"For goodness' sake, Winthrop, sit down and talk to me. There's
nothing so stupid as dining alone--and especially when you want to talk
to somebody." As Endicott seated himself, she rattled on: "I wanted to
go to that preposterous supper they are going to 'dish up' at the
hotel, but when I found they were going to separate the 'ladies and
gents' and feed them in relays, I somehow lost the urge. The men, most
of them, are interesting--but the women are deadly. I know just what
it would be--caught snatches of it from the wagons during the
lulls--preserves, and babies, and what Harry's ma died of. The men
carry an atmosphere of unrestraint--of freshness----"
Endicott interrupted her with a nod: "Yes," he observed, dryly, "I
believe that is the term----"
"Don't be guilty of a pun, Winthrop. At least, not a slangy one. It's
quite unsuited to your style of beauty. But, really, wasn't it all
delightful? Did you ever see such riding, and shooting, and lassoing?"
"No. But I have never lived in a country where it is done. I have
always understood that cowboys were proficient along those lines, but
why shouldn't they be? It's their business----"
"There you go--reducing everything to terms of business! Can't you see
the romance of it--what it stands for? The wild free life of the
plains, the daily battling with the elements, and the mastery of nerve
and skill over blind brute force and fury! I love it! And tonight I'm
going to a real cowboy dance.
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