The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains by Owen Wister (beach read book txt) 📗

Several were now eating with satisfaction, but not Scipio. It was all that he could do to cook straight. The whole man seemed to glisten. His eye was shut to a slit once more, while the innocent passengers thankfully swallowed.

“Now, you see, you have made some money,” began the Virginian to the native who had helped him get the frogs.

“Bet your life!” exclaimed the man. “Divvy, won't you?” And he held out half his gains.

“Keep 'em,” returned the Southerner. “I reckon we're square. But I expaict they'll not equal Delmonico's, seh?” he said to a passenger.

“Don't trust the judgment of a man as hungry as I am!” exclaimed the traveller, with a laugh. And he turned to his fellow-travellers. “Did you ever enjoy supper at Delmonico's more than this?”

“Never!” they sighed.

“Why, look here,” said the traveller, “what fools the people of this town are! Here we've been all these starving days, and you come and get ahead of them!”

“That's right easy explained,” said the Virginian. “I've been where there was big money in frawgs, and they 'ain't been. They're all cattle hyeh. Talk cattle, think cattle, and they're bankrupt in consequence. Fallen through. Ain't that so?” he inquired of the native.

“That's about the way,” said the man.

“It's mighty hard to do what your neighbors ain't doin',” pursued the Virginian. “Montana is all cattle, an' these folks must be cattle, an' never notice the country right hyeh is too small for a range, an' swampy, anyway, an' just waitin' to be a frawg ranch.”

At this, all wore a face of careful reserve.

“I'm not claimin' to be smarter than you folks hyeh,” said the Virginian, deprecatingly, to his assistant. “But travellin' learns a man many customs. You wouldn't do the business they done at Tulare, California, north side o' the lake. They cert'nly utilized them hopeless swamps splendid. Of course they put up big capital and went into it scientific, gettin' advice from the government Fish Commission, an' such like knowledge. Yu' see, they had big markets for their frawgs,—San Francisco, Los Angeles, and clear to New York afteh the Southern Pacific was through. But up hyeh yu' could sell to passengers every day like yu' done this one day. They would get to know yu' along the line. Competing swamps are scarce. The dining-cyars would take your frawgs, and yu' would have the Yellowstone Park for four months in the year. Them hotels are anxious to please, an' they would buy off yu' what their Eastern patrons esteem as fine-eatin'. And you folks would be sellin' something instead o' nothin'.”

“That's a practical idea,” said a traveller. “And little cost.”

“And little cost,” said the Virginian.

“Would Eastern people eat frogs?” inquired the man.

“Look at us!” said the traveller.

“Delmonico doesn't give yu' such a treat!” said the Virginian.

“Not exactly!” the traveller exclaimed.

“How much would be paid for frogs?” said Trampas to him. And I saw Scipio bend closer to his cooking.

“Oh, I don't know,” said the traveller. “We've paid pretty well, you see.”

“You're late for Tulare, Trampas,” said the Virginian.

“I was not thinking of Tulare,” Trampas retorted. Scipio's nose was in the frying-pan.

“Mos' comical spot you ever struck!” said the Virginian, looking round upon the whole company. He allowed himself a broad smile of retrospect. “To hear 'em talk frawgs at Tulare! Same as other folks talks hawsses or steers or whatever they're raising to sell. Yu'd fall into it yourselves if yu' started the business. Anything a man's bread and butter depends on, he's going to be earnest about. Don't care if it is a frawg.”

“That's so,” said the native. “And it paid good?”

“The only money in the county was right there,” answered the Virginian. “It was a dead county, and only frawgs was movin'. But that business was 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