CHAPTER XV.
SCIENCE AT HEART'S DESIRE _This being the Story of a Cow Puncher, an Osteopath, and a Cross-eyed Horse_ "That old railroad'll shore bust me up a heap if it ever does git in here," remarked Tom Osby one morning in the forum of Whiteman's corral, where the accustomed group was sitting in the sun, waiting for some one to volunteer as Homer for the day.
There was little to do but listen to story telling, for Tom Osby dwelt in the tents of Kedar, delaying departure on his accustomed trip to Vegas.
"A feller down there to Sky Top," he went on, arousing only the most indolent interest, "one of them spy-glass ingineers--tenderfoot, with his six-shooter belt buckled so tight he couldn't get his feet to the ground--he says to me I might as well trade my old grays for a nice new checkerboard, or a deck of author cards, for I won't have nothing to do but just amuse myself when the railroad cars gets here." No one spoke.

All present were trying to imagine how Heart's Desire would seem with a railroad train each day.
"Things'll be some different in them days, mebbe so." Tom recrossed his legs with well-considered deliberation.
"There's a heap of things different already from what they used to be when I first hit the cow range," said Curly.

"The whole country's changed, and it ain't changed for the better, either.

Grass is longer, and horns is shorter, and men is triflin'er.

Since the Yankees has got west of the Missouri River a ranch foreman ain't allowed to run his own brandin' iron any more, and that takes more'n half the poetry out of the cow business, don't it, Mac ?" This to McKinney, who was nearly asleep.
"Everything else is changing too," Curly continued, gathering fluency as memories began to crowd upon him.