The Tontine was the most elegant place I'd ever been in, and as I sat quiet at the table listening to the talk between Bill Bush, who owned the Clarendon, and Con Judy, I began to see that those outlaws I'd thought so important were really a mighty small catch.

Con smoked a long black Cuban cigar and talked about railroads, hotels, and banking until I couldn't believe he was the same man I'd met in a buffalo camp.

The thing that surprised me was how everybody listened to what he had to say.  I mean, you felt he was somebody important.  During supper half a dozen men stopped by to speak to him, and to ask his opinion on this or that.

Of course, as pa had told me and as I'd learned of my ownself, you never knew who you were meeting around a campfire, in a bunkhouse or a saloon.  Men took on the color of the country they were in, assumed its ways of speaking, its dress and manners.

From what was said I gathered that Con was an engineer, that he'd speculated in mines, railroads, and steamboats, and had made half a dozen fortunes.

He was respected.  Bill Bush and David May, who everybody said was an up-and-coming man, listened with attention to what Con said.

"You should go into road-building, Con," Bush said.  "Colorado has the ore, but we need roads to get it out.  The best mines are in the high country, and to many of the mines there are only trails."

Bush left us to talk to some friends, and Con talked to me about some of the men we'd met.  He pointed out a man across the room.  "He's got a nice business now, and he's going to make it big."  Con brushed the ash from his cigar.  "When he came into town he was broke.  He found out they were refilling champagne bottles, so he began collecting them.  They say he collected over nine thousand, saved his money, and started trading."

Several of the men who stopped by the table had heard that somebody had taken a shot at Con, and he corrected them and told them it was me who had been shot at.  Shooting was no unusual thing in Leadville, but it didn't happen every day, either, and nobody likes a dry-gulcher who'll shoot out of the dark at a man.

When we were alone, Con said, "Shell, you'll find times when you have to fight.  The secret is never to hunt trouble."

"You mean I shouldn't look for Reese and them?"

"I did not say that.  They brought trouble to you.  The money is rightfully yours, and you must settle it as you see fit.

"I brought you here tonight for several reasons.  First, because you are my friend and I enjoy your company.  Second, because I wanted some of the respectable citizens of the town to know you in case there is trouble later.  Third, because it is time for you to realize there are other aspects of the world than those you have seen so far."

He paused, drank some coffee, and then went on, "We will always have Reeses and Heseltines, and they will always seem big and brave to growing boys.  They swagger and make loud noises in their own little circle, but they are only the coyotes that yap around the heels of the herd."

"Remember this, Shell, the coyotes aren't going anywhere, but the herd is, and so are the men who drive the herd."

There was sense in what he said, but it rankled a little bit.  I didn't like the feeling that I hadn't known better, but it was true that in this place a man like Reese would have been pretty small potatoes.