ke a hobbled
pony in a stampede. They wouldn't even let her picket her ponies out in
what they call the campus, which she said was just drippin' fat with
rich grass, an' nary a hoof to graze it. Why, they even had fool
notions about havin' certain hours about goin' to bed, an' even when
you had to put your lights out.

One night she got fidgety an' nervous with the lonesomeness of it, an'
she got up about one o'clock an' fired her revolvers out the
window,--just for sport, you know, like a feller sometimes will when
he's--well, when his soul gets kind o' itchy like,--an' it purt' nigh
started a riot. She said 'at we wouldn't never believe how different
the people was down there. I reckon a university must be run a good bit
like a penitentiary. But as I said, she wasn't no quitter, an' I
reckon, takin' it all in all, she give 'em back about as good as they
sent.

Course we could see a lot o' change in her when she'd first come back,
but it seemed to slide off as the tan came on, an' by the time she left
in the fall again she'd be purty much the same old Barbie. She went
full five years, countin' the prep-school, an' I don't suppose they was
much in the way o' learnin' they didn't filter through her; but it
didn't spoil her, an' the very moment her knees clamped on a pony again
you could see that her blood was as red as ever, even if her face was
roses an' cream. My heart allus beat out of time when I knew she was
headin' back; but the very minute she gave my hand the old-time grip I
knew she was still the old-time girl, an' when she'd turn to the chums
an' say, "Girls, this is Happy," why, I was big brother to the lot, an'
before they went back I'd teach 'em ridin' till they could giggle on
hoss-back without fallin' off. They all owned up that she was the
takin'est girl at the university, and while her pals was a mighty
attractive lot, they didn't have to use any arguments to convince me it
was the truth.

She allus left me so much to do when she was away that I never felt
like leavin' through the winter; while durin' vacation time I wouldn't
have gone without bein' drove; but toward the middle of her fourth
year, me an' Bill Andrews had another little run in.

We was havin' a terrible streak of weather, an' Bill wanted to move a
herd over to the southwest corner of the ranch where the' was some
extra good bunch grass. It was a wise move all right, an' I said so;
but when he wanted me to help trail 'em, I vetoed it.