to his wife, "was it you said our roof didn't need
mending?"

"I said it did need it a powerful sight," answered the woman,
as she put another stick of hay in the stove, and a stream of
rain-water sputtered in the fire.

"Mebby you're right," said the man. "There's enough dry spots
for the dogs and children, but when we have vis'tors somebody has
got to get wet. Reckon I oughter put on two shingles for vis'tors
to set under. You fellers will stay to supper, of course. We
'ain't got much but bacon and taters, but you're powerful
welcome."

"No," I said, "we really mustn't stop. What we wanted was to
see if we couldn't get a little milk from you."

"Well, I'll be snaked!" exclaimed the man. "That makes me
think I ain't milked the old cow yet."

"I milked her more'n two hours ago, while you was cleaning
your rifle," said his wife.

"That so?" replied the man. "Where's the milk?"

The woman looked around a little. "Reckon the dogs or the
young Uns must 'a' swallered it. 'Tain't in sight, nohow."

"Oh, we can milk 'er again!" exclaimed the man. "Old Spot
sometimes comes down heavier on the second or third milking than
she does on the first."

He took a gourd from a shelf, and told us to "come on;" and
started out. He wore a big felt hat, but no coat, and he was
barefooted. Just outside the door stood a bedstead and two or
three chairs. "We move 'em out in the daytime to make more
room," explained the man. The rain was still pouring down. The
man took our lantern and began looking for the cow. He soon found
her, and while I held the lantern, and Ollie our jug, he went
down on his knees beside the cow and began to milk with one hand,
holding the gourd in the other. The cow stood perfectly still, as
if it was no new thing to be milked the second time. We had on
rubber coats, but the man was without protection, and as he sat
very near the cow a considerable stream ran off of her hip-bone
and down the back of his neck. When the gourd was full he poured
it in our jug, and at my offering to pay for it he was almost
insulted. "Not a cent, not a cent!" he exclaimed. "Al'ays glad to
'commodate a neighbor. Good-night; coming down in the morning to
swap hosses with you."

He went back to the house, and we started for the wagon.

"He wouldn't have got quite so wet if he hadn't kept so close
to the cow," said Ollie, as we walked along.

"What he needs," said I, "are eave-troughs on his cow."