"Are you goin' to stay this time?" sez he.

"As long as it's agreeable--all around," sez I. "Is everything goin'

smooth?"

The down-hearted look came into his eyes again. "She won't speak to me," sez he.

"You don't mean to say 'at you've gone an' got married," sez I, "or that you are tryin' to?"

"I ain't such a fool," he snaps. "It's Barbie, I mean."

"How long has this been goin' on?" sez I.

"This is the fourth meal," sez he; an' he was so solemn about it that I was some inclined to snicker, but then it flashed upon me that when I left, the child was all het up over the letter she'd found in the attic, and I sobered an' sez, "Is it something 'at's goin' to be hard to smooth over?"

"I don't see how the deuce it's ever goin' to be smoothed over," sez Jabez, desperately.

"Would you feel like sort o' hintin' what it was about?" sez I.

"Well, it's about the way she acts," sez Jabez. "Confound it, Happy, she's the best gal child ever was on this earth, I reckon, but she don't want to be one, an' she won't act like it, an' she--she won't dress like it. Every time I argue with her she beats me to it, an' I'm plumb stumped. Yesterday I told her she had to take 'em off an' wear dresses, an' she did; but now she won't speak to me."

"You mean that you said that she was never to argue with you again?"

sez I, indignant.

"No, I mean that I sez she must take those confounded buckskin pants off! She's big enough now to begin to train to become a woman--not a man."

I had to grin a little, but even though it didn't seem as skeptical to me as it did to him, I saw he might be right about it. Still, I wasn't goin' to take sides without hearin' all the evidence, so I sez, "Is she healthy, Jabez?"

"Healthy?" he sez. "Why, that child could winter through without shelter an' come out in the spring kickin' up her heels an' snortin'."

"Well, that much is in her favor," sez I. "Is she good at her studies?"

"Where you been that you haven't heard about it?" sez he. "Last winter she out-ciphered an' out-spelt the schoolmarm, an' she fuddled up one o' these missionary preachers till he didn't know where he was at. She has been studyin' about all kinds o' things, an' she cornered him up on the first chapter o' Genesis. She lined out the school-marm first, an'

the schoolmarm came an' told me that she was an infidel--the' ain't no sense in havin' women teach school, Happy. You can't reason with 'em an' you can't fight with 'em an' they just about pester a body to death. I don't see how Barbie stands it."

"Well, what did you do about her bein' an infidel?" sez I.

"I couldn't do anything to the teacher except tell her what I thought of her; but next Sunday I had Barbie read to me the first chapter o'

Genesis. Did you ever read it, Happy?"

"Yes," sez I, "I read all of that book an' most of the next one. Me an'

another feller had a dispute about the Bible one time, an' he said it was the best readin' the' was, an' I said it was too dry. He read me about a feller in it named Samson, who was full o' jokes an' the strongest man ever was, I reckon, before he let that Philistine woman loco him, an' he read about another feller, just a mite of a boy, who killed a giant with a slingshot in front of an army which had made fun of him an' was all ready to give in to the giant, an' he read me some poems about mountains; an' I had to give in that the Bible was the greatest book ever was. That was up at a little ranch in Idaho, an' he was goin' to read it all to me an' explain what it meant,--he was full edicated, this feller was, an' had a voice as soft as a far-off bell, an' an eye that seemed to reach right out an' shake hands with ya,--but one day when I was away a posse surprised him, an' though he potted two of 'em they finally put him out. He left me his Bible with a note in it which said that he had killed the man all right an' that he would do it again under the circ.u.mstances; but he couldn't tell a word in his own defense 'count of mixin' in a woman. We never found out a word about it, not even where the posse came from. Well, afterward I tried to read it alone; but I couldn't make any headway. For one thing, the' 's too many pedigrees to keep track of, an' the names are simply awful. I don't want to be profane nor nothin', but hanged if I think the Children of Israel was square enough to deserve all the heavenly favors they got; so I finally gave up tryin' to read it. But what about you an' Barbie?"

