, an’ Benicia. Los Angeles was beginnin’ its boom. The corner-lot sharps wanted something by way of varnish. An’ so they dazzled Eastern investors with advertisin’ Tulare frawgs clear to New Orleans an’ New York. ’Twas only in Sacramento frawgs was dull. I expaict the California legislature was too or’n’ry for them fine-raised luxuries. They tell of one of them senators that he raked a million out of Los Angeles real estate, and started in for a bang-up meal with champagne. Wanted to scatter his new gold thick an’ quick. But he got astray among all the fancy dishes, an’ just yelled right out before the ladies, ‘Damn it! bring me forty dollars’ worth of ham and aiggs.’ He was a funny senator, now.” The Virginian paused, and finished eating a leg. And then with diabolic art he made a feint at wandering to new fields of anecdote. “Talkin’ of senators,” he resumed, “Senator Wise--” “How much did you say wages were at Tulare?” inquired one of the Trampas faction. “How much? Why, I never knew what the foreman got. The regular hands got a hundred. Senator Wise--” “A hundred a MONTH?” “Why, it was wet an’ muddy work, yu’ see. A man risked rheumatism some. He risked it a good deal. Well, I was going to tell about Senator Wise. When Senator Wise was speaking of his visit to Alaska--” “Forty per cent, was it?” said Trampas. “Oh, I must call my wife,” said the traveller behind me. “This is what I came West for.” And he hurried away. “Not forty per cent the bad years,” replied the Virginian. “The frawgs had enemies, same as cattle. I remember when a pelican got in the spring pasture, and the herd broke through the fence--” “Fence?” said a passenger. “Ditch, seh, and wire net. Every pasture was a square swamp with a ditch around, and a wire net. Yu’ve heard the mournful, mixed-up sound a big bunch of cattle will make? Well, seh, as yu’ druv from the railroad to the Tulare frawg ranch yu’ could hear ’em a mile. Springtime they’d sing like girls in the organ loft, and by August they were about ready to hire out for bass. And all was fit to be soloists, if I’m a judge. But in a bad year it might only be twenty per cent. The pelican rushed ’em from the pasture right into the San Joaquin River, which was close by the property. The big balance of the herd stampeded, and though of course they came out on the banks again, the news had went around, and folks below at Hemlen eat most of ’em just to spite the company. Yu’ see, a frawg in a river is more hopeless than any maverick loose on the range. And they never struck any plan to brand their stock and prove ownership.” “Well, twenty per cent is good enough for me,” said Trampas, “if Rawhide don’t suit me.” “A hundred a month!” said the enthusiast. And busy calculations began to arise among them. “It went to fifty per cent,” pursued the Virginian, “when New York and Philadelphia got to biddin’ agaynst each other. Both cities had signs all over ’em claiming to furnish the Tulare frawg. And both had ’em all right. And same as cattle trains, yu’d see frawg trains tearing acrosst Arizona--big glass tanks with wire over ’em--through to New York, an’ the frawgs starin’ out.” “Why, George,” whispered a woman’s voice behind me, “he’s merely deceiving them! He’s merely making that stuff up out of his head.” “Yes, my dear, that’s merely what he’s doing.” “Well, I don’t see why you imagined I should care for this. I think I’ll go back.” “Better see it out, Daisy. This beats the geysers or anything we’re likely to find in the Yellowstone.” “Then I wish we had gone to Bar Harbor as usual,” said the lady, and she returned to her Pullman. But her husband stayed. Indeed, the male crowd now was a goodly sight to see, how the men edged close, drawn by a common tie. Their different kinds of feet told the strength of the bond--yellow sleeping-car slippers planted miscellaneous and motionless near a pair of Mexican spurs. All eyes watched the Virginian and gave him their entire sympathy. Though they could not know his motive for it, what he was doing had fallen as light upon them--all except the excited calculators. These were loudly making their fortunes at both Rawhide and Tulare, drugged by their satanically aroused hopes of gold, heedless of the slippers and the spurs. Had a man given any sign to warn them, I think he would have been lynched. Even the Indian chiefs had come to see in their show war bonnets and blankets. They naturally understood nothing of it, yet magnetically knew that the Virginian was the great man. And they watched him with approval. He sat by the fire with the frying-pan, looking his daily self--engaging and saturnine. And now as Trampas declared tickets to California would be dear and Rawhide had better come first, the Southerner let loose his heaven-born imagination. “There’s a better reason for Rawhide than tickets, Trampas,” said he. “I said it was too late for Tulare.” “I heard you,” said Trampas. “Opinions may differ. You and I don’t think alike on several points.” “Gawd, Trampas!” said the Virginian, “d’ yu’ reckon I’d be rotting hyeh on forty dollars if Tulare was like it used to be? Tulare is broke.” “What broke it? Your leaving?” “Revenge broke it, and disease,” said the Virginian, striking the frying-pan on his knee, for the frogs were all gone. At those lurid words their untamed child