re" cook, who was one of the party, "but the pampered
ranch article that boasts a real stove, planted in a real kitchen, the
spoiled darling that never has to light a fire out of wet wood in the
rain.

"These unhappy Britons had every species of ill luck that could befall an
outfit, in the way of cooks; they were of every nationality, age, and sex,
and they stole, drank, quarrelled, till the outfit determined to sweep the
house clear of them and do its own cooking. Every man was to have a turn
at it for a week. There was a Scotchman, who gave them something called
'pease bannocks,' three times a day; followed by an Irishman, who
breakfasted them on potatoes and whiskey. There was an Englishman, who had
a beef slaughtered every time he fancied a tenderloin. There was a
Welshman, who sang as he cooked. There were as many different kinds of
indigestion as there were men in the outfit. They would beg to do
night-herding, anything to get them away from that ranch. Finally, when
their little tummies got so bad that their overcoats thickened, or wore
through, or whatever happens to stomachs' overcoats that are treated
unkindly, some one's maiden aunt sent him a tract saying that rice was the
salvation of the human race, as witness the Chinese. Whosever turn it was
to cook that week determined to try the old lady's prescription. Rice was
procured, about a peck, I think; and the man who was cooking, pro tem, put
the entire quantity on to boil in a huge ham-boiler, over a slow fire, as
per the directions of the maiden aunt. The rice seemed to be doing nicely,
when some one came in and said that a bunch of antelope was over on the
hills and there was a good chance to get a couple. Every man got his gun,
all but the cook, and he looked at the rice, that hadn't done a thing over
the slow fire, in a way that would melt your heart. 'Just my luck that it
should be my week to pot-wrestle when there's good hunting right at one's
front door.'

"'Oh, come on,' some one said. 'Didn't Kellett's aunt say the rice ought
to be cooked over a slow fire? Kellett, get your aunt's letter and read
the directions for cooking that rice again.'

"The cook didn't need a second invitation, and they got into their
saddles, cook and all, and went for the antelope.

"Now antelope are not like stationary wash-tubs; they move about. And when
that particular outfit arrived at the spot where those antelope were last
seen, they had moved, but the boys found tr