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Great Small Cat and Others

<h2 class="illo"> THE GREAT SMALL CAT </h2> Once upon a time, a while ago, during pleasant hours spent in the "land of big cows and small horses," I met one of the most modest of black mother cats, but one with such a pathetic experience in her life as to make her stand alone, not as a cat, but as the cat. At any rate, the story as told by the young ranchman is absolutely true and surely worth the telling, if only to prove that cats are singularly human in their love for their offspring, and are all mother in sacrifice and thoughtful care, giving life itself if necessary in unselfish devotion. The cat was small, bright-eyed and clean but apparently of the most commonplace and ordinary variety, and not distinguished by any special attractiveness as to species. Still, on hearing the "story of her life" as related by this man, one of her most faithful benefactors, of how she cheated fate and battled with fear and death, conquering every natural antipathy, it made one feel that it was an event to meet her. To encounter [4] such a plain unassuming little creature who had given positive proof of harboring in her small head the brain of a diplomat and of being so surprisingly shrewd, and so gloriously fearless, was an incident of such stirring revelation as to make it of marked consequence. In telling the story, the cattleman said it was partly owing to the accident of the little mother-cat's being black in color that she was here on the ranch in a little corner that she felt was home and that meant happiness to her. There may be in some out-of-the-way corners of the world, people who still believe in magic and folk-lore and with them the fair fame of black cats ever suffers from that benighted superstition of ancient times, that they are creatures of witches and devils. But the more modern belief makes double reparation for this uncanny ignorance by giving them the reputation of not only always bringing good luck in their wake, but lovers as well. Larry was squatting upon his heels, his broad back leaning carelessly against the "bunk house," while he gazed reminiscently down over his pipe at the modest bunch of black fur neatly snuggled in the dust at his side, all four paws tucked out of sight, when, in Western cameraderie, I coaxed from him the story I had wondered so much about and longed to hear in detail. As he began to tell me about it in the lazy, good-natured, provincial dialect of the plains, one hand strayed caressingly to the head of the "little pard" and lingered there lovingly while he talked and smoked. [5] "Oh, she's just a small stray that loped in on our range, but y'u can bet ye'r life she's a winner all right and a bunch hard to beat. She's 'just cat,' but there ain't nothing nowhere purtier, and y'u couldn't go out in a whole round-up of felines and rope a gentler one, though she's grit clear through to the backbone." The "bunch hard to beat" looked up into her friend's face with bright, inquiring eyes, understanding the love and approval in his glance if not the great distinction conferred upon her of being the bright, particular star in the story he was relating. "Well, y'u see, it's this-a-way," explained Larry, in his pleasant drawl, removing his briar and stiffening his muscles: "Cats is mighty useful things. What would the blamed country be without them anyway?—an' it's no way reasonable that we could run this ranch without this little peacherino. She's just a soft pretty thing, but she's sure got spunk enough for a wild bull. Lordy me! we're just plumb foolish over her, and she don't step on nobody's bunions no more, y'u bet! She ain't that sort. She's so modest and quiet it beats all how good it makes y'u feel just to have her round; a sort of spiritual uplift and missionary 'home sweet home' broke gentle to the gang." Evidently these men, really manly men, some of them as brown and wrinkled as an old leather shoe, were the little cat's sincere admirers. As I listened to the story, I stole her from the ranchman's hand and gathered her, almost reverently, [6] in my lap, more then as a testimony to the big-heartedness and sterling human qualities of the Western cattlemen, than as the distinguished heroine of the narrative. It seems that at the noon hour, about the middle of one April, while the men were idly loitering on the shady side of the adobe, waiting for the hour to strike which called them to work again, a dusty, fuzzy little black streak scooted in from the direction of the road and dropped all in a heap, breathless and exhausted, at their feet. The "déboo" of this miserable little stranger had been unannounced and the suddenness of this rather dramatic entrance upon the scene of the unexpected, though tiny débutante, caused quite a flutter among the men, and pipes and cigarettes were hastily laid aside in order that they might look over at close range this "feeble short horn." The bedraggled little "black streak" proved on examination to be the thinnest, most woebegone, footsore, starved and wholly exhausted black kitten ever seen, whose tired legs had been able to carry her just this far—not a step farther could she have gone. She was indeed a pitiful creature, half-dead with fear and fatigue, and in looks so painfully appealing that she waked compassion in even the stoniest heart. Evidently she had traveled far, without food or rest, as she was completely done for. Why she came, or from where, nobody could tell, but probably chased and hunted until absolutely worn out, she had in her extremity ventured into this refuge of