March 30, 1912 
FOREST AND STREAM 
399 
hurled a wordy remonstrance at the dogs, which 
promptly slunk oflf, their aggressiveness simul¬ 
taneously subsiding. 
“Can you give me a night’s shelter and some¬ 
thing to eat?” I asked) in response to the 
woman’s look of inquiry. 
For reply she made a megaphone of one hand 
and shouted: “Oh, John” while the yellow dogs 
howled in unison. 
Then out of the gloaming there came a man, 
followed by a girl of sixteen or eighteen years. 
“Want t’ git t’ put up, huh?” was his salu- 
was unaccustomed to the usages of civilization. 
I found it necessary then and there to instill 
some new ideas into the pony’s cranium, and to 
teach him the rudiments of stable etiquette. My 
efforts as a tutor seemed to interest mine host 
and his family, who watched me with keen ap¬ 
preciation. Even the yellow dogs gave noisy 
vent to their approval of the exercises which 
had a tendency to disconcert Skeezik. The pres¬ 
ence of the girl of about my own age added 
much to my embarrassment, especially as I heard 
something very like a snicker, whose author- 
settle down on the prairie when my roving de¬ 
sires were satisfied. Supper, however, cast a 
blurr upon the roseate picture. The meal con¬ 
sisted of hot, freshly-baked corn cakes with 
bacon, swimming in grease, and a great pitcher 
of sorghum molasses. To my horror, my fellow 
diners poured syrup upon the reeking bacon, 
sopped their corn dodgers in the compound and 
ate the stuff. I consoled myself with an un¬ 
greased corn cake, assuring my solicitous hostess 
that I was not hungry, a literally true statement, 
though T felt half-famished when I reached the 
tation. “Mought I ask what fetches ye inter 
these ’ere parts?” 
Once more the advice of my Kansas City 
friends stood me in good stead. They had told 
me that to avoid suspicion I should be able to 
give a valid reason for traveling around the 
country, hence I had arranged with the pub¬ 
lishers of an agricultural paper to send occas¬ 
ional sketches relating to the condition of the 
farming country, the stock, crop and financial 
outlook. I was, therefore, able to satisfy my 
prospective host’s curiosity. Inviting me to dis¬ 
mount, he ushered me into the house, while he 
attempted to lead Skeezik to the corn crib. But 
the pony had notions of his own which did not 
quite harmonize with the man’s, who soon called 
to me to help him with that “bundle o’ greased 
lightnin’.” Then it occurred to me that Skeezik 
ship I could not doubt. After the liveliest half 
hour of my life it seemed to dawn upon Skeezik 
what was wanted of him, and he walked to the 
crib as mild as a kitten. 
My entertainer’s dwelling was fashioned from 
logs, hewn on two sides and notched together 
at the ends, forming the house corners. The 
roof consisted of bundles of prairie grass laid 
shingle fashion and held in place by long poles. 
The chimney, at one end of the house, was built 
of small logs, laid in mortar and liberally daubed 
with the same material on the inside. A pile 
of blazing cottonwood logs in the great fireplace 
filled the one room with light and cheer. A 
table, several home-made settees and chairs and 
two homely beds comprised the principal furni¬ 
ture. To my enthusiastic mind the situation was 
most charming, and I mentally determined to 
house. Had I been told that I would one day 
come to eat and relish that sort of fare I would 
have paraphrased an Old Testament worthy’s 
utterance and asked: “Is thy servant a pig that 
he should eat such stuff?” 
My host had moved to Kansas from Indiana 
several years before in the fond hope of better¬ 
ing his condition, but drouth, chinch bugs and 
cyclones had operated to offset whatever ad¬ 
vantages he might have gained, until at the time 
of my visit, he was about discouraged. He was 
an intelligent, sensible man of about forty, but 
wrinkled and grizzled by hard work and worry. 
His wife was a good worker and mother appar¬ 
ently, but as regards intellect was sadly deficient. 
The girl, blessed with the more or less euphoni¬ 
ous name of Sophie Ann, had attended the coun¬ 
try schools and was able to read, write and 
