MorninghadbeenforsomewhileastirinMedicineBowbeforeI
leftmyquilts。Thenewdayanditsdoingsbeganaroundmeinthestore，chieflyatthegrocerycounter。Dry-goodswerenotingreatrequest。Theearlyrisingcow-boyswereoffagaintotheirwork；andthosetowhomtheirnight’sholidayhadleftanydollarswerespendingthesefortobacco，orcartridges，orcannedprovisionsforthejourneytotheirdistantcamps。Sardineswerecalledfor，andpottedchicken，anddevilledham:asophisticatednourishment，atfirstsight，forthesesonsofthesage-brush。
Butportableready-madefoodplaysofnecessityagreatpartintheopeningofanewcountry。ThesepicnicpotsandcanswerethefirstofhertrophiesthatCivilizationdroppeduponWyoming’svirginsoil。Thecow-boyisnowgonetoworldsinvisible；thewindhasblownawaythewhiteashesofhiscamp-fires；buttheemptysardineboxliesrustingoverthefaceoftheWesternearth。
SothroughmyeyeshalfclosedIwatchedthesaleofthesetins，andgrewfamiliarwiththeham’sinevitabletrade-mark——thatlabelwiththedevilandhishornsandhoofsandtailverypronounced，allcoloredasultryprodigiousscarlet。Andwheneachhorsemanhadmadehispurchase，hewouldtrailhisspursoverthefloor，andpresentlythesoundofhishorse’shoofswouldbethelastofhim。Throughmydozingattentioncamevariousfragmentsoftalk，andsometimesusefulbitsofknowledge。Forinstance，Ilearnedthetruevalueoftomatoesinthiscountry。Onefellowwasbuyingtwocansofthem。
“MeadowCreekdryalready？“commentedtheproprietor。