"He that tilleth his land shall be satisfied with bread; but
he that followeth vain persons is void of understanding."--_Prov. 12:11._


Widow Ames had homesteaded one hundred and sixty acres of government
land in Dry Hollow. That was a subject for a two days' gossip in the
town. There was speculation about what she wanted with a dry ravine in
the hills, and many shook their heads in condemnation. However, it set
some to thinking and moved one man, at least, to action. Jed Bolton,
the same day that he heard of it, rode up into the hills above town.
Sure enough, there was a rough shanty nearly finished; some furrows had
been plowed, and every indication of settlement was present. Mr. Bolton
bit his lip and used language which, if it did not grate on his own
ears, could not on the only other listener, his horse.

Rupert was on the roof of his shanty, and Mr. Bolton greeted him as he
rode up.

"Hello, Rupe, what're ye doin'?"

"Just finishin' my house. It looks like more rain, an' I must have the
roof good an' tight."

"You're not goin' to live here?"

"Oh, yes, part of the time."

"What's that for?"