"Them pups?" The old man took his pipe from his jaws. A queer look flashed across his brown face; he chuckled as if the words brought up some rather amusing recollection. Now, old Dad was one of the worst practical jokers in the West. Nor did he count the cost or think of the results as long as he could carry his point, and fool some one with one of his wildly improbable yarns. To "pick a load" into some innocent tenderfoot was his most joyous occupation. I waited patiently for him to recover from the fit of mirth into which my innocent question seemed to have plunged him. There was a look of extreme disgust on the face of the lady sitting nearby. "Ye 'member that there young kid-like chap what drifted in here last spring after the steer gatherin'?" Again that witless chuckle. Yes, I remembered. We both did--the madam nodded. "Well, along about the time them there pups came into this here state of Arizony"--the madam's face lighted; there were some pups after all--"the kid and I was here at the ranch all alone, the whole outfit bein' out on the _rodeo_, an' we havin' been left behind to watch the pasture fence, where a bunch of yearlin's was bein' weaned. One mornin' the kid busted into the kitchen. 'The mut's got four purps! Come an' look at em; they's all de-formed!' ses he, almost breathless with the news." (Business of surprise and horror on part of listening lady.) "'De-formed?'" ses I. "'That's what I sed,' he snaps back at me." (More business of S. and H. on part of lady; also friend husband.) "I follers the kid out to the shed back of the house, where the dog had a pile of ole saddle blankets for a bed, and sure enough she had four white faced brindle purps all right, whinin' an' sniffin' just as purps allers does. "'What's wrong with 'em?' says I, me not seein' anything de-formed about 'em. "'Hell' ses he, 'can't you see they's all de-formed?' "'Search me,' ses I, lookin' 'em all over carefully. "The kid picked up two of 'em. 'Lookit them tails then.' He turned one of 'em around. Now Beauty ain't got no great shakes of a tail herself, but what she has is straight. 'By Heck!' ses I, seein' a chanst to have some fun with him, 'sure enough, they is sort of de-formed in their little ole _colas_. Reckon they's no use botherin' to raise 'em, is they--what with their tails all as crooked as a gimlet. Too bad, too bad,' ses I, 'fer the missus will be monstrously disapp'inted over it.' "'They's every dad burned one of 'em got a watch eye too, jist like that there ole Pinto hoss I rides.' The kid's sure worried. "'Wuss an' more of it,' I comes back at him. "'What we goin' to do with 'em?' droppin' the animiles back into the blankets. "'Nothin', I reckon,' lookin' straight down my nose, 'less'n we drownds 'em--said job not bein' one I'm actually hankerin' fer.'" [Illustration: "_The galvanized iron sails of the windmill flashed in the sunlight_"]