dodging a waving slicker, and Sage-brush will declare all of the
broncos are "plumb gentle."

The men were riding out their new string to-day. As each passed,
Parenthesis flung a jibe at him. He had resumed his bread-making when
Polly rode to the wagon.

"Hello, Parenthesis!" was her greeting. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothin'. This yere housekeepin' is gettin' on my nervous system some
fearful." Parenthesis struck the dough a savage whack, and added: "I
ain't cut out for housekeepin'."

"You've been cut out all right," retorted Polly, glancing at his legs,
"whatever it's for."

Parenthesis was not abashed. "Yep, fer straddlin' a hoss," he proudly
replied, as if that were the chief end of man.

Polly, thus balked in her teasing, tried a new form of badinage.

"Say, the boys are all braggin' on your bread-makin'. Won't you give
me your receipt?"

"Good cooks," said Parenthesis, "never give away their receipts. Brings
bad luck to 'em next time."

"Aw, come now, Parenthy, tell me, an' I'll let you make my
weddin'-cake."

"Will you? an' let me put in whatever I want fer jokes on the boys?"

"Yep, everything goes."

"Oh, I'll give 'em somethin' to dream on, you can bet yer sweet life!
Soap fer Fresno's finger, clothes-pin fer Show Low's nose, bottle o'
anty-fat fer Slim. It's a swop, Miss Polly!"

"Well, out with yer great secret o' bread-makin'."

"Well, Miss Polly, I take flour, an' water, an' sourin's, an' a pinch
o' salt--"

"Flour an' water, an' sourin's, an' a pinch o' salt," repeated Polly,
totting the list off on her fingers. "Why, so do I, an' so does every
one. It must lie in the workin'. How long do you work the dough,
Parenthesis?"

"It must lie in the workin'," repeated Parenthesis solemnly. "Why, I
work it, an' work it--" he continued, with exasperating slowness.

"How long do you work it?" asked Polly impatiently.

"Till my han's look purty clean like!" said Parenthesis, holding up his
floury paws.

"Then you've got a day's work still before you!" snapped Polly, huffed
at seeing herself the victim of a chaffing that she herself had begun.
"I won't bother you any longer. So long!"

Parenthesis, however, desired to continue the conversation. "When is
this yere hitch between you and Bud comin' off?" he asked.

Polly drew herself up proudly, and, speaking assumed haughtiness,
replied: "We're figurin' on sendin' out the cards next month."

The cowboy's eyes twinkled.