ladies of this community.
Rather, being a cattle-raising country, it was a thing to be expected
at any time in spring or fall; and when Claxton Road did enumerate its
full quota of husbands, fathers, and brothers, many of them were liable
to be absent from Chautauqua. Always with good excuse, however. One
would be getting ready for a trip to the ranch; another would have to
stay at home to instruct his foreman; another would have to sit up with
a costly bull that was going through the rigors of acclimation; and on
more than one occasion it was the very man who was being depended upon
to tell them all about civil war or civil government who would have to
be excused by his wife for some such reason, upon which there would be
a chatter of regret and the meeting would fall into a conference upon
matters in general. While the gentlemen would "expatiate and confer"
with one another as to what breeding would produce the most wrinkles on
a sheep's back (thus giving the greatest wool-bearing surface), the
ladies would devise new wrinkles to make use of it. And usually the
ones who produced the raw material would be entirely through with their
plans while yet the consumers were settling fine points with regard to
the finished product. In this matter of higher culture, the true bent
of masculine nature was likely to betray itself in absence. But the
present scarcity of man may be said to have been somewhat above the
average.

For some distance the ladies went forward without saying a word. A
spell of utter silence had fallen upon the party. Then Mrs. Wright
spoke.

"Statia."

"Yes."

"Do you remember what we studied about gravity?"

"Why, certainly. Every certain number of feet a thing falls it goes
twice as fast."

"Well, I have made a discovery just as good as Sir Isaac Newton's.
Every foot you carry a rock it gets twice as heavy."

Some one among them dropped her burden; instantly they all let go. The
boulders struck the road with almost as simultaneous a thump as when
the drill-sergeant calls out "Ground arms."

"Oh! I 'm nearly dead," said Mrs. Norton.

"So 'm I," gasped Mrs. Dix, sinking down on the roadside grass.

"O-h-h-h!" gasped Mrs. Plympton.

The next minute or two was devoted to breathing.

"Why did n't you _say_ you were nearly dead?" demanded Mrs. Harmon,
when she had somewhat recovered.

"Why did n't _you_ say something?" replied Mrs. Dix.

"Why did n't we all say something?" inquired