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“It mebby is, that romances comes to pass on the range when I’m thar,” remarked the Old Cattleman, meditatively, “but if so be, I never notes ’em. They shorely gets plumb by me in the night.”

The old gentleman had just thrown down a daily paper, and even as he spoke I read on the upturned page the glaring headline: “Romance in Real Life.” His recent literature was the evident cause of his reflections.

“Of course,” continued the Old Cattleman, turning for comfort to his inevitable tobacco pipe, “of course, at sech epocks as some degraded sharp takes to dealin’ double in a poker game, or the kyards begins to come two at a clatter at faro-bank, the proceedin’s frequent takes on what you-all might call a hue of romance; an’ I admits they was likely to get some hectic, myse’f. But as I states, for what you-all would brand as clean. strain romance, I ain’t recallin’ none.”

“How about those love affairs of your youth?” I ventured.

“Which I don’t deny,” replied the old gentleman, between puffs, “that back in Tennessee, as I onfolds before, I has my flower- scented days. But I don’t wed nothin’, as you-all knows, an’ even while I’m ridin’ an’ ropin’ at them young female persons, thar’s never no romance to it, onless it’s in the fact that they all escapes.

“But speakin’ of love-tangles, Old Man Enright once recounts a story; which the same shows how female fancy is rootless an’ onstable that a-way.

“‘Allers copper a female.’ says Cherokee Hall, one day, when Texas Thompson is relatin’ how his wife maltreats him, an’ rounds up a divorce from him down at Laredo. ‘Allers play ’em to lose. Nell, yere,’ goes on Cherokee, as he runs his hand over the curls of Faro Nell, who’s lookout for Cherokee, ‘Nelly, yere, is the only one I ever meets who can be depended on to come winner every trip.’

“‘Which females,’ says Old Man Enright, who’s settin’ thar at the time, ‘ an’ partic’lar, young females, is a heap frivolous, nacheral. A rainbow will stampede most of ’em. For myse’f, I’d shorely prefer to try an’ hold a bunch of five hundred ponies on a bad night, than ride herd on the heart of one lady. Between gent an’ gent that a-way, I more’n half figger the ‘ffections of a female is migratory, same as buffaloes was before they was killed, an’ sorter goes north like in the spring, an’ south ag’in in the winter.’

“‘As for me; says Texas Thompson, who’s moody touchin’ them divorce plays his wife is makin’, ‘you-alls can gamble I passes all females up. No matter how strong I holds, it looks like on the showdowns they outlucks me every time. Wherefore I quits ’em cold, an’ any gent who wants my chance with females can shorely have the same.’

“‘Oh, I don’t know!’ remarks Doc Peets, gettin’ in on what’s a general play, ‘I’ve been all through the herd, an’ I must say I deems women good people every time; a heap finer folks than men, an’ faithfuller.’

“‘Which I don’t deny females is fine folks,’ says Texas, ‘but what I’m allowin’ is, they’s fitful. They don’t stay none. You-alls can hobble an’sideline’em both at night; an’ when you rolls out in the mornin’, they’s gone.’

“‘What do you-all think, Nell?’ says Doc Peets to Faro Nell, who’s perched up on her stool by Cherokee’s shoulder. ‘What do you-all reckon now of Texas yere, a-malignin’ of your sex? Why don’t you p’int him to Dave Tutt an’ Tucson Jennie? Which they gets married, an’ thar they be, gettin’ along as peaceful as two six-shooters on the same belt.’

“‘I don’t mind what Texas says, none,’ replies Faro Nell. ‘Texas is all right, an’ on the square”. I shouldn’t wonder none if this yere Missis Thompson does saw it off on him some shabby, gettin’ that sep’ration, an’ I don’t marvel at his remarks. But as long as Cherokee yere thinks I’m right, I don’t let nobody’s views pester me a little bit, so thar.’