“This here is a special delivery letter—darn such things! Uncle Sam forces me to ride plumb up here to deliver this or take the consequences, which I believe is three hundred days in jail or a year—sign right on that line. Now, I reckon I’ll go on back. Hope it ain’t bad news, Muley. Mostly always a letter of that kind or a telegram means death. Come from Milwaukee. You got any kin in Milwaukee?” But Muley has gone back into the house, and Paddy don’t get the information he seeks. About fifteen minutes later Muley comes down to the bunk-house, where I’m putting some rosettes on a new bridle, and he’s got a grin plumb across his fat face. I glances at him and goes on working. “Henry,” says he, after a little while, “would you like to have a job herding my sheep?” “Your sheep? Sure. I’ll herd all you got in my sleep.” “I’m going to be the richest man in Yaller Rock County,” he proclaims. “You better talk lower, Muley,” I advises. “If the county commissioners hear you talk thataway they’ll way-bill you to the loco-lodge at Warm Springs.” “You remember me telling you about my Aunt Agnes, Hen? She died.” “And left you a sheep?” I asks. “Sheep—always sheep! Take a look at this.” He hands me a letter—the one what Paddy brought him, and I looks her over. The brand opines it to be from Milwaukee, and the top of the letter proclaims that Frederick & Quincy are lawyers. She listens something like this: Dear Sir: It grieves us to inform you that your aunt, Miss Agnes Allender, of this city, died on the fifth day of August, 1900. According to her last will and testament, you, which she designates as her favorite nephew, will inherit the bulk of her estate, which is valued at about one hundred thousand dollars. As you likely know she was a very eccentric person, and her will imposes you as follows: without receiving a cent of said inheritance you must, before the fifteenth day of August, 1900, have invested four-fifths of said hundred thousand dollars in sheep. She also designates that: the said Lemuel Allender Bowles must not marry for the space of five years under penalty of forfeiture of entire inheritance. Also that he take a care for Alfred and Amelia for the rest of their natural lives. All of the foregoing requests must be complied with or my estate is to be divided between charitable institutions aforementioned in my will. On the fifteenth day of August, 1900, our representative will call on you and examine your investments. We wish you luck. I hands it back to him, and goes on working. “Well,” says he, sort of choking-like, “don’t I get congratulated?”