d supper. Then they began their inevitable game of
cribbage, while I sat near the fire with Baby on my lap. Clyde was
telling us of a raid on a ranch about seventy-five miles away, in which
the thieves had driven off thirty head of fine horses. There were only
two of the thieves, and the sheriff with a large posse was pursuing
them and forcing every man they came across into the chase, and a
regular man-hunt was on. It was interesting only because one of the
thieves was a noted outlaw then out on parole and known to be
desperate. We were in no way alarmed; the trouble was all in the next
county, and somehow that always seems so far away. We knew if the men
ever came together there would be a pitched battle, with bloodshed and
death, but there seemed little chance that the sheriff would ever
overtake the men.

I remember I was feeling sorry for the poor fellows with a price on
their heads,--the little pink man on my lap had softened my heart
wonderfully. Jerrine was enjoying the pictures in a paper illustrating
early days on the range, wild scenes of roping and branding. I had
remarked that I didn't believe there were any more such times, when Mrs
Louderer replied, "Dot yust shows how much it iss you do not know. You
shall come to mine house and when away you come it shall be wiser as
when you left." I had kept at home very closely all summer, and a
little trip seemed the most desirable thing I could think of,
particularly as the baby would be in no way endangered. But long ago I
learned that the quickest way to get what I want is not to want it,
outwardly, at least. So I assumed an indifference that was not very
real. The result was that next morning every one was in a hurry to get
me started,--Clyde greasing the little old wagon that looks like a twin
to Cora Belle's, and Mrs. Louderer, who thinks no baby can be properly
brought up without goose-grease, busy greasing the baby "so as he shall
not some cold take yet." Mrs. Louderer had ridden over, so her saddle
was laid in the wagon and her pony, Bismarck, was hitched in with Chub,
the laziest horse in all Wyoming. I knew Clyde could manage very well
while I should be gone, and there wasn't a worry to interfere with the
pleasure of my outing.

We jogged along right merrily, Mrs. Louderer devoting her entire
attention to trying to make Chub pull even with Bismarck, Jerrine and
myself enjoying the ever-changing views. I wish I could lay it all
before you. Summer was dep