Long before I had lent Gavotte a set of the Leather-Stocking Tales, which he had read aloud to Zebbie.  Together they had planned a Leather-Stocking dinner, at which should be served as many of the viands mentioned in the Tales as possible.  We stayed two days and it was one long feast.  We had venison served in half a dozen different ways.  We had antelope; we had porcupine, or hedgehog, as Pathfinder called it; and also we had beaver-tail, which he found toothsome, but which I did not.  We had grouse and sage hen.  They broke the ice and snared a lot of trout.  In their cellar they had a barrel of trout prepared exactly like mackerel, and they were more delicious than mackerel because they were finer-grained.  I had been a little disappointed in Zebbie after his return from home.  It seemed to me that Pauline had spoiled him.  I guess I was jealous.  This time he was the same little old Zebbie I had first seen.  He seemed to thoroughly enjoy our visit, and I am sure we each had the time of our lives.  We made it home without mishap the same day we started, all of us sure life held something new and enjoyable after all.

If nothing happens there are some more good times in store for me this summer.  Gavotte once worked under Professor Marsden when he was out here getting fossils for the Smithsonian Institution, and he is very interesting to listen to.  He has invited us to go with him out to the Bad-Land hills in the summer to search for fossils.  The hills are only a few miles from here and I look forward to a splendid time.

XVI

THE HORSE-THIEVES

     [No date.]

DEAR MRS. CONEY,—­

...  I am so afraid that you will get an overdose of culture from your visit to the Hub and am sending you an antidote of our sage, sand, and sunshine.

Mrs. Louderer had come over to see our boy.  Together we had prepared supper and were waiting for Clyde, who had gone to the post-office.  Soon he came, and after the usual friendly wrangling between him and Mrs. Louderer we had supper.  Then they began their inevitable game of cribbage, while I sat near the fire with Baby on my lap.  Clyde was telling us of a raid on a ranch about seventy-five miles away, in which the thieves had driven off thirty head of fine horses.  There were only two of the thieves, and the sheriff with a large posse was pursuing them and forcing every man they came across into the chase, and a regular man-hunt was on.  It was interesting only because one of the thieves was a noted outlaw then out on parole and known to be desperate.  We were in no way alarmed; the trouble was all in the next county, and somehow that always seems so far away.  We knew if the men ever came together there would be a pitched battle, with bloodshed and death, but there seemed little chance that the sheriff would ever overtake the men.