Ol' Cast Steel went down twice the first winter, an' never let her know 'at he was in the neighborhood, for fear it would make her think 'at he was pinin' for her. He just went down there an' bought some store clothes an' prowled around waitin' for the chance to see her at a distance—never even lined out the professors to see if they were doin' their duty, nor mixed in the game the slightest bit. Talk about bein' game? I reckon that puts a shadow on anything ever that man had to face.
She used to come back every summer, bringin' a lot of chums an' all kinds o' pets with her. She was just daffy over any kind of a wild animal from an Injun papoose to a white mouse; an' when she'd go back in the fall, Jabez had his hands full with parrots an' alligators an' butterfly coons an' sech—to say nothin' of a lot of potted flowers what was mighty notionable in their tastes.
I was so busy tendin' to this branch o' the outfit that about all the ridin' I did was for exercise—yes, an' for company, 'cause it allus seemed as if she was along when I'd be out on the range. Then, again, I allus felt a kind of drawin', myself, to the silent people, who think an' wish an' feel, just the same as we do, but aren't able to handle our langwidge. I got so I could purt' nigh tell what an animal had on his mind, just from tendin' to her speciments.
She had one speciment which was a possom, an' the blame thing bit me eight times one winter, me tryin' to give it baths—an' then she wrote back home that the doggone critter didn't need'em nohow. She purt'nigh got expended for takin' a rattlesnake back to the university an' keepin' it hid in her room; an' after I'd had a deuce of a time catchin' 'em, they made her send a bob-cat an' a mountain lion to some kind of a garden—wouldn't let her keep 'em at all. The professors allus was a sore trial to her, but once she began a thing she allus fought it through, so she put up with 'em the best way she could.
She used to tell us that bein' housed up like to 'a' drove her crazy at first, an' they was so tarnation fussy that she felt like a hobbled pony in a stampede. They wouldn't even let her picket her ponies out in what they call the campus, which she said was just drippin' fat with rich grass, an' nary a hoof to graze it. Why, they even had fool notions about havin' certain hours about goin' to bed, an' even when you had to put your lights out.
One night she got fidgety an' nervous with the lonesomeness of it, an' she got up about one o'clock an' fired her revolvers out the window,—just for sport, you know, like a feller sometimes will when he's—well, when his soul gets kind o' itchy like,—an' it purt' nigh started a riot. She said 'at we wouldn't never believe how different the people was down there. I reckon a university must be run a good bit like a penitentiary. But as I said, she wasn't no quitter, an' I reckon, takin' it all in all, she give 'em back about as good as they sent.
Course we could see a lot o' change in her when she'd first come back, but it seemed to slide off as the tan came on, an' by the time she left in the fall again she'd be purty much the same old Barbie. She went full five years, countin' the prep-school, an' I don't suppose they was much in the way o' learnin' they didn't filter through her; but it didn't spoil her, an' the very moment her knees clamped on a pony again you could see that her blood was as red as ever, even if her face was roses an' cream. My heart allus beat out of time when I knew she was headin' back; but the very minute she gave my hand the old-time grip I knew she was still the old-time girl, an' when she'd turn to the chums an' say, "Girls, this is Happy," why, I was big brother to the lot, an' before they went back I'd teach 'em ridin' till they could giggle on hoss-back without fallin' off. They all owned up that she was the takin'est girl at the university, and while her pals was a mighty attractive lot, they didn't have to use any arguments to convince me it was the truth.
She allus left me so much to do when she was away that I never felt like leavin' through the winter; while durin' vacation time I wouldn't have gone without bein' drove; but toward the middle of her fourth year, me an' Bill Andrews had another little run in.
We was havin' a terrible streak of weather, an' Bill wanted to move a herd over to the southwest corner of the ranch where the' was some extra good bunch grass. It was a wise move all right, an' I said so; but when he wanted me to help trail 'em, I vetoed it. I was watchin' up some experiments with silkworms an' I didn't want to leave 'em. We were short-handed an' Jabez 'lowed 'at I'd better go. Well, we argued back an' forth until he finally said that he could take full care o' the silkworms, an' intimated that my work with 'em wasn't much but pastime, anyway.
That settled it with me. I helped drive the herd, an' it was the bitterest weather we'd ever had. The sleet blew in the cow's faces an' it was simply one long fight. Three o' the boys gave up an' pulled back to the ranch house, but not me. I don't believe I slept on that drive, night or day, an' when, the boys finally told Bill Andrews that it couldn't be done, I told 'em that it could, an' that if any more of 'ern dropped out I'd count it a personal insult. We got 'em there all right, an' then I rode back to the ranch house.