erior decorator. Not one of these fuzzy haired
women-in-pants, but a he-man who knows what a he-man needs. Tell him I
want that place furnished regardless of expense. I want some deep chairs
that will hit me under the knees. I want some pictures on the wall--but
_nothing out of the Eighteenth Century_--no impressionistic
landscapes--no girls dolled up in fluffy stuff. I want some pictures I
can enjoy, even if my maiden aunt can't. There you are. Tell him to go
ahead on those lines.

"In a word, Swinnerton, old top, I want to live. For about thirty years
I've _thought_, and now I know that there's nothing in it. All the
thinking in the world won't make one more blade of grass grow; put one
extra pound on the ribs of a long-horn; and in a word, thinking is the
bunk, pure and simple!"

At this point Swinnerton Loughburne staggered to the window, threw it
open, and leaned out into the cold night. After a time he had strength
enough to return to his chair and read through the rest of the epistle
without interruption.

"You wonder how I've reached the new viewpoint? Simply by seeing some
concentrated life here at the Cumberland ranch. My theories are blasted
and knocked in the head--praise God!--and I've brushed a million cobwebs
out of my brain. Chemistry? Rot! There's another sort of chemistry that
works on the inside of a man. That's what I want to study. There are
three great preliminary essentials to the study:

1st: How to box with a man.
2nd: How to talk with a girl.
3rd: How to drink old wine.

Try the three, Swinnerton; they aren't half bad. At first they may give
you a sore jaw, an aching heart, and a spinning head, but in the end
they teach you how to keep your feet and _fight!_

"This is how my eyes were opened.

"When I came out to this ranch it was hard for me to ride a horse. So
I've been studying how it should be done. Among other things, you should
keep your toes turned in, you know. And there are many other things to
learn.

"When I had mastered them one by one I went out the other day and asked
to have a horse saddled. It was done, and a lantern-jawed cowpuncher
brought out a piebald gelding with long ears and sleepy eyes. Not a
lovely beast, but a mild one. So I went into the saddle according to
theory--with some slight hesitations here and there, planted my feet in
the stirrups, and told the lantern-jawed fellow to turn loose the head
of the piebald. This was done. I shook the rein