were baffled her still. "Can it
possibly change?" she wondered. It seemed to her that sometimes when she
had been looking from a rock straight down into clear sea water, this
same color had lurked in its depths. "Is it green, or is it gray?"
she asked herself, but did not turn just now to see. She kept her face
toward the landscape.

"All men are born equal," he now remarked slowly.

"Yes," she quickly answered, with a combative flash. "Well?"

"Maybe that don't include women?" he suggested.

"I think it does."

"Do yu' tell the kids so?"

"Of course I teach them what I believe!"

He pondered. "I used to have to learn about the Declaration of
Independence. I hated books and truck when I was a kid."

"But you don't any more."

"No. I cert'nly don't. But I used to get kep' in at recess for bein' so
dumb. I was most always at the tail end of the class. My brother, he'd
be head sometimes."

"Little George Taylor is my prize scholar," said Molly.

"Knows his tasks, does he?"

"Always. And Henry Dow comes next."

"Who's last?"

"Poor Bob Carmody. I spend more time on him than on all the rest put
together."

"My!" said the Virginian. "Ain't that strange!"

She looked at him, puzzled by his tone. "It's not strange when you know
Bob," she said.

"It's very strange," drawled the Virginian. "Knowin' Bob don't help it
any."

"I don't think that I understand you," said Molly, sticky.

"Well, it is mighty confusin'. George Taylor, he's your best scholar,
and poor Bob, he's your worst, and there's a lot in the middle--and you
tell me we're all born equal!"

Molly could only sit giggling in this trap he had so ingeniously laid
for her.

"I'll tell you what," pursued the cow-puncher, with slow and growing
intensity, "equality is a great big bluff. It's easy called."

"I didn't mean--" began Molly.

"Wait, and let me say what I mean." He had made an imperious gesture
with his hand. "I know a man that mostly wins at cyards. I know a man
that mostly loses. He says it is his luck. All right. Call it his luck.
I know a man that works hard and he's gettin' rich, and I know another
that works hard and is gettin' poor. He says it is his luck. All right.
Call it his luck. I look around and I see folks movin' up or movin'
down, winners or losers everywhere. All luck, of course. But since folks
can be born that different in their luck, where's your equality? No,
seh! call your failure luck, or call it laziness, wand