ner 'er? I
tell 'e, women 'ave to 'ave a master, and no man better tackle that job
until 'e can be sure 'e can make 'er walk the chalk-line."

"But I don't want her to walk any line; I just want her to speak to
me."

"Dang me if I don't believe you are locoed. Why, she's got 'e throwed
hand 'og-tied now. What d'e want to make it any worse for?"

They talked for a long time and the Englishman continued to have
trouble with his _h_'s; but at last Johnny was encouraged to "corner
'er" next morning before they left for their ranch.

We expected to be astir early anyway, and our curiosity impelled us to
see the outcome of the friend's counsel, so we were almost the first in
the dining-room next morning. A rather pretty girl was busy arranging
the tables, and soon a boyish-looking fellow, wearing great bat-wing
chaps, came in and stood warming himself at the stove.

I knew at once it was Johnny, and I saw "'Attie" blush. The very
indifference with which she treated him argued well for his cause, but
of course he didn't know that. So when she passed by him and her skirt
caught on his big spurs they both stooped at once to unfasten it; their
heads hit together with such a bump that the ice was broken, although
he seemed to think it was her skull. I am sure there ought to be a thaw
after all his apologies. After breakfast Mrs. O'Shaughnessy went out to
see her friend Cormac O'Toole. He was the only person in town we could
hope to get a team from with which to continue our journey. This is a
hard country on horses at best, and at this time of the year
particularly so; few will let their teams go out at any price, but Mrs.
O'Shaughnessy had hopes, and she is so persuasive that I felt no one
could resist her. There was a drummer at breakfast who kept "cussing"
the country. He had tried to get a conveyance and had failed; so the
cold, the snow, the people, and everything else disgusted him.

Soon Mrs. O'Shaughnessy returned, and as the drummer was trying to get
out to E----, and that was our destination also, she made her way
toward him, intending to invite him to ride with us. She wore over her
best clothes an old coat that had once belonged to some one of her men
friends. It had once been bearskin, but was now more _bare_ skin, so
her appearance was against her; she looked like something with the
mange. So Mr. Drummer did not wait to hear what she was going to say
but at once exclaimed, "No, madam, I cannot let you ride out