“Our cattle were all played out,” Saxon was saying, “and winter was so near that we couldn't dare try to cross the Great American Desert, so our train stopped in Salt Lake City that winter. The Mormons hadn't got bad yet, and they were good to us.”  
“You talk as though you were there,” Bert commented.
 
“My mother was,” Saxon answered proudly. “She was nine years old that winter.”
 
They were seated around the table in the kitchen of the little Pine Street cottage, making a cold lunch of sandwiches, tamales, and bottled beer. It being Sunday, the four were free from work, and they had come early, to work harder than on any week day, washing walls and windows, scrubbing floors, laying carpets and , hanging curtains, setting up the stove, putting the kitchen and dishes away, and placing the furniture.
 
“Go on with the story, Saxon,” Mary begged. “I'm just dyin' to hear. And Bert, you just shut up and listen.”
 
“Well, that winter was when Del Hancock showed up. He was Kentucky born, but he'd been in the West for years. He was a , like Carson, and he knew him well. Many's a time Kit Carson and he slept under the same blankets. They were together to California and Oregon with General Fremont. Well, Del Hancock was passing on his way through Salt Lake, going I don't know where to raise a company of Rocky Mountain trappers to go after some new place he knew about. He was a handsome man. He wore his hair long like in pictures, and had a silk sash around his waist he'd learned to wear in California from the Spanish, and two revolvers in his belt. Any woman 'd fall in love with him first sight. Well, he saw Sadie, who was my mother's oldest sister, and I guess she looked good to him, for he stopped right there in Salt Lake and didn't go a step. He was a great Indian fighter, too, and I heard my Aunt say, when I was a little girl, that he had the blackest, brightest eyes, and that the way he looked was like an eagle. He'd fought , too, the way they did in those days, and he wasn't afraid of anything.
 
“Sadie was a beauty, and she with him and drove him crazy. Maybe she wasn't sure of her own mind, I don't know. But I do know that she didn't give in as easy as I did to Billy. Finally, he couldn't stand it any more. He rode up that night on horseback, wild as could be. 'Sadie,' he said, 'if you don't promise to marry me to-morrow, I'll shoot myself to-night right back of the corral.' And he'd have done it, too, and Sadie knew it, and said she would. Didn't they make love fast in those days?”
 
“Oh, I don't know,” Mary . “A week after you first laid eyes on Billy you was engaged. Did Billy say he was going to shoot himself back of the laundry if you turned him down?”
 
“I didn't give him a chance,” Saxon confessed. “Anyway Del Hancock and Aunt Sadie got married next day. And they were very happy , only she died. And after that he was killed, with General Custer and all the rest, by the Indians. He was an old man by then, but I guess he got his share of Indians before they got him. Men like him always died fighting, and they took their dead with them. I used to know Al Stanley when I was a little girl. He was a gambler, but he was game. A railroad man shot him in the back when he was sitting at a table. That shot killed him, too. He died in about two seconds. But before he died he'd pulled his gun and put three bullets into the man that killed him.”
 
“I don't like fightin',” Mary protested. “It makes me nervous. Bert gives me the willies the way he's always lookin' for trouble. There ain't no sense in it.”
 
“And I wouldn't give a snap of my fingers for a man without fighting spirit,” Saxon answered. “Why, we wouldn't be here to-day if it wasn't for the fighting spirit of our people before us.”
 
“You've got the real goods of a fighter in Billy,” Bert assured her; “a yard long and a yard wide and genuine A Number One, long-fleeced wool. Billy's a Mohegan with a scalp-lock, that's what he is. And when he gets his mad up it's a case of get out from under or something will fall on you—hard.”
 
“Just like that,” Mary added.
 
Billy, who had taken no part in the conversation, got up, glanced into the bedroom off the kitchen, went into the and the bedroom off the parlor, then returned and stood gazing with puzzled brows into the kitchen bedroom.
 
“What's eatin' you, old man,” Bert . “You look as though you'd lost something or was markin' a three-way ticket. What you got on your chest? Cough it up.”
 
“Why, I'm just thinkin' where in Sam Hill's the bed an' stuff for the back bedroom.”
 
“There isn't any,” Saxon explained. “We didn't order any.”
 
“Then I'll see about it to-morrow.”
 
“What d'ye want another bed for?” asked Bert. “Ain't one bed enough for the two of you?”
 
“You shut up, Bert!” Mary cried. “Don't get raw.”
 
“Whoa, Mary!” Bert grinned. “Back up. You're in the wrong stall as usual.”
 ............