rl spoke significantly, and Seth glanced round at her in surprise.

"I know," he observed.

"Do you think there is anything--moving? Oh, look, Seth, there's a lovely
jack-rabbit." Rosebud pointed ahead. A large jack-rabbit was loping slowly
out of the way of the buckboard. Seth leant forward with unnecessary
interest, and so was saved a direct answer to the girl's question.

CHAPTER X

SETH ATTEMPTS TO WRITE A LETTER

It is not usually a remarkable event in one's life, the writing of a
letter. In these days of telephone, however, it soon will be. In Seth's
case it nearly was so, but for a different reason. Seth could write, even
as he could read. But he was not handy at either. He abominated writing,
and preferred to read only that which Nature held out for his perusal.
However, after some days of deep consideration, he had decided to write a
letter. And, with characteristic thoroughness, he intended it to be very
long, and very explicit.

After supper one evening, when Rube had gone out for his evening smoke,
and that final prowl round necessary to see that all was prepared for the
morrow's work, and the stock comfortable for the night, and Ma Sampson and
Rosebud were busy washing up, and, in their department, also seeing things
straight for the night, Seth betook himself to the parlor, that haven of
modest comfort and horsehair, patchwork rugs and many ornaments, earthen
floor and low ceiling, and prepared for his task. He had no desire to
advertise the fact of that letter, so he selected this particular moment
when the others were occupied elsewhere.

His ink and paper were on the table before him, and his pen was poised
while he considered. Then the slow, heavy footfall of old Rube sounded
approaching through the kitchen. The scribe waited to hear him pass
up-stairs, or settle himself in an armchair in the kitchen. But the heavy
tread came on, and presently the old man's vast bulk blocked the doorway.

"Ah! Writin'?"

The deep tone was little better than a grunt.

Seth nodded, and gazed out of the window. The parlor window looked out in
the direction of the Reservation. If he intended to convey a hint it was
not taken. Old Rube had expected Seth to join him outside for their usual
smoke. That after-supper prowl had been their habit for years. He wanted
to talk to him.

"I was yarnin' with Jimmy Parker s'afternoon," said Rube.

Seth looked round.

The old man edged heavily round the table till