only to knock somebody's brains out.'

"This Henry Ogden was a peculiar kind of ranchman. He wore finger-rings
and a big gold watch and careful neckties. And his face was calm, and
his nose-spectacles was kept very shiny. I saw once, in Muscogee, an
outlaw hung for murdering six men, who was a dead ringer for him. But I
knew a preacher in Arkansas that you would have taken to be his brother.
I didn't care much for him either way; what I wanted was some fellowship
and communion with holy saints or lost sinners--anything sheepless would
do.

"'Well, Saint Clair,' says he, laying down the book he was reading, 'I
guess it must be pretty lonesome for you at first. And I don't deny that
it's monotonous for me. Are you sure you corralled your sheep so they
won't stray out?'

"'They're shut up as tight as the jury of a millionaire murderer,' says
I. 'And I'll be back with them long before they'll need their trained
nurse.'

"So Ogden digs up a deck of cards, and we play casino. After five
days and nights of my sheep-camp it was like a toot on Broadway. When
I caught big casino I felt as excited as if I had made a million in
Trinity. And when H. O. loosened up a little and told the story about
the lady in the Pullman car I laughed for five minutes.

"That showed what a comparative thing life is. A man may see so much
that he'd be bored to turn his head to look at a $3,000,000 fire or
Joe Weber or the Adriatic Sea. But let him herd sheep for a spell, and
you'll see him splitting his ribs laughing at 'Curfew Shall Not Ring