minds took fire, and they drew round him again to hear a tale of blood. The crowd seemed to lean nearer. But for a short moment it threatened to be spoiled. A passenger came along, demanding in an important voice, “Where are these frogs?” He was a prominent New York after-dinner speaker, they whispered me, and out for a holiday in his private car. Reaching us and walking to the Virginian, he said cheerily, “How much do you want for your frogs, my friend?” “You got a friend hyeh?” said the Virginian. “That’s good, for yu’ need care taken of yu’.” And the prominent after-dinner speaker did not further discommode us. “That’s worth my trip,” whispered a New York passenger to me. “Yes, it was a case of revenge,” resumed the Virginian, “and disease. There was a man named Saynt Augustine got run out of Domingo, which is a Dago island. He come to Philadelphia, an’ he was dead broke. But Saynt Augustine was a live man, an’ he saw Philadelphia was full o’ Quakers that dressed plain an’ eat humdrum. So he started cookin’ Domingo way for ’em, an’ they caught right ahold. Terrapin, he gave ’em, an’ croakeets, an’ he’d use forty chickens to make a broth he called consommay. An’ he got rich, and Philadelphia got well known, an’ Delmonico in New York he got jealous. He was the cook that had the say-so in New York.” “Was Delmonico one of them I-talians?” inquired a fascinated mutineer. “I don’t know. But he acted like one. Lorenzo was his front name. He aimed to cut--” “Domingo’s throat?” breathed the enthusiast. “Aimed to cut away the trade from Saynt Augustine an’ put Philadelphia back where he thought she belonged. Frawgs was the fashionable rage then. These foreign cooks set the fashion in eatin’, same as foreign dressmakers do women’s clothes. Both cities was catchin’ and swallowin’ all the frawgs Tulare could throw at ’em. So he--” “Lorenzo?” said the enthusiast. “Yes, Lorenzo Delmonico. He bid a dollar a tank higher. An’ Saynt Augustine raised him fifty cents. An’ Lorenzo raised him a dollar. An’ Saynt Augustine shoved her up three. Lorenzo he didn’t expect Philadelphia would go that high, and he got hot in the collar, an’ flew round his kitchen in New York, an’ claimed he’d twist Saynt Augustine’s Domingo tail for him and crack his ossified system. Lorenzo raised his language to a high temperature, they say. An’ then quite sudden off he starts for Tulare. He buys tickets over the Santa Fe, and he goes a-fannin’ and a-foggin’. But, gentlemen, hush! The very same day Saynt Augustine he tears out of Philadelphia. He travelled by the way o’ Washington, an’ out he comes a-fannin’ an’ a-foggin’ over the Southern Pacific. Of course Tulare didn’t know nothin’ of this. All it knowed was how the frawg market was on soarin’ wings, and it was feelin’ like a flight o’ rawckets. If only there’d been some preparation,--a telegram or something,--the disaster would never have occurred. But Lorenzo and Saynt Augustine was that absorbed watchin’ each other--for, yu’ see, the Santa Fe and the Southern Pacific come together at Mojave, an’ the two cooks travelled a matter of two hundred an’ ten miles in the same cyar--they never thought about a telegram. And when they arruv, breathless, an’ started in to screechin’ what they’d give for the monopoly, why, them unsuspectin’ Tulare boys got amused at ’em. I never heard just all they done, but they had Lorenzo singin’ and dancin’, while Saynt Augustine played the fiddle for him. And one of Lorenzo’s heels did get a trifle grazed. Well, them two cooks quit that ranch without disclosin’ their identity, and soon as they got to a safe distance they swore eternal friendship, in their excitable foreign way. And they went home over the Union Pacific, sharing the same stateroom. Their revenge killed frawgs. The disease--” “How killed frogs?” demanded Trampas. “Just killed ’em. Delmonico and Saynt Augustine wiped frawgs off the slate of fashion. Not a banker in Fifth Avenue’ll touch one now if another banker’s around watchin’ him. And if ever yu’ see a man that hides his feet an’ won’t take off his socks in company, he has worked in them Tulare swamps an’ got the disease. Catch him wadin’, and yu’ll find he’s web-footed. Frawgs are dead, Trampas, and so are you.” “Rise up, liars, and salute your king!” yelled Scipio. “Oh, I’m in love with you!” And he threw his arms round the Virginian. “Let me shake hands with you,” said the traveller, who had failed to interest his wife in these things. “I wish I was going to have more of your company.” “Thank ye’, seh,” said the Virginian. Other passengers greeted him, and the Indian chiefs came, saying, “How!” because they followed their feelings without understanding. “Don’t show so humbled, boys,” said the deputy foreman to his most sheepish crew. “These gentlemen from the East have been enjoying yu’ some, I know. But think what a weary wait they have had hyeh. And you insisted on playing the game with me this way, yu’ see. What outlet did yu’ give me? Didn’t I have it to do? And I’ll tell yu’ one thing for your consolation: when I got to the middle of the frawgs I ’most believed it myself.” And he laughed out the first laugh I had heard him give. The enthusiast came up and shook hands. That led off, and the rest followed, with Trampas at the end. The tide was too strong for him. He