s were read. Then, having acquired the habit, they
bought more books. Since the three hundred and three were all real
books, and since the cowboys had been previously uncorrupted of
predigested or sterilized fiction, or by "gift," "uplift" and "helpful"
books, their composite taste had become surprisingly good, and they
bought with discriminating care. Nay, more. A bookcase follows books; a
bookcase demands a house; a house needs a keeper; a housekeeper needs
everything. Hence alfalfa--houseplants--slotless tables--bankbooks. The
chain which began with yellow coupons ends with Christmas trees. In some
proudest niche in the Hall of Fame a grateful nation will yet honor that
hitherto unrecognized educator, Front de Boeuf.[A]

[Footnote A: "_Bull Durham._"]

* * * * *

Jeff pawed over the tattered yellow-backed volumes in profane
discontent. He had read them all. Another box was under the bed, behind
the first. Opening it, he saw a tangled mass of clothing, tumbled in the
bachelor manner; with the rest, a much-used football outfit--canvas
jacket, sweater, padded trousers, woolen stockings, rubber noseguard,
shinguards, ribbed shoes--all complete; for 'Gene Baird was fullback of
the El Paso eleven.

Jeff segregated the gridiron wardrobe with hasty hands. His eye
brightened; he spoke in an awed and almost reverent voice.

"I ain't mostly superstitious, but this looks like a leading. First, I'm
here; second, Copperhead's here; third, no one else is here; and, for
the final miracle, here's a costume made to my hand. Thirty-five miles.
Ten o'clock, if I hurry. H'm!

"'When first I put this uniform on'--how did that go? I'm forgetting all
my songs. Getting old, I guess."

Rejecting the heavy shoes, as unmeet for waxed floors, and the
shinguards, he rolled the rest of the uniform in his slicker and tied it
behind his saddle. Then he rubbed his chin.

"Huh! That's a true saying, too. I am getting old. Youth turns to youth.
Buck up, Jeff, you old fool! Have some pride about you and just a little
old horse-sense."

Yet he unhobbled Grasshopper, who might then be trusted to find his way
to Rainbow in about three days. He went to the corral and tossed a rope
on snorting Copperhead. "No; I won't go!" he said, as he slipped on the
bridle. "Just to uncock old Copperhead, I'll make a little horse-ride to
Hospital Springs and look through the stock." He threw on the saddle
with some difficulty--Cop