humans, taking her chances. To the everlasting [7] honor of these rough ranch hands, their tough bachelor hearts were touched by this helpless, sick-looking little mite of a kitten, and they decided that she was to stay and be made comfortable. Feeling half-ashamed of their compassionate impulse and in order to hide even from one another any unmanly sentiment in the matter, one said: "H'its powerful good luck to have a black cat hit the camp! I like the color, boys, and have a hunch it'll bring us great; let's rope and brand her for our diggins." So the "good luck" was not scatted off, but was introduced to the ranch and seemed very grateful for their soft-hearted hospitality. When she had lapped some good warm milk into her vacant stomach she gained sufficient strength to express her satisfaction with what had been "handed out to her," and showed a most beautiful willingness to stay by it. The "hostess" of this ranch was a large, wide "widow woman," in eloquent vernacular "grass," one of those very capable, hard-working individuals whose precarious temper even when all went well with her, was never to be imposed upon. Her brisk, ponderous tread was a power, real and felt, and not to be trifled with for a moment in any mood. The boys realized that she would be "plumb discouraging" to any scheme for the adoption of this tiny waif, and knew the utter futility of trying to pull her heartstrings in any kind of sympathy for "only a cat." So they turned all their energies into the most guilty, barefaced [8] personal coaxing and cajolery in order to get any kind of concession in her department for this additional feeder. As they expected, she was about as responsive as a Chinese Joss and as hard as a stone to any possible allurements the kitten might develop as a home-maker, and the very most they could gain from the "old grouch" was a grudging consent to just "let her stay round till some other place can be found for her." "And her face wasn't a mite smiling or even friendly as she said it." So the poor little kitten, being only on sufferance, accepted such crusts of charity as came her way, and was mighty grateful; for she was very hungry, very weary, and good food had long been a strange thing in her small stomach. It was plain the kitten had never known anything of home or a fireside and was simply of the humble garden variety of cat. Yet she was not an outcast or a tramp by nature, for she proved very quick to fall into ways which contributed to the cosiness of the cabin kitchen, even with the scant encouragement she received. The feminine eternal heart-throb of home-making was certainly there in her breast, for just like "other folks" she took her allotted place in the corner back of the big stove and was singularly human in the snug enjoyment of the comfort of it. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i-027.jpg" width-obs="261" height-obs="577" alt="" /> THE GREAT SMALL CAT Although the Small Stray Was Minus All Signs of Pedigree, She Held Her Head High and Was Accorded the Respect and Good Treatment Due a Lady </div> In the cattle country the one momentary lull in affairs is when the day's work is over and night has settled down over the lonesome miles of ranch and the men are all gathered in a circle round the open fire. In this good-fellowship under the big stars one night, they fell to discussing their little [9] black protégée, and the permission they had to only "let her stay round." As they were almost maternally solicitous that she should have a permanent home with them, they decided that as her sponsors they were in a way responsible and had better get busy at once and attend to her serious education, laying out the details of her conduct on a straight and narrow path of duty. Larry was the one selected to "break her gentle," and at his very first opportunity was requested to "do the decent" and to start her off with a strictly private and business tip, speaking for the whole outfit. In recalling this incident in the game, Larry's big laugh rang out until he wiped the tears away with a corner of the gay bandanna knotted about his neck. "I took this tenderfoot aside," he said, "and gave it to her personally and straight, y'u bet. Come here, pard, says I, I've got to give it to y'u private and special. We want y'u to camp in this yere diggins for always, but, if y'u get a chance to stay, y'u've got to conduct yereself decorus. This yere is a bachelor round-up with one skirt that's the big boss of the whole outfit. What she says goes and y'u want to get that into yere system from the start-off. We want to give y'u a square deal with no superfluous language, but She's the cinch and y'll get what's coming to y'u, all right, if y'u don't go cautious." The recounter said that the very grave and polite way the kitten took this "rounding-up spiritually" was killing, solemnly looking him straight in the eye with painful concentration, [10] her little nose in nervous crinkles. Larry confessed that the big effort this small vagrant made "to get the drift" of what he was trying to impress on her mind, made him feel like a huge brute. Anyway, by some trick of his slow, delicious drawl, the timely warning "sunk in" and found a responsive chord in her consciousness. In some way she fathomed his friendly intention and understood, at least, the magic timbre of his soothing voice which flashed back entire confidence and drew to him a friend, one who was infinitely shy, but one who would trust him absolutely while life lasted. These paternal young cowmen, having delivered their souls of this religious act of discipline, "pulled the