"Well," sez he, "I'd read the Bible clean through from cover to cover an' I never saw anything unreasonable in it, so I thought I could set Barbie right without any trouble. She read the first chapter, an' by that time I was runnin' for cover an' yellin' for help. The' ought to be something done about that book, it ain't right to try an' raise a child to be honest, an' tell 'em that they must believe the Bible, an'

then have 'em find out what the Bible really sez."

"Well, what about it?" sez I.

"Well, it sez that the' was light an' darkness an' evenin' an' mornin'

on the first day; on the third day the' was all kinds o' gra.s.s an'

herbs yieldin' seeds, an' fruit trees yieldin' fruit; but the' wasn't no sun or stars until the fourth day. Now how could you have evenings an' mornings an' gra.s.s an' fruit trees without sunshine? You know that wouldn't work, an' when she put it up to me I simply threw up my hands, an' sent Spider Kelley with the buckboard to hunt up this missionary preacher. He was long-haired an' pius, an' when I saw him I felt purty sure he could straighten it out; but he wasn't game. Barbie argued fair an' square, an' he lost his temper an' called her an infidel an' a heretic an' a nagnostic; but she pulled a lot o' books on him, an' he couldn't understand 'em an' blasphemed 'em something terrible; but he see he was whipped, an' just simply ran away. I felt mighty bad about Barbie bein' an infidel until Friar Tuck came around. You remember Friar Tuck--the one they call an Episcolopian?" Course I remembered Friar Tuck. Everybody knew him an' he was about as easy to forget as a stiff neck--though for different reasons. Preachers are about as different as other humans to begin with, but the women seem more unanimously bent on spoilin' 'em; so as a general rule I wade in purty careful when I 'm startin' an acquaintance with a strange one, but I did know that this here one was all to the right, an' his time belonged to any one who demanded it. This made him purty wearin' on hosses, an'

when one would give out on him he'd just turn it loose an' rope another 'thout makin' any preliminary about it; all the explanation a body got was just seein' a tired, stray pony eatin' gra.s.s. The first time he tried that game they gathered up a posse an' ran him down; but he pulled a Bible on 'em showin' where he got his commission from, threw a sermon into 'em 'at converted two an' made one other sign the pledge, an' that put an end to any unsolicited interference in his line o'

work. He was a big man with two right hands, an' some one gave him the name of Friar Tuck out of a book, an' he was known by it the whole country over.

I nodded my head: "Did the Friar get fainty about Barbie bein' a heretic?" sez I.

"No, he didn't," sez Jabez, "he just laughed when I told him about it, an' he an' Barbie, they wrangled over it for a long time; but he played fair. When he didn't know the answer he owned up to it, an' then he told her that the Bible was written by a lot of different men, an' that the spirit of it was inspired; but that the' wasn't any words ever invented that could describe creation; because the origin of life was a thing 'at man wasn't wise enough to comprehend, an' that all the scientific books ever written couldn't come any nearer to it than that first chapter of Genesis, which had been written ages ago when the old Earth was still in its childhood."

"How did Barbie get around this?" sez I.

"Well, she didn't have much to say; he didn't climb up on a perch an'

call her names, he just sat there by her side like they was both children together; an' then he took some of her books an' explained things she didn't understand an' pointed out things 'at other scientists didn't believe in, an' he actually said 'at he believed that after they had examined the earth all over, inside an' out with a magnifyin' gla.s.s, every last scientist the' was would be willin' to admit that it must have been created some way or another; and that we'd all be the better for the work these scientists was doin', but that she mustn't confuse the word with the spirit, for it was the spirit which giveth life. He's an A I man, Friar Tuck is; but when I offered him twice as much a year as he's gettin' to stay an' teach her, he just laughed again, an' said that I wasn't in no position to double the kind o' wages he was workin' for. I was a little put out at this, but Barbie said he was talkin' in parables."

"Was she wearin' the buckskin pants when he was here?" sez I.

