n as she discovered that she had been dragged
off to a fate she had always regarded as worse than death; but a lot of
good it done her to say them things in a voice not much better than a
whisper.

And the dreadful thing was over before she could get strength to say
anything more powerful. There she was, married to a man she thought
highly of, it's true, and had a great sympathy for in the foul wrong one
of her sex had tried to slip over on him; but a man she had never thought
of marrying. I'm telling you what she told me. And after sentence had
been pronounced she kept on saying "Why, Homer!" and "Oh, Homer!" and
"No, no, Homer!" till there was nothing to do but get some clothes out of
her trunk that she'd left down there in time to take the narrow gauge for
their wedding tour to Spokane.

The news spread over the valley next day like a brush fire in August. It
was startling! Like the newspapers say of a suicide, "No cause could be
assigned for the rash act." They was away ten days and come back to find
the whole country was again giving Homer the laugh because Mrs. Tolliver
had up and married a prosperous widower from over in Surprise Valley, and
had never brought any suit against him. It was said that even the late
Mrs. Tolliver was laughing heartily at him.

Homer didn't seem to care, and Minna certainly didn't. She was the
old-fashioned kind of wife, a kind you don't hear much of nowadays; the
kind that regards her husband as perfect, and looks up to him. She told
me about the tumultuous wedding. Neither of 'em had had time for any talk
till they got on the train. Then it come out. She says why ever did Homer
do such a monstrous thing? And Homer says:

"Well, you told me a change of Venus was the only way out for me--"

"I said a change of venue," says Minna.

"It sounded like change of Venus," says Homer, "and I knew Venus was the
god of love. And you said you was willing and I knew we was congenial,
and I was a desperate man; and so here we are!"

So she cried on his shoulder for twenty miles while he ate a box of figs.

Homer is now a solid citizen, with his money put into a place down at the
lower end of the valley, instead of lying in the bank at the mercy of
some unscrupulous woman with little ones. And here this summer, with his
own work light, he's been helping me out as riding boss; or, at least I
been lavishing money on him for that.

A fine, dependable hand, too! Here was this bunch of stock to