It was not a love epistle,--at least, not such a one as he would have written,--it did not give the address nor the name of the correspondent; but he read the following with greedy eyes:-- "Perhaps it's just as well that you don't rig yourself out for the benefit of those dead-beats at the Crossing, or any tramp that might hang round the ranch.

Keep all your style for me when I come.

I can't tell you when, it's mighty uncertain before the rainy season.

But I'm coming soon.

Don't go back on your promise about lettin' up on the tramps, and being a little more high-toned.