stake" and let her go free. By the time the days of kittenhood had passed the "stray" had grown plump and her coat glossy, and although minus all signs of pedigree, she held her head high and had acquired a certain modest dignity, sufficient to deceive a layman and to insure the respect and good treatment due a lady. Evidently she had been careful to mind the warning and was conducting herself "decorus." In return for their hospitality she attended to her part of the ranch business by keeping the cabin and pantry strictly clear of all rats and mice. Occasionally she gave chase to the wild things good for cats, and at milking time, if she happened to "hang round," the men were sure to give her a fine dessert of warm milk. As the days and weeks went happily by for her, she unobtrusively arranged her life to suit the pleasant [11] place she had fallen into, gaining an honest living by her skill, with a few luxuries thrown in at unexpected intervals by the men, who would forget her for days at a time, owing to her modest way of keeping in the background. If on some lean and hungry days, when hunting had not been so successful, she would sometimes wistfully sniff, with eager, yearning stomach and longing, though decently distant eyes, the bountiful, savory mess of the kitchen, or venture to rub too coaxingly near the bustling form juggling the pots and pans with energetic vehemence, she was soon made to understand that she had overstepped the bounds of her tolerance, in trespassing on the particular domain of one who just endured her unwelcome presence. Being feminine and an unusually sensible and peaceable cat, she soon developed a surprising acuteness in diplomacy and in warding off unnecessary trouble. After various mortifying experiences she found it best to be "only handy" at such times as the feasts were in progress, creeping most cautiously in, a-tiptoe on her soft noiseless pads, just to be there in case any tidbits should come her way. All might have been well, and life a long holiday, leading her in pleasant ways to the end, had she not erred, and so innocently and blindly erred. Of course it was scandalous, if natural, and not to be tolerated for one moment by the already much overburdened landlady. The downfall came as a terribly stiff jolt to poor kitty, for her heart had swelled with guiltless pride over her sin and its achievement. [12] One sad Sunday morning she was discovered in her cosy corner, a very picture of innocent content over the beautiful surprise she had created for the family. There she lay with her eyes half-closed, softly beaming in rapture on six very small, newly born infants at her breasts. As she was "discovered" she looked up in her delirium of happiness with a hesitating, half-apologetic sort of smile, as one longing for, yet meeting, no response. Her anxiety was so exactly human that no one could mistake her meaning or her little weak smile of hesitating conciliation. But it froze in a flash when with frightened dismay she heard the hustling housewife's loud and angry denunciation of "the march that hussy had stolen on us," and the sentence of "immediate death" or "transportation" pronounced on "her and her brood," in stentorian and not-to-be-trifled-with tones. These square men with square jaws were "all in a heap" over the size and caliber of the shock their pet had handed out to them. The smoldering spark of guardianship that had been fanned to a warm, comfortable flame in their breasts was not so easily extinguished, but they realized that all pleading and diplomacy with the outraged Authority would be in vain this time. No pet on the ranch had ever, in an unobtrusive way, gained so firm a hold on their stout hearts and "their pile of hope was busted well" by this rude interruption to the tremendous bid they had made on the bad-tempered woman's favor. Not only did they hate to part with this shy, little, inoffensive protégée, but that she had failed to "make good" in the [13] eyes of the one whom, in their fiercest rage they dared not oppose, and so had lost her home, was a sickening disappointment. As they braced themselves for the worst and stood there smiling indulgently down on the cat so snug in her bed, there was a long and rather anxious pause during which they all seemed tongue-tied, until at last one said in playful disgust: "Humph! y'u've been plumb busy to-day, hav'n't y'u, old girl, and this time, like all females, handing out trouble for yereself with both hands." They were both disgusted and "plenty sorrowful" over the terrible fiat, but it was a case, on their part, of "have to," and a bad case, too. Not that they were afraid, but they were "hobbled," all right, as well as "bridle wise," and frankly confessed that when it came to women, they were "a mite timid." But since there was a choice of evils, in sorrowfully bending to the inevitable they, of course, decided on "transportation." In indignation they considered places, finally determining to take the offending family across the river, far, far, away where they would never more be able to trespass on so reluctant a hospitality as the ranch cabin afforded. In wide-eyed wonderment and feverish anxiety, the crestfallen young mother followed every movement in the preparations that were being made for her journey. She, of course, could not understand, but watched with vastly puzzled eyes all this strange confusion about her bed, feeling that she was surely in some way responsible for this unusual excitement. In nervous haste she passionately [14] licked the wee babies with tender, mothering tongue, and with soft caressing murmurs as if assuring