“Sometimes it is,” May agreed. “But I imagine things can be said and pretty well said, and things done, too, without a great many words.”
“Oh, sure,” Robin admitted cheerfully. “Education’s all right. I got enough school into my system to show me that. But it won’t do no work by itself. There was a fellow named Sears in the Black Hills where I was raised. He was a college man. Talked three languages. I’ve seen him keep a whole cow outfit quiet for an hour listening to him when he got tellin’ about things he’d seen and read and knew about. He should have been writin’ stories for the magazines. Well, his old man who was pretty well heeled somewhere east finally died an’ left Sears thirty thousand dollars. First thing he ups and gets married. Then he got him a ranch and about a thousand cattle for a starter. In four years he was broke and his wife run away with a bronco buster from Miles City. Last I heard of Sears he was punchin’ cows for the L7 on the lower Yellowstone.”
“Does that illustrate the perils of education?” May chuckled.
“Uh-uh. Not to me. Only that education don’t give you a cinch. If you got brains and half a chance you can get an education. If you only got a twice-by-two skypiece all the schoolin’ in the world won’t land you on top of the heap.”
“I wonder which crowd I belong to,” May reflected.
“Oh, shucks, I wasn’t aimin’ at you,” Robin protested.
“I know you weren’t,” she smiled. “Well, maybe we’ll continue the discussion at that dance. Good-night.”
This time she was gone, galloping into the twilight. Robin sat looking after her, listening to the rat-a-pat of her horse’s hoofs until both sound and rider were swallowed in the dark.
Then he let Stormy have his head and in half an hour was dismounting at the Bar M Bar. Lights shone in the windows. Old Mayne came to the door. Ivy peered over his shoulder, smiling welcome when the lamplight showed Robin’s face.
“I guess I’ll put these nags in the stable for awhile,” Robin said, and Mayne brought a lantern.