nd co'te," said he. "You likely didn't hear of the new family
moved in last week. Come from Kansas."

"Then there's a girl," said I; for I was far Westerner enough to know
that all the girls ever seen west of the Pecos came from Kansas, the
same as all the baled hay and all the fresh butter. Potatoes came from
Iowa; but butter, hay, and girls came from Kansas. I asked Curly if
the head of the new family came from Leavenworth.

"'Course he did," said Curly. "And I'll bet a steer he'll be
postmaster or somethin' in a few brief moments." This in reference to
another well-known fact in natural history as observed west of the
Pecos; for it was matter of common knowledge among all Western men that
the town of Leavenworth furnished early office-holders for every new
community from the Missouri to the Pacific.

Curly continued; "This feller'll do well here, I reckon, though just
now he's broke a-plenty. But what was he goin' to do? His team
breaks down and he can't get no further. Looks like he'd just have to
stop and be postmaster or somethin' for us here for a while. Can't be
Justice of the Peace; another Kansas man's got that. As to them two
girls--man! The camp's got on its best clothes right this instant,
don't you neglect to think. Both good lookers. Youngest's a peach.
I'm goin' to marry _her_." Curly turned aggressively in his saddle
and looked me squarely in the eye, his hat pushed back from his tightly
curling red hair.

"That's all right, Curly," said I, mildly. "You have my consent. Have
you asked the girl about it yet?"

"Ain't had time yet," said he. "But you watch me."

"What's the name of the family?" I asked as we rode along together.

"Blamed if I remember exactly," replied Curly, scratching his head,
"but they're shore good folks. Old man's sort o' pious, I reckon.
Anyhow, that's what Tom Osby says. He driv along from Hocradle canon
with 'em on the road from Vegas. Said the old man helt services every
mornin' before breakfast. More services'n breakfast sometimes. Tom,
he says old Whiskers--that's our next postmaster--he sings a-plenty,
lifts up his voice exceeding. Say," said Curly, turning on me again
fiercely, "that's one reason I'd marry the girl if for nothing else.
It takes more'n a bass voice and a copy of the Holy Scriptures to make
a Merry Christmas. Why, man, say, when I think of what a time we all
are going to have,--you, and me, and Mac, and Tom Osby, and Dan
Ander