“That good-for-nothing hussy of a girl will come to a bad end, you mark my words,” Mrs. Adams said spitefully, as I turned to wave my hand to the plucky little figure standing in the dust of the roadside, “but I suppose you think she’s real cute, running down her poor old father.” We jogged along in silence for some time, then, as we approached a prosperous-looking farm, my employer suggested that I try my hand at the game. With sinking heart I dragged my reluctant feet up the path, but was surprised and reassured by the warmth of my reception. Unlike the city dweller, the average country woman rather welcomes the call of a peddler. I was fortunate in more ways than one, for my customer had money and made a large selection, so that I was enabled to pay for my goods and retain sixty-five cents to jingle in my pocket. For the rest of the day, we took turns at the farmhouses and by night I had quite a supply of food, which represented clear profit, as I had paid for the toilet articles in produce. Dan and I had determined to attend to our own culinary operations instead of boarding with Mrs. Adams, as had been suggested. We felt that we could save more money, and while our table was not elaborate, it satisfied our needs very nicely. About five o’clock we overtook the men, and following their direction, soon arrived at the camping place. The evening meal concluded, Dan and I were sitting beside our little fire, comparing the day’s experiences, when Mr. Adams strolled over and threw himself down beside us. After some desultory conversation, he plunged into a philosophical discussion. “Have you ever made a study of Nietzsche?” he demanded. “I’ve tried to read him, but with little success,” I replied. “His philosophy is so revolting to me, that I can scarcely pass an unbiassed judgment on him.” “You surprise me. I consider Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche the greatest genius and the most profound philosopher that the world has yet produced. His work is so free from sentimental mush, his attitude is so clearly scientific, he shows none of the weakness that comes from....” “Oh, Frankie, love, come quick. I need you.” It was the voice of our friend’s fair partner. He rose slowly to his feet and bade us good-night. “I have a hunch that Honey-drips does not care for philosophy,” observed Dan, as we rose to turn in for the night. The next few days were uneventful. Mr. Bates took a train for Cheyenne, leaving Dan to handle the sign orders alone. We had accumulated an abundant supply of farm produce of all kinds, in fact, we were overstocked in some lines, so that Mr. Adams suggested a change of programme. Instead of riding behind the mule team, I now go with the men in the buckboard, and while Mr. Adams solicits sign orders, and Dan puts them up, I canvass the towns where my goods sell for cash.