His cayuse was puffing up the steep mountain trail in the darkness of the thick pines and spruces when Porcupine suddenly let out a yell which startled the prowling lynx and made his pinto snort with fright. It was a wild whoop of exultation. There had come to Porcupine one of those rare revelations which have made men great. He fairly glowed and tingled with the inspiration which had flashed upon him as though someone had gone through his brain with a lantern.
When he rode into camp, where Laney sat before the fire eating bacon out of a frying-pan, Porcupine’s deep-set blue eyes were shining like stars on a winter’s night.
“Yass, I got de greatest ting in de mail you ever see, I tank!”
Laney’s face expressed curiosity as the Swede sat down on a log and turned his felt hat round and round upon his bullet-shaped head—a trick he had when excited. With great deliberation and impressiveness he produced the paper and handed it to Laney. Laney set the frying-pan where his wolfhound could finish the bacon and opened the paper.
“Young, beautiful, immensely rich; obj., mat.,” he read. Laney’s eyes sparkled. He read for half an hour of successful weddings brought about by the editorial Cupid. Porcupine at last roused him from his absorption.
“Laney, I got a scheme, I tank. I’ll join up with one of dem clubs and you carry out de corryspondance with one of dem ladies. You are a better scholar den me and write a pooty goot letter. Den, if it goes all right, I’ll go and see her and tell her I ain’t exactly de man dat done de writin’, but I’m just as goot.
“’Tain’t no use for you to get into de club, because you are all the same as promised to Belle Dashiel. Sure,” Porcupine went on, “Belle ain’t rich nor beautiful like dem ladies in Weddin’ Chimes, but she’s a goot little girl.
“Old Dashiel ain’t got more dan fifty head of beef cattle, and dey say he got a lot of runts in de last Govermint issue, but a ting like dat don’t cut no ice if you’re stuck on de girl.”
Laney moved uneasily and avoided Porcupine’s eyes.
“Now for me,” continued the Swede, “I can marry any millionaire I want to.”