he
cattlemen claimed they wouldn't 'low no sheep in the hill country.
They warned him an' pestered him a spell, an' then they jest up an'
druv him off--thet Vil Holland wus into hit, an' some more."

"Who is this Vil Holland you speak of, and why did he want to drive
off the sheep?"

"Oh, he's a cowpuncher--they say they hain't a better cowpuncher in
Montany, when he'll work. But he won't work only when he takes a
notion--'druther hang around the hills an' prospeck. He hain't never
made no strike, but he allus aims to, like all the rest. Ef he'd
settle down, he could draw his forty dollars a month the year 'round,
'stead of which, he works on the round-up, an' gits him a stake, an'
then quits an' strikes out fer the hills."

"I couldn't think of occupying your cabin without paying for it. How
much will you rent it to me for?"

"'Tain't wuth nothin' at all," said Watts. "'Tain't doin' no good
settin' wher' it's at, an' yo' won't hurt hit none a-livin' in hit.
Jest move in, an' welcome."

"No, indeed! Now, you tell me, is ten dollars a month enough rent?"

"Ten dollars a month!" exclaimed Watts. "Why, we-all only got fifteen
fo' a herder an' a dog an' a band o' sheep! No, ef yo' bound to pay,
I'll take two dollars a month. We-all might be po' but we hain't no
robbers."

"I'll take it," said Patty. "And now I'll have to have a lot of things
from town--food and blankets, and furniture, and----"

"Hit's all furnished," broke in Ma Watts. "They's a bunk, an' a table,
an' a stove, an a couple o' wooden chairs."

"Oh, that's fine!" cried the girl, becoming really enthusiastic over
the prospect of having a cabin all her very own. "But, about the other
things: Mr. Watts can you haul them from town?"

Watts tugged at his beard and stared out across the hills. "Yes, mom,
I reckon I kin. Le's see, the work's a-pilin' up on me right smart."
He cast his eye skyward, where the sun shone hot from the cloudless
blue. "Hit mought rain to-morrow, an' hit moughtn't. The front ex on
the wagon needs fixin'--le's see, this here's a Wednesday. How'd next
Sunday, a week do?"

The girl stared at him in dismay. Ten days of Ma Watts's "home
cooking" loomed before her.

"Oh, couldn't you _possibly_ go before that?" she pleaded.

"Well, there's them fences. I'd orter hev' time to study 'bout how
many steeples hit's a-goin' to tak' to fix 'em. An' besides, Ferd Rowe
'lowed he wus comin' 'long some day to trade hosses an' I'd hate to