ion of a man
who has inadvertently stepped through the plastering of the ceiling, he
was able to dissemble successfully.

Clearing his throat, the Gov'nor fixed his eyes upon "Hod" Deefendorf,
owner of the Double Cross Livery Stable, and demanded:

"Among all the voices of Nature is there a more pleasing or varied sound
than that of falling water?"

He paused as though he expected an answer, so "Hod" squirmed and
ventured weakly that he "guessed there wasn't."

The Gov'nor continued: "The gentle murmur of the brook, the noisy rumble
of rapids, the thundering roar of mighty cataracts--can you beat it?" In
a country where the school children giggled at sight of an umbrella, the
question seemed irrelevant, so this time no one replied.

"Consider the rivulet as it glints and glistens in ceaseless change, the
fairy mists of shimmering cascades, the majestic sweep of
waterfalls--has Nature any force more potent for the use of man than
falling water? No! None whatever! And I propose that we yoke these
racing tumbling forces back there in yon mountains and make them work
for us!"

The members exchanged glances--the Gov'nor was living up to their
expectations of him.

"That accomplished, I propose," the Governor declared dramatically, "to
take nitrogen from the air and sell it to the government!"

He looked triumphantly into the intent upturned faces into which had
crept a look of blankness. There were those who thought vaguely that
nitrogen was the scientific name for mosquito, while others confused it
with nitre, an excellent emergency remedy for horses.

"They've done it in Germany," he continued, "and used it in the
manufacture of high explosives. Is there any gentleman present who will
tell me that what's been done in Germany, can't be done in Wyoming?"

The applause was tumultuous when he had further elucidated and finished.
To get something out of nothing made a strong appeal to Prouty. It was
criminal for Sudds to waste his abilities in a small community. They
wondered why he did it.

Hiram Butefish, who succeeded the orator, felt a quite natural
diffidence in giving to the Club his modest suggestion, but as he talked
he warmed to his subject.

"I am convinced," declared Mr. Butefish, "that the future of Prouty lies
in fossils."

"Human?" a voice inquired ironically.

"Clams," replied Mr. Butefish with dignity. "Also fish and periwinkles.
Locked in Nature's boozem over there in the Bad Lands there's a w