ood as the States."

"States!" cried Dan Anderson. "We've got a state of our own, or did
have, right here, the Free State of Heart's Desire. But it ain't good
enough for us. We want to hitch our little wagon to the star of
progress. I reckon we oughtn't to holler if the star travels some
fast. It was ours, the Free State of Heart's Desire! And we--well--"

"Well," said Curly, ruminatingly, "I don't see as ole Carrizo is
frettin' any about these here things." He glanced up at the big
mountain whose shadow lay athwart the valley. Dan Anderson gazed
thither as well. McKinney sat looking quietly up the street.

"No use frettin' about it, anyhow," said he, in his matter-of-fact way.
"And as to Tom Osby, fellers, I'll bet a plug of tobacco that's him
pullin' in at the head of town right now."

"Just like I said," exclaimed Doc Tomlinson. "He's good enough
railroad for any one, and he's safe! I wonder what did he bring this
time."

What Tom Osby brought this time, besides sundry merchandise for
Whiteman the Jew, was a parrot and a pair of twins. Neither of these
specialties had ever before been seen in Heart's Desire.

"Twins!" exclaimed Dan Anderson, when the facts were divulged, "and a
parrot!"

Tom Osby, after making known the full nature of his cargo, discharged
divers boxes, bales, and other packages at the store of Whiteman the
Jew. The parrot was not disposed to wait for the close of these
formalities. From under the white cover of the wagon there came sounds
of profane speech. Tom Osby paused and filled his pipe. "Him?" said
he, jerking his head toward the cover, as he scratched a match on the
side of the wagon seat. "He's a shore peach. Talked to me all the way
from Vegas down."

"Quork!" said the parrot. "Look out! Look out! Brrrrrrrr--awk--awk!
Quork!"

"I told you so," said Tom.

"Oh, dang it, I'm tired!" continued the bird.

"This," remarked Dan Anderson, "seems to be a cultivated gentleman.
But how about the twins? Where are they? And might we--er--ask whose
are they?"

"Them?" said Tom. "Why, they're for Curly. They're asleep down under
the seat here. Now, between the parrot and them twins, my trip down
ain't been any lonesome to speak of."

All eyes were turned on Curly, the newly wedded cow puncher, who
blushed a bright brick red to the roots of his hair. "Wh--where did
they come from?" stammered he.

"I presume, Curly," said Dan Anderson, gravely, "like enough the