them of safety and was about to do it all over again with utmost care in hopes of being able to disperse the gloom they had evidently created when she and the kits were lifted gently into a covered basket which the men had been carefully preparing for the conveyance. They knew of a place, "the furtherest ever," a real home ranch where the house-mother would be really glad of this family. It was far enough away so that the exile could never return, and besides, what made it an absolutely safe asylum in the judgment of these men was that it was across a deep flowing river, which meant that there could be no "stampede" back. Even for the most homesick of kitties and one who "sure had spunk," it would be madness to attempt to return across that. These big men, big physically and big in tenderness and sympathy, usually "took the bit in their mouths and got whatever they went for," and with pretty smart directness, too. But they were shy, their nerve forsaking them entirely, when it came to tackling a woman on her own stamping ground, and that woman the very capable provider of their "three square per." Why she had taken this obstinate caprice and unreasonable dislike they did not try to conjecture. It was beyond male understanding and they lovingly alluded to her as the "one and original Chinese puzzle." They said "women is queer" with that long-suffering tolerance which the male human accords the vagaries of the female. [15] The rangeman is nothing if he lacks that one remarkably comfortable trait of adaptability, and so, although they were not "stuck on the job" of removing the cat, they were forced by virtue of their very large necessity not to get into a "mix-up," by reason of the woman's crabbed temper and strange antagonism. So two volunteer martyrs, boiling, seething volcanoes inside, shamedly and reluctantly took up the basket, holding it as gingerly as if it were a case of eggs instead of a case of a mother and her harvest of shame, and dismally started for the ferry. After crossing the river they "pulled their freight" on the trail a mile farther back inland, which led upwards into a wide broad meadow and to the home of a friendly ranch-boss. The buxom wife welcomed their unexpected arrival and the "family" with open arms, telling them that she had long been wanting a younger breed of cats to take the place of "old Tom," now getting lazy and "no 'count," and that she felt flattered that these faithful friends had selected this ranch as the home for their pet. The men fixed a nice warm bed in the sanctuary of a vacant manger in one of the corrals, counted out the infants and found them all O. K., and then tried to coax the cat to nestle down and mother them. But she would not, merely crouching over them instead, in an anxious sort of way with her ears perked inquiringly forward, in an attitude of miserable bewilderment. The outcome of her "happy surprise" had been a crushing blow, but one which would wake [16] within her such a marvelous spirit of determination and endurance as to render her distinguished among cats. The second "happy surprise" she was to unfold for their entertainment was one little anticipated and one that would take the breath from even these hardened men. As they turned finally to leave her she gave a long agonized mew that was so like a human call of utter desolation, and which caused such queer fluttering thumps in the men's hearts, that they went back to console her, if possible, and to tuck the babies all in again, with the caution to lie still and be good. "Now look here, Cat, y'u don't want to take it to heart like this! Y'u've been treated low down and it's a darned shame, but there's no use getting all fussed up over it. Y'u can bank on yere pards making things pretty mean and sassy for that 'old porkypine.' She's sure in fer sorrow! The rats and mice will do things, something scandalous, in that old pantry of hern. Now, go by-low, and take good care of the babies till we come again." Waving her a sorrowful "ta-ta" with their hands, they at last left her, to return by way of the ferry, singing as they went, in their mellow cowboy cadence, an old Scotch folk-lore song which they thought quite appropriate to the occasion and soothing to the mother: <div class="poetry-container"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> There was an old cat, and a black cat, too, That had so many children, she didn't know what to do. To save them from fighting and scratching and bawling, She pinned them all up by the ears when out calling. </div> </div></div> [17] Little they suspected that the echo of the thrilling tenderness in their voices as they chanted this low refrain, growing fainter and fainter as they disappeared down the hill, was stirring an impulse in her thumping heart, which when mature, would work out into so wise and cunning a scheme as to render their deliberate, well-planned human precautions as naught. Down deep beneath the apparently indifferent nature of every animal quivers an intense human love of home that glows with a steady flame as long as life lasts. It is God's own gift to the animals and in the heart of this little exile it was a passion that had grown into an intense determination for that one bit of earth from which she had been torn, and the only place in all the world that seemed good to her. This divine longing for her old quarters was a vibrant thrill, thumping, thumping continually, like a trip-hammer in her homesick breast, and already daring the best and bravest in her nature to dangers appalling to a much bigger and bolder beastie. There was no outcry and no appeal for