give in.

Well, one o' these strays was what they call an astronomer. His
speciality was the stars, nothing less; an' he knew 'em by name an'
could tell you how far off they are an' what they weigh an' how many
moons they had an'--oh, he knew 'em the same as I know the home
herd, an' he didn't only know what they had done--he knew what they
was a-goin' to do, an' when he called the turn on 'em, why they up
an' done it. Comets an' eclipses an' sech like miracles were jest
the same to this feller as winter an' summer was to me, an' we fed
him until he like to founder himself, tryin' to hold him through the
winter; but at last he had to go, an' after he'd gone Cast Steel was
purty down-hearted for quite a spell.

"It ain't fair, Happy," sez he to me one day after the astronomer
had gone.

"No," sez I, "I reckon it will rain before mornin'."

"I mean it ain't a fair shake," sez he. "Jupiter has eight of 'em
an' we ain't but one an' the' ain't nobody lives there, while--"

"What do you happen to be talkin' of?" sez I.

"Why moons," sez he. "It seems too doggone bad for that confounded
planet to have eight moons an' no one to enjoy 'em while my little
girl jest dotes on 'em an' we only have one--an' IT don't work
more'n half the time."

That was Cast Steel: he didn't look on life or death, or wealth or