“I have always heard that Texans were a friendly and hospitable set of people,” said Uncle John, as he pushed his chair away from the table; “but I have learned that they are just the reverse. I have been among them a good many months, and there hasn’t been a person here to see me—not one.” “They’re a set of boors,” observed Ned. “You and I want nothing to do with them, father. We must live entirely within ourselves, while we stay here, and we’re able to do it.” “But they won’t let you,” said George. “They! Who?” demanded Ned. “The settlers about here.” “How are they going to help themselves, I’d like to know? Isn’t this a free country?” “Yes, it’s a free country,” answered George, with a smile, “almost _too_ free, you would think, if you had seen what I have. If you are going to live among these people, you must be one of them.” Ned ran his eye over his cousin’s sturdy figure taking in at a glance his copper-colored face, large, rough hands and coarse clothing, and then he looked down at himself. “How must I do it?” he asked. “You must pull off that finery, the first thing you do,” was George’s blunt reply. “Throw it away. It is of no use to you in this country.” “I found that out long ago,” sneered Ned. “These people look upon a red shirt as a badge of respectability.” “And so it is, in one sense of the word,” returned George. “When you are dressed for work, you are ready for it; and when people see you at work, they know that you have an honest way of making a living. People who do nothing are of no more use here in Texas, than they are in Ohio.” “That’s just what I have been trying to drum into his head ever since we have been here,” said Uncle John, who had not been known to do a stroke of work of any kind during the long months he had lived in the rancho. “Go on and tell him what to do, George.” “It must be something that will bring me money,” chimed in Ned. “I shan’t work for nothing.” “There are plenty of things that will bring you money,” replied George. “You can rent a piece of ground, fence it in and go to farming; or you can be a cattle or pig-raiser.” “Pig-raiser!” exclaimed Ned, in great disgust. “There’s money in it, I tell you. These post-oak belts that run across the state, afford the finest pasturage in the world—hundreds of bushels of acorns to the acre,—and all you would have to do would be to build you a little hut in some place that suited you, and call up your pigs twice a day and feed them a little corn, to keep them from straying away and going wild. If you want to make money without work,” added George, who knew very well that that was just what his cousin _did_ want, “you can’t select a better business.” “I’m not going to live among pigs!” declared Ned, emphatically. “That’s settled. If I had a herd of cattle like yours, I might take some interest in it.” “You can get it, if you are willing to work for it, as I did.”