"Well, s'posin' he hez," said Bud. "What in thunder is cabbages fer, if
they ain't ter be et by pigs?"

"Yes, you, but not fer dose kind of pig. Maybe you might eat dem und it
vould be all right, but not der pig mit four feet."

Carl had a small garden back of the ranch house, in which he had been
raising cabbages, devoting all his spare time to them and good-naturedly
taking the joshing the boys gave him. They were of the opinion that a
cow-puncher was degrading himself by working in a garden.

"Jumpin' sand hills, he'll be takin' up knittin' when winter comes on,
an' makin' of his own socks," said Bud, in disgust.

"No, he's going in for tatting," said Ben Tremont. "He's going to make a
lot of doilies for the chairs so we won't soil the satin upholstery with
our oily hair."

As all the chairs in the living room were very plain, made of solid oak,
with bullhide seats and backs, this remark was received with laughter.

"Go aheadt!" said Carl. "Ven you ain'dt drough, let me know. I know your
own bizziness. Ven der vinter comes und I haf dot deliciousness
sauerkraut, und am eating it, und ven your mouts vater so dot you
slobber like a colt off der clover, den--ah, den, I gifs you der ha-ha,
ain'dt it? Den you see who der knitting und der tatting do, eh?"

Carl laughed at the thought of how the boys would miss the sauerkraut
which he was going to make. But now "Oof," the pet pig of the