They were cooking supper, and they had "beefed a critter" that had broken a leg that afternoon running among rocks.

Casey shuffled his responsibility and watched, in complete content, while the show people gorged on broiled yearling steaks.

(I dislike to use the word gorge where a lady's appetite is involved, but that is the word which Casey thought of first.) Later, the show people very amiably consented to entertain their hosts.

It was then that Casey was once more blinded by the brilliance of the lady and forgot certain little blemishes that had seemed to him quite pronounced.

The cowboys obligingly built a bonfire before the tent, into which the couple retired to set their stage and tune their instruments.
Casey lay back on a cowboy's rolled bed with his knees crossed, his hands clasped behind his thinning hair, and smoked and watched the first pale stars come out while he listened to the pleasant twang of banjos in the tuning.
It was great.