poultry yard. It was sometimes marveled 

 that he did not take to the ducks, his 

 next of kin, fat and wabbly, with raucous 

 voices. It was so much easier to love 

 Mrs. Cochin, the perfection of grace and 

 beauty. She was large and stately. She 

 wore always a buff robe that flashed in 

 the sun like burnished gold. Poor Jere- 

 miah fell easily a prey to her unconscious 

 wiles and consecrated himself, body and 

 soul, to her personal attendance and pro- 

 tection. 



Jeremiah's first concern, again inside 

 the yard, was to reconnoitre for his 

 friend, the enemy. He was nowhere in 

 sight and Jeremiah turned pleadingly to 

 Mrs. Cochin. "Let us make up," he 

 urged. "Your coldness is killing me. 

 I honestly think I have not long to live." 



"Diet yourself," suggested Mrs. Co- 

 chin, her feminine intuitions connecting 

 cause and effect. "And don't be a goose." 



Mrs. Cochin went scratching in a 

 flower bed. Ignored, he followed at a 

 respectful distance, hissing at the pup 

 who ambled near, striking a cat whose 

 lithe body was poised for a spring at one 

 of the chickens, and frightening away a 

 brood of ducklings. All afternoon the 

 faithful sentinel executed his self-im- 

 posed duty, and finally followed his 

 charmer across the yard to the old 

 workshop. 



"Do not go in there," he cried, sharply. 



For answer Mrs. Cochin tripped over 

 the threshold, clucking to her chicks. 

 She flew upon the work bench, thence to 

 a rafter and settled herself as if for the 

 night. 



"What do you think I am going to do 

 with these chickens?" grumbled Jere- 

 miah, trying to arouse her maternal solic- 

 itude. "Let the rats catch them, I don't 

 care. They are not my chickens." 



Mrs. Cochin , looked down. She 

 drooped a wing and shut an eye. Her 

 attitude indicated that she would take 

 proper care of her offspring as soon as 

 their company had taken his welcome 

 leave. 



Again Jeremiah went through the 

 scene at the fence. He gabbled his vain 

 protestations. He groveled in the dust. 

 He flung his unwieldly weight against 

 the work bench and made many futile 



attempts to rise to Mrs. Cochin's su- 

 perior elevation. ^ 



"You distract, humiUate me," he 

 hissed. "Your heart is no larger than 

 your head. You may stay there. I 

 wash my feet of you," and suiting the 

 action of the word, he waddled into the 

 water trough and fluttered there. 



The black pullet drew near. She was 

 really a comely creature, Jeremiah 

 thought, and he stopped fluttering. If it 

 were not for the fatal glitter of Mrs. 

 Cochin's blonde beauty, he might learn 

 to care for demure Miss Dominie. He 

 didn't know but he could, anyway, and 

 gracefully curving his kingly neck he 

 approached her. 



"Good evening. Miss Dominie. You 

 are looking very charming." 



Miss Dominie pretended not to hear. 

 She was too young to be entirely un- 

 moved by his apparent admiration and 

 she felt vaguely sorry for him; but the 

 sun was very low and the sand man 

 had passed her twice. She was looking 

 for a spring bed on one of the low limbs 

 of the Cottonwood tree. Jeremiah fol- 

 lowed her, babbHng the story of his 

 wretched loneliness, until they unwit- 

 tingly crossed the path of his enemy, the 

 man. Jeremiah's voice sank to a whis- 

 per and he hid behind a tree. Jeremiah 

 is a goose about a good many things, but 

 he knows when to lay dead. 



The black pullot brushed against him 

 and his heart warmed — ^but she was only 

 enflight to the limb overhead. She 

 leaned forward and spoke to him, drows- 

 ily: "I am sorry, Jeremiah. It is the 

 old story and I can only advise you to get 

 used to it. Don't you give up. Remem- 

 ber, you can have anything in this world 

 you want if you keep after it until you 

 get it; that is one of the fixed laws of 

 the universe. I think you will find Mrs. 

 Cochin in the end coop now. I saw Dol- 

 lie gathering the chickens into her apron 

 and carrying Mrs. Cochin by the wing. 

 It might be well to excite her jealousy. 

 You may say to her that T have at last 

 consented to be yours. Tell her that you 

 have come to bid her a final farewell. 

 Give her back that scar she made on your 

 neck and assure her that I am a jealous 

 god and object to your even passing the 

 time of (lav with her." 



208 



