was off somewhere helping to dig a well. The
house I thought very comfortable for two men
who were "batching." Besides the kitchen,
there was a living-room, with a wide double
bed built against the wall, properly made up
with blue gingham sheets and pillows. There
was a little storeroom, too, with a window,
where they kept guns and saddles and tools,
and old coats and boots. That day the floor
was covered with garden things, drying for
winter; corn and beans and fat yellow cucum-
bers. There were no screens or window-blinds
in the house, and all the doors and windows
stood wide open, letting in flies and sunshine
alike.

Peter put the melons in a row on the oil-
cloth-covered table and stood over them,
brandishing a butcher knife. Before the blade
got fairly into them, they split of their own
ripeness, with a delicious sound. He gave us
knives, but no plates, and the top of the table
was soon swimming with juice and seeds. I
had never seen any one eat so many melons
as Peter ate. He assured us that they were
good for one -- better than medicine; in his
country people lived on them at this time of
year. He was very hospitable and jolly.

[[40]]

p039 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p040w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p041

v?