him as he hurried about with the short, uncertain
steps of hospitable old age.

"By gum, Mosey, I'd marry a grass-widow with a second-hand family before
I'd do my own cooking."

The young fellow gave a self-conscious laugh that made the old man
glance at him from under his weather-beaten straw hat.

"Your mind seems to run on marryin'," he said; "guess you're hungry. Set
up and have some breakfast."

The visitor drew up a wooden chair, and the old man poured two cups of
black coffee from the smoke-begrimed coffee-pot and returned it to the
stove. Then he took off his hat and seated himself opposite his guest.
The latter stirred three heaping teaspoonfuls of sugar into his cup,
muddied the resulting syrup with condensed milk, and drank it with the
relish of abnormal health.

"I tell you what, Mosey," he said, reaching for a slice of bacon and
dripping the grease across the table, "there ain't any flies on the
women when it comes to housekeeping. Now, a woman would turn on the
soapsuds and float you clean out of this house; then she'd mop up, and
put scalloped noospapers on all the shelves, and little white aprons on
the windows, and pillow-shams on your bunk, and she'd work a doily for
you to lay your six-shooter on, with 'God bless our home' in the corner
of it; and she'd make you so comfortable you wouldn't know what to do
with yourself."

"I'm comfortable enough by myself," said the old man uneasily. "When you
work for yourself, you know who's boss."

"Naw, you don't, Mosey, not by a long shot; you don't know whether
you're boss or the cookin'. I tried bachin' once"--the speaker made a
grimace of reminiscent disgust; "the taste hasn't gone out of my mouth
yet. You're a pretty fair cook, Mosey, but you'd ought to see my girl's
biscuits; she makes 'em so light she has to put a napkin over 'em to
keep 'em from floating around like feathers. Fact!" He reached over and
speared a slice of bread with his fork. "If I keep this job on the
trail, maybe you'll have a chance to sample them biscuits. I'm goin' to
send East for that girl."

"Where you goin' to live?"

"Well, I didn't know but we could rent this ranch and board you, Mosey.
Seems to me you ought to retire. It ain't human to live this way. If you
was to die here all by yourself, you'd regret it. Well, I must toddle."

The visitor stood a moment on the step, sweeping the valley with his
fresh young glance; then he set his hat on the back of his head and wen