rry us here such a great deal, they keep mostly to the
plains an' the prairie country."

Saying this, the Ranger pulled up at the door of a shack lying a short
distance from the road and gave a hail. Immediately there stepped from
the door one of the largest women Wilbur had ever seen. Though her hair
was gray, and she was angular and harsh of feature, yet, standing well
over six feet and quite erect, she seemed to fit in well under the
shadow of the Sierras.

"I reckon you've some bacon, Susan?" was the Ranger's greeting as he
swung himself off his horse. Wilbur followed suit.

"There's somethin' awful would have to happen to a pile o' hogs," was
the reply, "when you came by here an' couldn't get a bite."

By this time a swarm of children had come out, and Wilbur, seeing that
the Ranger had simply resigned his horse into the hands of one of the
larger boys, did likewise and followed his guide into the house.

"I wasn't sure if I'd find you here, Susan," said the old scout when
they were seated at a simple meal. "I thought you were goin' to move
into town."

"I did," she replied. "I stayed thar jest two weeks. An' they was two
weeks o' misery. These yar towns is too crowded for me. Now, hogs, I've
been used to 'em all my life, an' I don't mind how many's around. But it
only takes a few folks to make me feel as if I was real crowded."

"Do you prefer hogs to people?" questioned Wilbur, smiling.

"Not one by one, bub, o' course," came the slow reply, "but when it
comes to a crowd o' both, I'm kind o' lost with folks. Everybody's busy
an' they don't care nothin' about you, an' it makes you-all feel no
'count. An' the noise is bewilderin'. Have you ever been in a city?"

Wilbur admitted that he had.

"Well, then," she said, "ye'll know what I mean. But out here, there's
more room, like, an' I know I'm bigger'n my hogs." Following which,
Susan launched into a long description of her favorite porkers, which
continued almost without cessation until it was time for the two to be
on the trail again.

"That's a queer woman," said Wilbur when they were in the saddle again
and out of hearing of the shack.

"She's a good one," answered the Ranger. "Her son, by the way, is a
member o' the legislature, an' a good lawyer, an' she's made him what he
is. But she ain't the city kind."

"Not with all those children," said Wilbur. "She'd have to hire a block
to keep them all."

"Those ain't her own children," replied the Ra