help in the desolate hours she must have spent in meditating on the venturesome risk of this dumb challenge, but deep down in that undiscovered country of the cat's outraged loyalty, there must have been something powerfully impelling to have given her the daring to undertake so desperate and venturesome a deed. In the velvet dusk of a night, not long afterward, a solitary figure, lean, black, and small, might have been seen, trotting at a steady [18] pace with a purposeful air that surely meant business, carefully picking her way among the weeds and undergrowth and making straight for the cottonwoods and willows that grew along the bank of the river. The determined form was steady of nerve, carrying her head high, and in her mouth a limp, nerveless black bundle of fur. When she reached the brink of the swift-flowing, trackless water, there was a quivering pause, as if she were perhaps weighing the chances of life and death; but only for an instant, for immediately there was a plunk and she sank right down into the whirl of the dreadful blackness and then—silence. Holding her burden high in her mouth, safe and dry, she soon dragged her wet and heavy body up the bank on the opposite shore, and obeying the sure instinct of her useful little nose set her face right for the old place in the kitchen cabin which was the cherished spot of her determined desire. She placed this smallest and least pretty of her brood in the old nest that had been so rudely despoiled, but without waiting to comfort or even to warm the wee mite, turned her face resolutely toward the return journey. There was no time to stop, as ten times more she must fight the good fight and battle with the cold and danger of the awful and tedious transit. The gray dawn was just breaking by the time the intrepid little mother, utterly exhausted, lay beside her six babies in her old homey bed, a mute reproach to the caprice or hasty anger that had made this cruel test necessary. The six sources [19] of all her trouble were tugging hungrily at her breasts, looking as innocent and harmless as downy puffs, having already been licked and groomed into tidiness by their forgiving mother. The housekeeper's gasp of astonishment changed into a cry of disbelief when she came into the cabin and found the family so snugly settled in their old quarters. Surely "the boys" had deceived her in regard to having taken the cat across the river, or how could this marvel be? The round, fixed and troubled eyes of the cat looked questioningly and bravely up into her enemy's startled face while her fate hung in the balance, with a courage that feared but did not flinch, and there could be no mistaking their half-defiant plea this time. It would, indeed, have been a heart of steel not to have been moved by the pity of it, as the frail bit of motherhood looked from the coldly inquiring eyes bending above her, to the collection at her breasts, with a tenderness and pride that would have shamed a human mother. Evidently the milk of human kindness had not all dried up in the rough woman's motherly breast in rubbing all these years against the sharp edges of Western ranch life and she was at last touched in a vulnerable spot, for the flush of anger faded from her irate face, and the hand so threateningly raised fell in a half-gentle pat on the small mother so bravely awaiting her decision. Afterward when the full significance of what she had seen there had filtered to her understanding and she knew the story of the cat's valiant [20] struggle with death and the marvelous feat of her perilous journey just to "be home" and with those she had "loved and lost a while," herself among the rest, her face softened and the first real smile she had shown for years beamed on her face, chasing the old hardened lines to the jumping-off point. Even the hearts of these big bluff cowmen quailed in contemplating the Spartan nerve this helpless young mother had shown in making that piteous journey, back and forth in the lonely silence of the black night, mindful of each and every one of those precious babies. This was just a plain, common everyday cat, but one with an extraordinary calm determination and a stout heart overflowing with two sacred and human attributes, mother-love and home-love. She had paid the price, fearlessly and pluckily, to ease these human aches in her breast, a price the agony of which perhaps we have no way of measuring, but one from which we know she would have shrunk in horror under ordinary circumstances. This small animal of no pretensions whatever, man&oelig;uvered and fought her successful battle alone, daring even to challenge a bitter enemy, and gained not only the home that she had insisted upon keeping, but in the end, by a strange caprice of fortune, the far greater and unexpected compensation of finding a warm soft spot in a heart supposed to be invulnerable. It was not necessary, when the men came in to breakfast, for each to deny any conspiracy in the cat's home-coming. Wet, weary and cold, [21] the cat told her own story. That their astonishment was genuine, no one could doubt, for they were struck dumb as they stared blankly at the "monster," though their beaming faces could not hide the cheery welcome they gave her in spite of being unable to utter it. They were evidently "plumb locoed" for even the boldest and most reckless of them, knowing what the mother must have been through, could not look unmoved on this miracle of miracles—not one kitling missing of the many, and each one meaning a trip across the dark, swirling current. Emitting sonorous and somewhat profane ejaculations, but