a thoughtful sort of a ranch, where everybody went about his work
quiet. I guess it was because the boys was mostly old-timers,
given to arguing about why was this and how come that. Argue!
Caesar! It was a regular debating society. Wind-river Smith
picked up a book in the old man's room that told about the Injuns
bein' Jews 'way back before the big high-water, and how one gang of
'em took to the prairie and the other gang to the bad clothes
business. Well, he and Chawley Tawmson--'member Chawley and his
tooth? And you'd have time to tail-down and burn a steer before
Chawley got the next word out--well, they got arguin' about whether
this was so, or whether it weren't so. Smithy was for the book,
havin' read it, and Chawley scorned it. The argument lasted a
month, and as neither one of 'em knew anything about an Injun,
except what you can gather from looking at him over a rifle sight,
and as the only Jew either one of 'em ever said two words to was
the one that sold Windriver a hat that melted in the first
rain-storm, and then him and Chawley went to town and made the
Hebrew eat what was left of the hat, after refunding the price, you
can imagine what a contribution to history I listened to. That's
the kind of place the Ellis ranch was, and a nice old farm she was,
too.

"I'd been working there about three months, when along come a man
that looked like old man Trouble's only son. Of all the sorrowful
faces you ever see, his was the longest and thinnest. It made any
other human countenance I ever see look like a nigger-minstrel show.

[Illustration: Made any other human countenance I ever see look
like a nigger-minstrel show.]