As I turn my inward gaze backward, I laugh reminiscently. It is a delight to live over my past: a past that is filled with golden memories. Not that it is anything unusual, but in my soul I find that fond remembrances have no regrets; sweet thoughts do linger yet. Vividly my school days remain, and I am able to trip to school again with pigtails gallantly swaying with the breeze. How happy I was when the little boy sitting next to me wrote those three little words on his slate for my eyes only---

One day as I sat at my desk, deep in reverie, Oleo breezed in.

“Lehte,” he began, “I’ve allus told you that Good Luck will help a man cross a bridge if he’s able to jump far enough! I jumped---an’ landed a job in a meat market!”

“Yeh,” I retorted, “you’re allus landing a job but you just don’t stick.”

“I’m not a postage stamp, Lehte Nildem. Make money, spend it, then make more, has allus been my motto-but now I’m turning over a new leaf and I’m gonna give the best that’s in me this time. I will make you proud of me yet!”

I merely grunted, and as he ankled out the door I said to myself, “But before Saturday night, Oleo, you’ll be as hungry as a bug in a haunted house-that is, if you depend upon the pay you get from your job!”

Dutifully I went about my work. My countenance might have been that of Nero suffering a sartorial criticism from Petronius; then I pleasantly remembered that though he did leave often, he was always glad to hit the trail back to us.

The news of Oleo’s good luck spread rapidly. Before the dawn of a new day, every cowboy had heard---and was sorry. To give a one word description of Oleo, I should say “icy” but there is something about him that eclipses his bad characteristics, making his finer qualities stand out. To us, Oleo Margarine Greene means as much as did the Praetorian guards to the Caesars. Down in the hearts of every inhabitant of Bow Wow Ranch there is brotherly love for the wanderlust of the Caroline hills---a deep love that seems unchanging.

Skies seemed gray the morning we hitched Boneyard up to carry over pal to the city. There were eight of us who saw him safely in his new abode, giving him heartfelt wishes for a successful future.

Slowly we turned Boneyard round and headed for home. The little terrier of Oleo’s sadly trailed behind our hack as though it were a hearse. Even Willie Brown’s Lizzie could have passed us then; could have painfully purred ahead of Boneyard---the fastest hoss in Hossville!

Several days passed, but no word from our chum. I was somewhat worried, but on Saturday the postman brought a letter that quenched my fears.

“Dear Lehte,” it read, “I’m coming home. Have lost my job. Come for immediately if not sooner.”---Oleo

The wind began to blow gray clouds away, and the sun came peeping through! Once again we were riding homeward, but this time Boneyard quickened his pace. Our chum was with us! Not one cowboy laughed at him. Every face was sober. Dusk descended, leaving the nine of us riding ranchward in the twilight. Somewhere in the distance a saxophone sounded, trembled, then died away.

Only Oleo broke the silence, “Lehte, Life’s just one eventful game. I can’t quite understand it. I was doing well with my job. The boss bragged on me. Then one day the Mayor’s wife came in and wanted to know if we had any dog meat. I told her we had every other kind and I’d see if we had any of that. After looking, I informed her that we did not, but that my chum, Lehte Nildem, was a good hand at catching stray dogs so I’d have you dress one and bring it up. She screamed---the hussy---and ran out the door. The next day I was fired!”

Stars twinkled---the man in the moon seemed to laugh. But still our faces remained sober. We realized that whatever storm may upset our sails, the end will always be peace. The mills of the Gods grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly well.