decidedly to the point, they "sort'a" laughed and shrugged their shoulders, evidently unable to find any language polite enough to express their sentiments on the subject and perhaps it dimly occurred to them that it might be better not to express them anyway. But these rough diamonds were always sure to come out strongest under hardest conditions, so one of them, in quick kindliness, to relieve the rather awkward strain of the situation, "made good" by exclaiming with shame-faced tenderness: "The trouble with cats is, y'u can't never tell what they know and what they don't, nor what darned foolish audasus ideas they got tucked away in their measly carcasses." There was no use arguing with the warlike "missus," although they surely felt there was argument "a plenty" on their side and chafed at the mandates of their more polite diplomacy, but swallowed their wrath in silent indignation, as being the better part of valor, too happy in [22] the strange turn of affairs to parley over it. As Larry said, "There ain't no depending on females," and surprises await you at every turn. However, a woman is never so humble as when proven biased in judgment or instinct, and whatever their former differences may have been, the hour of surrender on this woman's part showed that deep down inside she was made of the proper stuff, and that it was not hardness of heart but the hardness of her life that had given her this rough exterior. This strange tenderness that pity had been able to awaken in the woman's heart had been dormant all these lonely years and was probably not intended for a cat at all, but for something dearer and sweeter; still, in lieu of its natural vent, it was decreed it should be lavished on this nice little comfortable substitute. Thus one tiny flash of love-light transformed completely her disagreeable bearing and declared for an everlasting friendship between the large woman of the large ranch and the small cat. Apparently there was some secret understanding between them, for it was a turning point and the beginning of a new era in the life of each. Hereafter the earth and the fulness thereof seemed to be the cat's. However the victory she had won sat very modestly on the unpresuming diplomat who humbly took up her duties just where she had left them off, and in spare moments tried to show her gladness in being safe at home and in good fellowship, by opening and shutting her small claws ecstatically and purring like a small drum. [23] There was no public display on the woman's part of this wonderful burst of tenderness in her heart, for she would have been ashamed to show how good it felt to be human, but the lesson had "took" and evidently "took hard," for it bore fruit in a wonderful moderation in her tyrannous rule and even a redemption of her looks. The old woebegone lines in her face, which her own hardness had traced there, fast disappeared, and she was transformed into a living woman, one who felt good and warm inside and showed it in her attitude toward all. After all, love is the only miracle, and hearts are the same the world over, and perhaps it was God's timely economy that only a poor little waif of a homesick cat should have lived and suffered just to be the angel to make the whole world new for this bitter woman-heart. In graciously showing this entirely unexpected softness, and a new-born protecting interest in the cat, the woman brought to herself the love of many, and basking in its radiance was like being raised from the dead, opening up as it did a better understanding with all in a sort of friendly comradeship. Her manner toward the "little black mascot," as the cat was now called, was at all times sociable and intimate, although to have let her or the family forget for one moment that discipline was her prerogative, would have been to betray the pose of her service of years among them. On the morning of the cat's return she merely squared matters with her own conscience by taking her medicine in so far as to confess her miserable [24] blunder by throwing out her hands in a sort of helpless gesture and bravely assuming the role of Destiny by issuing a final mandate: "She's had enough, and she's going to stay right here." Then she shut her lips ominously tight together as if ignoring the possibility of any further discussion on the subject, which hint was gladly heeded by these alert young men who were surely "onto their job." Larry said, there was even no "back talk" and no "crowing, merely a little snicker," but even that not too noticeable, as they gazed at each other in helpless, bashful awkwardness, waiting for someone to be bold and brave enough to "get busy" so that they could all "get out o' sight." At last, one care-free, happy young lad, with a little meaning twinkle in his blue eyes, absolutely unable to restrain his hilarious approval any longer, impulsively laid his hand on the widow's very generously upholstered shoulder in passing, and said confidentially in a hoarse whisper: "Thems the kind of sentiments, and y'u're sure some lady! And she's a great small cat and will sing y'u to sleep o' nights." A joyful grin spread over the whole bunch as they rather sheepishly made their way to the door and bolted outside, heaving great sighs of relief as they struck the freedom of the outer air. "And the best of it all," explained Larry, smiling broadly; "h'it's all true, cross my heart if it tain't, and the lady took her medicine good and proper and landed kerchunk on her feet all right." And throwing me a brief half-nod of youthful friendliness he was off. 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