“I reckon—­and why shouldn’t he?  He’ll play evens some day, of course.  But now, Molly,” he went on, with heat, “what’s the use talking?  We both know that Molly’s made up her mind.  She loves Sam and don’t love this other man any more than I do.  He’s only a drift-about back from the war, and wandering out to Oregon.  He’ll maybe not have a cent when he gets there.  He’s got one horse and his clothes, and one or two wagons, maybe not paid for.  Sam’s got five wagons of goods to start a store with, and three thousand gold—­so he says—­as much as we have.  The families are equal, and that’s always a good thing.  This man Banion can’t offer Molly nothing, but Sam Woodhull can give her her place right from the start, out in Oregon.  We got to think of all them things.

“And I’ve got to think of a lot of other things, too.  It’s our girl.  It’s all right to say a man can go out to Oregon and live down his past, but it’s a lot better not to have no past to live down.  You know what Major Banion done, and how he left the Army—­even if it wasn’t why, it was how, and that’s bad enough.  Sam Woodhull has told us both all about Banion’s record.  If he’d steal in Mexico he’d steal in Oregon.”

“You didn’t ever get so far along as to talk about that!”

“We certainly did—­right now, him and me, not half an hour ago, while we was riding back.”

“I shouldn’t have thought he’d of stood it,” said his wife, “him sort of fiery-like.”

“Well, it did gravel him.  He got white, but wouldn’t talk.  Asked if Sam Woodhull had the proof, and I told him he had.  That was when he said he’d go back to his own wagons.  I could see he was avoiding Sam.  But I don’t see how, away out here, and no law nor nothing, we’re ever going to keep the two apart.”

“They wasn’t.”

“No.  They did have it out, like schoolboys behind a barn.  Do you suppose that’ll ever do for a man of spirit like Sam Woodhull?  No, there’s other ways.  And as I said, it’s a far ways from the law out here, and getting farther every day, and wilder and wilder every day.  It’s only putting it off, Molly, but on the whole I was glad when Banion said he’d give up looking for Sam Woodhull this morning and go on back to his own men.”

“Did he say he’d give it up?”

“Yes, he did.  He said if I’d wait I’d see different.  Said he could wait—­said he was good at waiting.”

“But he didn’t say he’d give it up?”

“I don’t know as he did in so many words.”

“He won’t,” said Molly Wingate.

CHAPTER XX

THE BUFFALO

The emigrants had now arrived at the eastern edge of the great region of free and abundant meat.  They now might count on at least six or seven hundred miles of buffalo to subsist them on their way to Oregon.  The cry of “Buffalo!  Buffalo!” went joyously down the lines of wagons, and every man who could muster a horse and a gun made ready for that chase which above all others meant most, whether in excitement or in profit.