down over his pipe at the modest bunch of black fur neatly snuggled in the dust at his side, all four paws tucked out of sight, when, in Western cameraderie, I coaxed from him the story I had wondered so much about and longed to hear in detail. As he began to tell me about it in the lazy, good-natured, provincial dialect of the plains, one hand strayed caressingly to the head of the "little pard" and lingered there lovingly while he talked and smoked.

"Oh, she's just a small stray that loped in on our range, but y'u can bet ye'r life she's a winner all right and a bunch hard to beat. She's 'just cat,' but there ain't nothing nowhere purtier, and y'u couldn't go out in a whole round-up of felines and rope a gentler one, though she's grit clear through to the backbone."

The "bunch hard to beat" looked up into her friend's face with bright, inquiring eyes, understanding the love and approval in his glance if not the great distinction conferred upon her of being the bright, particular star in the story he was relating.

"Well, y'u see, it's this-a-way," explained Larry, in his pleasant drawl, removing his briar and stiffening his muscles: "Cats is mighty useful things. What would the blamed country be without them anyway?—an' it's no way reasonable that we could run this ranch without this little peacherino. She's just a soft pretty thing, but she's sure got spunk enough for a wild bull. Lordy me! we're just plumb foolish over her, and she don't step on nobody's bunions no more, y'u bet! She ain't that sort. She's so modest and quiet it beats all how good it makes y'u feel just to have her round; a sort of spiritual uplift and missionary 'home sweet home' broke gentle to the gang."

Evidently these men, really manly men, some of them as brown and wrinkled as an old leather shoe, were the little cat's sincere admirers. As I listened to the story, I stole her from the ranchman's hand and gathered her, almost reverently, in my lap, more then as a testimony to the big-heartedness and sterling human qualities of the Western cattlemen, than as the distinguished heroine of the narrative.

It seems that at the noon hour, about the middle of one April, while the men were idly loitering on the shady side of the adobe, waiting for the hour to strike which called them to work again, a dusty, fuzzy little black streak scooted in from the direction of the road and dropped all in a heap, breathless and exhausted, at their feet. The "déboo" of this miserable little stranger had been unannounced and the suddenness of this rather dramatic entrance upon the scene of the unexpected, though tiny débutante, caused quite a flutter among the men, and pipes and cigarettes were hastily laid aside in order that they might look over at close range this "feeble short horn." The bedraggled little "black streak" proved on examination to be the thinnest, most woebegone, footsore, starved and wholly exhausted black kitten ever seen, whose tired legs had been able to carry her just this far—not a step farther could she have gone. She was indeed a pitiful creature, half-dead with fear and fatigue, and in looks so painfully appealing that she waked compassion in even the stoniest heart. Evidently she had traveled far, without food or rest, as she was completely done for. Why she came, or from where, nobody could tell, but probably chased and hunted until absolutely worn out, she had in her extremity ventured into this refuge of humans, taking her chances. To the everlasting honor of these rough ranch hands, their tough bachelor hearts were touched by this helpless, sick-looking little mite of a kitten, and they decided that she was to stay and be made comfortable. Feeling half-ashamed of their compassionate impulse and in order to hide even from one another any unmanly sentiment in the matter, one said:

"H'its powerful good luck to have a black cat hit the camp! I like the color, boys, and have a hunch it'll bring us great; let's rope and brand her for our diggins."

So the "good luck" was not scatted off, but was introduced to the ranch and seemed very grateful for their soft-hearted hospitality. When she had lapped some good warm milk into her vacant stomach she gained sufficient strength to express her satisfaction with what had been "handed out to her," and showed a most beautiful willingness to stay by it.

The "hostess" of this ranch was a large, wide "widow woman," in eloquent vernacular "grass," one of those very capable, hard-working individuals whose precarious temper even when all went well with her, was never to be imposed upon. Her brisk, ponderous tread was a power, real and felt, and not to be trifled with for a moment in any mood. The boys realized that she would be "plumb discouraging" to any scheme for the adoption of this tiny waif, and knew the utter futility of trying to pull her heartstrings in any kind of sympathy for "only a cat." So they turned all their energies into the most guilty, barefaced personal coaxing and cajolery in order to get any kind of concession in her department for this additional feeder. As they expected, she was about as responsive as a Chinese Joss and as hard as a stone to any possible allurements the kitten might develop as a home-maker, and the very most they could gain from the "old grouch" was a grudging consent to just "let her stay round till some other place can be found for her."

"And her face wasn't a mite smiling or even friendly as she said it." So the poor little kitten, being only on sufferance, accepted such crusts of charity as came her way, and was mighty grateful; for she was very hungry, very weary, and good food had long been a strange thing in her small stomach. It was plain the kitten had never known anything of home or a fireside and was simply of the humble garden variety of cat. Yet she was not an outcast or a tramp by nature, for she proved very quick to fall into ways which contributed to the cosiness of the cabin kitchen, even with the scant encouragement she received. The feminine eternal heart-throb of home-making was certainly there in her breast, for just like "other folks" she took her allotted place in the corner back of the big stove and was singularly human in the snug enjoyment of the comfort of it.

THE GREAT SMALL CAT
Although the Small Stray Was
Minus All Signs of Pedigree, She Held
Her Head High
and Was Accorded the Respect and
Good Treatment Due a Lady

In the cattle country the one momentary lull in affairs is when the day's work is over and night has settled down over the lonesome miles of ranch and the men are all gathered in a circle round the open fire. In this good-fellowship under the big stars one night, they fell to discussing their little black protégée, and the permission they had to only "let her stay round." As they were almost maternally solicitous that she should have a permanent home with them, they decided that as her sponsors they were in a way responsible and had better get busy at once and attend to her serious education, laying out the details of her conduct on a straight and narrow path of duty.

Larry was the one selected to "break her gentle," and at his very first opportunity was requested to "do the decent" and to start her off with a strictly private and business tip, speaking for the whole outfit. In recalling this incident in the game, Larry's big laugh rang out until he wiped the tears away with a corner of the gay bandanna knotted about his neck.

"I took this tenderfoot aside," he said, "and gave it to her personally and straight, y'u bet. Come