That what with scribbling, eating, and digestion,
And proper slumber, all our days and nights

Are wholly filled. It seems an odd suggestion--
But if you do write, stop it, leave the masses,
Read me, and join the small selected classes.



The Jimmyjohn Boss


I

One day at Nampa, which is in Idaho, a ruddy old massive jovial man stood
by the Silver City stage, patting his beard with his left hand, and with
his right the shoulder of a boy who stood beside him. He had come with
the boy on the branch train from Boise, because he was a careful German
and liked to say everything twice--twice at least when it was a matter of
business. This was a matter of very particular business, and the German
had repeated himself for nineteen miles. Presently the east-bound on the
main line would arrive from Portland; then the Silver City stage would
take the boy south on his new mission, and the man would journey by the
branch train back to Boise. From Boise no one could say where he might
not go, west or east. He was a great and pervasive cattle man in Oregon,
California, and other places. Vogel and Lex--even to-day you may hear the
two ranch partners spoken of. So the veteran Vogel was now once more
going over his notions and commands to his youthful deputy during the
last precious minutes until the east-bound should arrive.