e-grease, her bread, and her delicious "kuchens." Mrs.
O'Shaughnessy, with her cheery ways, her tireless friendship, and
willing, capable hands. Gavotte even, with his tidbits of game and
fish. Dear little Cora Belle came often to see me, sometimes bringing
me a little of Grandpa's latest cure, which I received on faith, for,
of course, I could not really swallow any of it. Zebbie's nephew,
Parker Carter, came out, spent the summer with him, and they have now
gone back to Yell County, leaving Gavotte in charge again.

Gavotte had a most interesting and prosperous summer. He was
commissioned by a wealthy Easterner to procure some fossils. I had had
such a confined summer that Clyde took me out to Gavotte's camp as soon
as I was able to sit up and be driven. We found him away over in the
bad lands camped in a fine little grove. He is a charming man to visit
at any time, and we found him in a particularly happy mood. He had just
begun to quarry a gigantic find; he had piles of specimens; he had
packed and shipped some rare specimens of fossil plants, but his "beeg
find" came later and he was jubilant. To dig fossils successfully
requires great care and knowledge, but it is a work in which Gavotte
excels. He is a splendid cook. I almost believe he could make a Johnny
Reb like codfish, and that night we had a delicious supper and all the
time listening to a learned discourse about prehistoric things. I
enjoyed the meal and I enjoyed the talk, but I could not sleep
peacefully for being chased in my dreams by pterodactyls, dinosaurs,
and iguanodons, besides a great many horrible creatures whose names I
have forgotten. Of course, when the ground begins to freeze and snow
comes, fossil-mining is done for until summer comes, so Gavotte tends
the critters and traps this winter. I shall not get to go to the
mountains this winter. The babies are too small, but there is always
some happy and interesting thing happening, and I shall have two
pleasures each time, my own enjoyment, and getting to tell you of
them.

XVIII

THE HOMESTEADER'S MARRIAGE AND A LITTLE FUNERAL

_December 2, 1912._

DEAR MRS. CONEY,--

Every time I get a new letter from you I get a new inspiration, and I
am always glad to hear from you.

I have often wished I might tell you all about my Clyde, but have not
because of two things. One is I could not even begin without telling
you what a good man he is, and I didn't want you to think I could d