daylight into the carkises
of a dozen Injuns. Y' see wimmin's li'ble to fool you some. When they
knows you're fixed on 'em they jest makes you hate yourself fer a
foolhead. It's in the natur' of 'em. They're most like young fillies 'fore
they're broke--I sez it wi'out disrespec'. Y' see a wummin ain't got a
roarin' time of it in this world. An' jest about when a man gets fixed on
'em is their real fancy time, an' they ain't slow to take all ther' is
comin'. An' I sez they're dead right. An' jest when you're bustin' to
tell 'em how you're feelin'--an' ain't got the savee--they're jest
bustin' to hear that same. An' that's how I got figgerin' after awhiles,
an' so I ups an' has it out squar'. Y' see," he finished, with an air of
pride which brought a smile to Seth's face, "I kind o' swep' Ma off her
feet."

The younger man had no reply to make. His mind went back to Ma's version
of Rube's courtship. Rube, thoroughly enjoying his task of rousing the
other's drooping spirits, went on, carried away by his own enthusiasm.

"Say, why has Rosie come back, boy, I'd like to know."

"She said as she couldn't endure a city no longer. She wanted the plains,
the Injuns, Ma, you, an' the farm."

"Pshaw--boy! Plains! Farm! Injuns! Ha, ha! Say, Seth, you ain't smart, not
wuth a cent. She come back 'cos she's jest bustin' to hear what you
darsen't tell her. She's come back 'cos she's a wummin, an' couldn't stay
away when you wus sick an' wounded to death. I know. I ain't bin married
fer five an' twenty year an' more wi'out gittin' to the bottom o' female
natur'--I----"

"But she didn't know I was sick, Rube."

"Eh?"

Rube stood aghast at what he had said. Seth's remark had, in his own way
of thinking, "struck him all of a heap." He realized in a flash where his
blundering had led him. He had run past himself in his enthusiasm, and
given Ma's little scheme away, and, for the moment, the enormity of his
offence robbed him of the power of speech. However, he pulled himself
together with an effort.

"Guess I wus chawin' more'n I could swaller," he said ruefully. "Ma allus
did say my head wus mostly mutton, an' I kind o' figger she has a power o'
wisdom. An' it wus a dead secret--'tween her an' me. Say, Seth, boy, you
won't give me away? Y' see Ma's mighty easy, but she's got a way wi' her,
Ma has."

The old man's distress was painfully comical. The perspiration stood out
on his rugged forehead in large beads, and his kindly eyes w