lize that the sky is blue? If no
little misunderstandings had risen above our horizon, would Jesse and I
have realized our wedded happiness? How should I know when I read his
pocket diary, what was meant by "one night out. Took Matilda," or
"Matilda and Fussy to-night," or "marched with Harem!" Matilda and
Fussy if you please, are blankets, and the Harem is his winter camp
equipment.

What would you think if you found this in a book?

[Illustration]

He says it means, "Eating-house woman chasing--Jesse galloping--home
dead finish."

And some of it is worse!

I dare not accuse my dear man of being narrow-minded. I have no doubt
that he is quite justified in his intense antipathy to niggers, dagos,
and chinks--indeed, he will not allow my Chinese servant on the ranch.
But if I wished to uncork a choice vintage of stories, I alluded to his
prejudice against the word "grizzly" as applied to his pet bear.

"Now that's whar yo're dead wrong." He threw a log of cedar upon our
camp altar, making fresh incense to the wild gods. "The landlord's a
silver-tip, fat as butter. Down in the low country, whar feed is mean,
and Britishers around, the b'ars is poor, and called grizzlies. I'd be
shamed to have a grizzly on my ranch. Come to think, though, Kate, the
landlord was a sure-enough grizzly three years back. He'd had
misfortunes."

"Tell me." As he stirred the fire, gathering his thoughts, I watched the
cedar sparks, a very torchlight procession of fairies flowing upward
into the darkness overhead.

"Wall, you see, he and the landlady was always around same as you and
me, but not together. No. Being respectable b'ars they'd feed at
opposite ends of the pasture."

"But don't the married couples live together?"

"None. They feels it ain't quite modest to make a show of their
marriage. You see, Kate, after all, these b'ars is not like us but sort
of foreigners. Mother gets kind of secluded when there's cubs, 'cause
father's so careless and eats 'em."

"How disgusting!"

"I dunno. Time I speak of, their three young lady b'ars was married
somewheres up in the black pines, whar it takes say fifty square miles
to feed one silver-tip--and no tourists to help out in times of famine.
That country was gettin' over-stocked, with a high protective tariff
agin canyon b'ars.

"And here's the landlady down on our ranch, chuck full of fiscal
theories. 'B'ars is good,' says she, 'the more cubs the merrier,' says
she, 'let's be fr