“I milked her more’n two hours ago, while you was cleaning your rifle,” said his wife.

“That so?” replied the man.  “Where’s the milk?”

The woman looked around a little.  “Reckon the dogs or the young Uns must ‘a’ swallered it.  ’Tain’t in sight, nohow.”

“Oh, we can milk ’er again!” exclaimed the man.  “Old Spot sometimes comes down heavier on the second or third milking than she does on the first.”

He took a gourd from a shelf, and told us to “come on;” and started out.  He wore a big felt hat, but no coat, and he was barefooted.  Just outside the door stood a bedstead and two or three chairs.  “We move ’em out in the daytime to make more room,” explained the man.  The rain was still pouring down.  The man took our lantern and began looking for the cow.  He soon found her, and while I held the lantern, and Ollie our jug, he went down on his knees beside the cow and began to milk with one hand, holding the gourd in the other.  The cow stood perfectly still, as if it was no new thing to be milked the second time.  We had on rubber coats, but the man was without protection, and as he sat very near the cow a considerable stream ran off of her hip-bone and down the back of his neck.  When the gourd was full he poured it in our jug, and at my offering to pay for it he was almost insulted.  “Not a cent, not a cent!” he exclaimed.  “Al’ays glad to ’commodate a neighbor.  Good-night; coming down in the morning to swap hosses with you.”

He went back to the house, and we started for the wagon.

“He wouldn’t have got quite so wet if he hadn’t kept so close to the cow,” said Ollie, as we walked along.

“What he needs,” said I, “are eave-troughs on his cow.”

V:  ACROSS THE NIOBRARA

The next morning dawned fair.  We were awakened by Old Blacky kicking the side of the wagon-box with both hind-feet.

“If that man with the ever-blooming cow comes down,” said Jack, “I’ll swap him Old Blacky.”

Just then we heard a loud “Hello!” and, looking out, we found the man leading a small yellow pony.

“I just ’lowed I’d come down and let you fellers make something out of me on a hoss-trade,” said the man.

“Well,” answered Jack, “we’re willing to swap that black horse over there.  He’s a splendid animal.”

“Isn’t he rather much on the kick?” the man asked.  “He does kick a little,” admitted Jack, “but only for exercise.  He wouldn’t hurt a fly.  But he is so high-lifed that he has to kick to ease his nerves once in a while.”

“Thought I seen him whaling away at your wagon,” returned the man.  “Couldn’t have him round my place, ’cause my house ain’t very steady, and I reckon he’d have it kicked all to flinders inside of a week.”

He talked for some time, but finally went off when he found that Jack was not willing to part with any horse except Old Blacky.