"Yes, she was, an' I didn't much like the way he acted about that. At first he thought she was a boy, an' it made me hot; but he sez to me, 'Didn't G.o.d create man first?' I owned up that he did. 'Well, then,'

said he, 'let this child develop the man side of her first, so that she may have strength an' courage for all her journey.' Everything that man sez has the ring o' truth in it, an' I didn't have much of a come-back, except to say that she was overdoing it. He called Barbie over to him an' looked into her eyes an' put his big hand on her head an' afterward he sez to me, 'You needn't worry; soon enough a soul which is all woman will stand before you and ask questions which will make you long for these days back again. Give her all the time she will take.'"

"What else did he say?" sez I.

"Well, he asked me if I had ever noticed a litter of pups. I said I had, and he wanted to know if the' was much difference in the way they played. I owned up that the' wasn't. Then he looked sort o' worried an'

asked me if I had ever found any of 'em to get their s.e.x mixed up bad enough to have the tangle last through life. I had to admit that I never had, an' he laughed at me good an' proper--but his laughs never hurt. I didn't mind about her wearin' the buckskins after that so much."

"Well, then, what made you rear up about 'em yesterday?" sez I.

"I hired a new man when she was out ridin',--day before yesterday it was,--an' when she came in he thought she was a boy an' kind o' got gay, an' she panned him out; an' he cussed her an' she drew a gun on him an' made him take it back, an' he might o' taken some spite out on her before he found out she was a girl. She is too sizey now, an'

confound it, leggin's an' a short skirt ought to satisfy any female--but now she won't speak to me, an' I can't go back on my order, so I don't see how we're goin' to straighten it out."

I pertended to be mad. "Jabez," I sez, "I do wish I could come back to this ranch just once an' find it runnin' smooth. Here I come all the way from Nevada just to see it once again, an' I find the boss an' his daughter ain't on speakin' terms, an' I have to stand palaverin' for a solid hour without anything bein' asked about my appet.i.te, an' me just finishin' a twenty-mile walk."

"By George, I'm sorry!" sez Jabez. "But hang it, Happy, you ought to savvy this place well enough by this time to know 'at no human ever has to set up an' beg for food. I'm glad to see you 'cause the little girl does set a heap by you, an' you seem to have a way o' straightenin' out the kinks. While you're eatin' breakfast see if you can't think up some way to get her to talkin' again." We started to walk to the house, an'

I sez, "just what was your orders about these buckskins?"

"I told her to take 'em off at once an' throw 'em out the window, sez he.

"Did she do it?" sez I.

"She allus obeys orders when she drives me to issue 'em--but I allus get a sting out of it, some way or other. This time I issued the order at the supper table, an' she went upstairs to her room, stuffed the suit full o' pillows, stood in the window, an' screamed until me an'

the boys ran out to see what was the matter. Then she threw the figger out an' we thought she had jumped, an' I made a fool o' myself. It's playin' with fire every time you cross her, but she allus obeys orders.

Still, it's tarnation hard to be her father--not that I'd trade the job for any other in the country, at that."

I had to chuckle inward all the way to the house, an' just before we arrived to it I purt' nigh exploded. Here come a figger, heavily veiled an' wearin' a shapeless sort of a dress affair made out of a bedquilt an' draggin' behind on the ground. It walked along slow an' dignified, like some sort of a heathen ghost, an' when it came to a pebble in the path it would walk around it an' not step over, all the time holdin' a hand lookin' gla.s.s to see that her toe didn't show. I just took one side-eye at Jabez an' his face looked like a storm cloud at a picnic; but when Barbie see who I was she tore off the veil, gathered up her skirts, an' yelled, "Happy! Happy Hawkins, is it really you?"

"I'm ready to take my oath on it, madame," sez I, not crackin' a smile; "but if I might make so bold, who are you?"

"Oh, Happy, we thought you was dead," said she, with a little catch in her voice that made me wink a time or two. "Where have you been all these years, an' why didn't you come back to us?"

She stood lookin' into my eyes, half tender an' half cross, an' I couldn't help but try her out to see which would win. "I didn't know for sure that I'd be welcome," sez I.