The Washington herald., 1920-06-06

NExORABLY Sam Galloway
j saddled his pony. He was going
away from the Rancho Attic at
the end o IA three-months' visit.
1t is not to be expected that
guest should put up with wheat
coffee and biscuits yellow-streaked
with saleratus for longer than
that. Nick Napoleon, the big
negro man cook. had never been
able to make good biscuits. Once
before, when Nick was cooking
at the Willow Ranch. Sam had
been forced to fly from his cuisine,
after only a six-weeks' sojourn.
On Sans face was an ex-
preston of sorrow. deepened with
regret and slightly tempered by
the patient forgiveness of a con-
noisseur who cannot be under
stood. But very firmly and in
exorably he buckled his saddle
cinches. looped his stake-rope and
hung il to his saddle-horn, tied
his slicker and coat on the cantle.
and looped his quirt on his right
wrist. The Merrydews (house-
holders of the Rancho Altito),
men, women, children, and serv-
ants. vassals, visitors, employees.
dogs. and casual callers were
grouped in the gallery" of the
ranch house. all with faces set to
the tune of melancholy and grief.
For, as the coming of Sam Gallo
way to any ranch, camp, or cabin
between the Rivers Frio or Bravo
del Norte aroused joy, so his de-
parture caused mourning and dis
tress.
And then, during absolute si-
lence, except for the humping of
a hind elbow of a hound dog as he
pursued a wicked flea, Sam ten
derby and carefully tied his guitar
across his saddle on top of his
in a green duck bag; and IL you
catch the significance OF il, il ex-
plains Sam.
Troubadours. OF course you know
about the troubadours. The en-
cyclopaedia says they flourished
between the eleventh and thir-
teenth centuries. What they
fiourished doesn't seem clear -
you may be pretty sure II wasn't
a sword; maybe it was a fiddle
bow. or a forkfuI OF spaghetti. or
lady's scarf. Anyhow, Sam
Galloway was one of 'em.
Sam put on a martyred express
sion as he mounted his pony. But
the expression on his face was
hilarious compared with the one
on his pony's. You see, a pony
gets to know his rider mighty
well. and it is not unlikely that
cow ponies In pastures and at
hitching racks had often guyed
Sans pony for being ridden by a
guitar player instead OF by
rollicking, cussing, all-wool cow
boy. No man is a hero to his sad
dle-horse. And even an escalator
in a department store might be
excused for tripping up a trouba-
dour.
Oh, know I'm one; and so are
you. You remember the stories
you memorize and the card tricks
you study and that little piece on
the piano-how does 1T go?-ti-
tum-te-tum-ti ti-tum - those little
Arabian Ten-Minute Entertain
ments that you furnish when you
go up to call on your rich Aunt
Jane. You should know that
omnoe personoe in tres parties
divisae sunt. Namely: Barons,
Troubadours, and Workers. Bar
ons have no inclination to read
such folderol as this; and Work
ers have no time; so I know you
must be a Troubadour. and that
you will understand Sam Gallo
way. Whether we sing. act,
dance, write, lecture, or paint,
we are only troubadours; so let
us make the worst of it
The pony with the Dante ALI
ghieri face. guided by the pres
sure of Sans knees. bore that
wandering minstrel sixteen miles
southeastward. Nature was in
her most benignant mood. League
after league of delicate. sweet
fiowerets made fragrant the gent
ly undulating prairie. The east
wind tempered the spring warmth;
wool-white clouds flying in from
the Mexican Gulf hindered the di-
rect rays of the April sun. Sam
sang songs as he rode. Under his
pony's bride he had tucked some
sprigs of chaparral to keep away
the deer flies. Thus crowned. the
long-faced quadruped looked more
Dantesque than before. and judg-
ing by his countenance. seemed to
think of Beatrice.
Straight as topography permit
ted, Sam rode to the sheep ranch
of old man Ellison. A visit to a
sheep ranch seemed to him de-
sirable just then. There had been
too many people, too much noise,
argument. competition, confusion.
at Rancho Attic. He had never
conferred upon old man Ellison