"No, you needn't. Doggone it, this wading through ponds uh soft soap
has got t' stop right here. I never had t' do it when I was baching,
I notice." He essayed, with the aid of a large splinter, to scrape the
offending soap from his trousers.

"Certainly, you didn't. Bachelors never use soap," retorted Della.

"Oh, they don't, hey? That's all you know about it. They don't use
this doggoned, slimy truck, let me tell yuh. What d'yuh want, Chip?
Oh, you've got t' grin, too! Dell, why don't yuh do something fer my
head? What's your license good f er, I'd like t' know? You didn't
see Dell's license, did yuh, Chip? Go and get it an' show it to him,
Dell. It's good fer everything but gitting married--there ain't any
cure for that complaint."






CHAPTER VII.
Love and a Stomach Pump.



An electrical undercurrent of expectation pervaded the very atmosphere
of Flying U ranch. The musicians, two supercilious but undeniably
efficient young men from Great Falls, had arrived two hours before and
were being graciously entertained by the Little Doctor up at the house.
The sandwiches stood waiting, the coffee was ready for the boiling water,