"Of course reading's handy enough for them as don't lay much stock on
education," Dan owned, stringing his net between his mosquito-pegs, then,
struck with a new idea, he "wondered why the missus never carries books
round. Any one 'ud think she wasn't much at the reading trick herself,"
he said. "Never see you at it, missus, when I'm round."
"Lay too much stock on education," I answered, and, chuckling, Dan
retired into his net, little guessing that when he was "round," his own
self, his quaint outlook on life, and the underlying truth of his
inexhaustible, whimsical philosophy, were infinitely more interesting
than the best book ever written.
But the Quiet Stockman seemed perplexed at the answer. "I thought
reading 'ud learn you most things," he said, hesitating beside his own
net; and before we could speak, the corner of Dan's net was lifted and
his head reappeared. "I've learned a deal of things in my time," he
chuckled, "but READING never taught me none of 'em." Then his head once
more disappeared, and we tried to explain matters to the Quiet Stockman.
The time was not yet ready for the offer of a helping hand.
At four in the morning we were roused by a new camp reveille of
Star-light. "Nothing like getting off early when mustering's the game,"
Dan announced.
