hay a while."

"She'll out-wind us, and be right there waiting when we come back,"
objected Andy, with the wisdom gained from his brief acquaintance with
the lady. "If she's made up her mind to call on us, there's no way
under Heaven to head her off."

They halted by the bunk-house door, undecided whether to go in or to
stay out in the open.

"By golly, she don't improve _me_!" Slim asserted pettishly. "I hate
books like strychnine, and, by golly, she can't make me read 'em,
neither."

"If there's anything I do despise it's po'try," groaned Cal Emmett.

"Emerson and Browning and Shakespeare and _Gatty_," named Andy
gloomily.

Whereat Pink suddenly pushed open the door and went in as goes one who
knows exactly what he is about to do. They followed him distressfully
and silently. Pink went immediately to his bunk and began pulling off
his boots.

"I'm going to bed," he told them. "You fellows can stay up and
entertain her if yuh want to--_I_ won't!"

They caught the idea and disrobed hastily, though the evening was
young. Irish blew out the lamp and dove under the blankets just as
voices came faintly from up the hill, so that when Chip rapped a