be got in
from Madeline--them Bolshevik ain't gathered more'n two thirds of 'em;
and there's more to come in from over Horse Fly Mountain way, and still
another bunch from out of the Sheep Creek country--the busiest month in a
bad year, when I needed every man, woman, and child to be had, and here
comes Homer, the mush-head, taking two days off!

"Yes'm, Mis' Pettengill; I just got to take time off to go down to Red
Gap. It's a matter of life and death. Yes'm; it is. No'm; I wouldn't dast
send any one, and Minna agrees I'm the only one to go--" Shucks!

The lady built a cigarette and, after lighting it, turned back to scan
the mesa we had descended. The cattle now crowded down the narrow way
into the valley, their dust mounting in a high, slow cloud.

"Call yourself a cowman, do you?" she demanded of the absent Homer.
"Huh!" Then we rode on.

"What was the matter of life and death?" I asked.

Ma Pettengill expelled cigarette smoke venomously from inflated nostrils
like a tired dragon.

"The matter of life and death was that he had to get two teething rings
for the twins."

"Twins!"

"Oh, the valley got it's final laugh at Homer! Twins, sure! Most of us
laughed heartily, though there was mothers that said it was God's
judgment on the couple. Of course Homer and Minna ain't took it that way.
They took it more like they had been selected out of the whole world as a
couple worthy to have a blessed miracle happen to 'em. There might of
been single babies born now and then to common folks, but never a case
of twins--and twins like these! Marvels of strength and beauty, having to
be guarded day and night against colic and kidnappers.

"They had 'em down to the post office at Kulanche the other day showing
'em off, each one in a red shawl; and sneering at people with only one.
And this imbecile Homer says to me:

"'Of course it can't be hoped,' he says, 'that this great world war will
last that long; but if it could last till these boys was in shape to
fight I bet it wouldn't last much after that. Yes, sir; little Roosevelt
and Pershing would soon put an end to that scrap!'

"And now they're teething and got to have rubber rings. And no, he
couldn't send any one down for 'em; and he couldn't order 'em by mail
either, because they got to be just the right kind.

"'Poor little Pershing is right feverish with his gums,' says Homer, 'but
little Roosevelt has got a front one through already. He bit my thumb
yesterday