-I'm tellin' ye something, I'm goin' to marry the doctor--if he
wants me--and if you don't like it there's a place you can go to.
I'll not be namin' it in the presence of Nap here, for he's a good
Christian."

"And you, sir,"--she addressed the telephone again,--"I thank you for
your kind words regarding brains and looks. I hope it is a true word
you speak, for I may need both before I'm done."

The home-coming of the cows at eventime has been sung about, written
about, talked about, painted, and always it has had in it the
restfulness of evening,--the drowsy whirr of insects' wings, the
benediction of the sunset, the welcoming gladness of a happy family.
But these pictures have not been painted by those of us who have seen
the hungry cattle come in from the range when the snow covers the
grass, or the springs dry up, and under the influence of fear they
drive madly on.

All day long the range cattle, about three hundred in number had
searched the river bottom for the grass which the heavy snowfall of
the night before had covered; searched eagerly, nervously all the
while, bawling, ill-naturedly pushing and horning, blaming each other
in a perfectly human way. Disconsolately they wandered over the river
to the other bank feeling sure they would find grass there, only to
find the snow over everything, and not even a little rosebush showing
its head.

Then it was that the old cow, an acknowledged leader of the herd,
who bore the name of the "Broncho," on account of her wildness, her
glaring red eyes and her branching horns, with an angry toss of her
head to shake the water from her eyes, lifted her voice in one long,
angry, rolling bellow that seemed to startle the whole herd. It had
in it defiance, and determination. Like the leading spirit among the
leprous men who sat at the gate of Samaria, the "Broncho" gathered up
the feeling of the meeting in one long soul-stirring, racuous bawl,
which, interpreted, meant, "Why sit we here until we die?"

The primitive law of self-preservation was at work--even a cow will
not starve quietly. The grass had been scarce for days, and she had
lain down hungry each night for a week; and now, when the grass had
gone entirely, the old cow had taken her determination; she would go
home and demand her right to live. This thought surging through her
soul, gave decision to her movements. Whether the other cattle came or
not did not matter in the least--she knew what she was going to