The Settling of the Sage

"It do," said the stranger.

"I'm the best wagon cook that ever sloshed dishwater over the tail-gate, and even better than that in a ranch-house kitchen," the loquacious one modestly assured him. "But I can't do justice to the meals when I lay out to do all the chores within four miles and run myself thin collecting scraps and squaw wood to keep the stove het up. Now since Billie has hired you, I trust you'll work up a pile of wood that will keep me going--and folks call me Waddles," he added as an afterthought.

"Very good, Mr. Waddles," the newcomer smiled. "You shall have your fuel."

The big man grinned.

"That title is derived from my shape and gait," he informed. "My regular name is Smith--if you're set on tacking a Mister on behind it."

The girl waved the talkative cook aside and turned to the new hand.

"You'll take it then."

He nodded.

"Could you spare me about ten minutes some time to-day?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I'll send for you whe