will leave us." And the Virginian looked out across the huge winter whiteness again. But the riders had now vanished behind some foothills.
Scipio sat silent. He had never put these thoughts about men and animals to himself, and when they were put to him, he saw that they were true.
"Queer," he observed finally.
"What?"
"Everything."
"Nothing's queer," stated the Virginian, "except marriage and lightning. Them two occurrences can still give me a sensation of surprise."
"All the same it is queer," Scipio insisted.
"Well, let her go at me."
"Why, Trampas. He done you dirt. You pass that over. You could have fired him, but you let him stay and keep his job. That's goodness. And badness is resultin' from it, straight. Badness right from goodness."
"You're off the trail a whole lot," said the Virginian.
"Which side am I off, then?"
"North, south, east, and west. First point: I didn't expect to do Trampas any good by not killin' him, which I came pretty near doin' three times. Nor I didn't expect to do Trampas any good by lettin' him keep his job. But I am foreman of this ranch. And I can sit and tell all men to their face: 'I was above that meanness.' Point two: it ain't any goodness, it is Trampas that badness has resulted from. Put him anywhere and it will be the same. Put him under my eye, and I can follow his moves a little,
