“Family troubles?” asked the fat lady, as a gourmet might say “Truffles.” “Looks like it,” said Leander, dismally. “Me and Johnnie don’t ask for nothin’ better than to bask in each other’s company; but our wives insists on keepin’ up the manœuvres of a war-dance the whole endoorin’ time.” “So,” said the fat lady, as a gourmet might tell of a favorite way of preparing truffles, “it’s a case of wives?” “Yes, marm, an’ teeth an’ nails an’ husbands thrown in, when they get a sight of each other’s petticoats.” “I’ve known sisters-in-law not to agree,” helped on the fat lady, by way of an encouraging parallel. “While I deplores usin’ such a comparison to the refinin’ and softenin’ inflooance of wimmen, the meetin’ of the Dax ladies by chanst anywheres has all the elements of danger and excitement that accompanies an Injun uprisin’.” The travellers looked all manner of encouragement. “You see, my wife’s a great housekeeper; her talent lies”—and here Leander winked knowingly—“in managin’ the help.” “Land’s sake!” interrupted the fat lady. “Why don’t you kick?” Leander sighed softly. “I tried to once. As an experiment it partook of the trustfulness of a mule kickin’ against the stony walls of Badger Cañon. But to resoom about the difficulties that split the Dax family. Before Johnnie got mislaid in that matrimonial landslide o’ his, he herds with us. Me an’ him does the work of this yere shack, and my wife just roominates and gives her accomplishments as manager full play. She never put her hand in dirty water any more than Mrs. Cleveland sittin’ up in the White House parlor. Johnnie done the fancy cookin’; he could make a pie like any one’s maw, and while you was lost to the world in the delights of masticatin’ it, he’d have all his greasy dishes washed up and put away—” “No wonder she hated to lose a man like that,” interrupted the fat lady, feelingly. “But he took to pinin’ and proclaimin’ that he shore was a lone maverick, and he just stampeded round lookin’ for trouble and bleatin’ a song that went: “‘No one to love, None to caress.’ “Well, the lady that answers his signal of distress don’t bear none of the brands of this yere range. She lives back East, and him and her took up their claims in each other’s affections through a matrimonial paper known as _The Heart and Hand_. So they takes their pens in hand and gets through a hard spell of courtin’ on paper. Love plumb locoes Johnnie. His spellin’ don’t suit him, his handwritin’ don’t suit him, his natchral letters don’t suit him. So off he sends to Denver for all the letter-writin’ books he can buy—_Handbook of Correspondence_, _The Epistolary Guide_, _The Ready Letter-Writer_, and a stack more. There’s no denyin’ it, Johnnie certainly did sweat hisself over them letters.” “Land’s sakes!” said the fat lady.