but a chat with the three daughters of Jim
O'Neal, the proprietor -- girls with the acci-
dent of two Irish parents, who were, not-
withstanding, as typically American as they
well could be. A half-hour's talk with these
cheerful young women was all the more to
be desired for the reason that within riding
distance of the three Johns' ranch there were
only two other women. One was Minerva
Fitch, who had gone out from Michigan
accompanied by an oil-stove and a knowl-
edge of the English grammar, with the
intention of teaching school, but who had
been unable to carry these good intentions
into execution for the reason that there were
no children to teach, -- at least, none but
Bow-legged Joe. He was a sad little fellow,
who looked like a prairie-dog, and who had
very much the same sort of an outlook on life.
The other woman was the brisk and efficient
wife of Mr. Bill Deems, of "Missourah."
Mr. Deems had never in his life done any-
thing, not even so much as bring in a basket
of buffalo chips to supply the scanty fire.
That is to say, he had done nothing strictly
utilitarian. Yet he filled his place. He was
the most accomplished story-teller in the
whole valley, and this accomplishment of his
was held in as high esteem as the improvisa-
tions of a Welsh minstrel were among his