arden path,
and reinforcements in the shape of three more young ladies emerged from
the gate and fell upon the rebellious mail-carrier. They climbed into
the shaking old buckboard and Maggie seized the reins and turned old
Bella up the hill again.

"Now, we'll drive you clean back to Lakeview, if you don't speak up
smart and say you'll take it!" she cried.

But Coonie did not mind. Mr. Basketful was by this time in the middle
of the road, so he prolonged the encounter as long as possible.

"Go ahead," he said, settling himself comfortably in his seat; "you'll
soon be at the Oa, if you keep on. I bet that's where Jessie wants to
go to see what's the latest news from Don Neil."

"Yes, and you want to go up the hill and talk to 'Liza Cotton,"
retorted Jessie.

"That's it," laughed Maggie, pulling the old horse almost into the
ditch, "you'd trot off with a bundle quick enough if she asked you."

Coonie roared. "Well, that's true. Haw! Haw! I'd start off that
quick I'd never git stopped. Gosh! but ain't she the old scorpion!" he
exclaimed with feeling, "Say, if her an' me was the only folks left in
the world, I'd kill her an' live alone. See here, you scalawags, clear
out an' leave that poor brute alone, an' I'll take your trash."

It was a surrender. The victorious quartette leaped from the buckboard
and retired, with many admonitions for his guidance in his future
dealings with them, warnings which Coonie pretended not to hear.

His shoulders sagged again as he slowly approached the post-office. He
paused a few moments on the bridge, to gaze meditatively into the
water, then he spent some time gesticulating to an imaginary person
down at the mill-dam, and at last, slowly and with every appearance of
insupportable weariness, dragged up to the post-office door.

"Kind of hot," he remarked genially, noticing the perspiring
countenance of the indignant postmaster.

Mr. Basketful took the mail-bag with a withering air. "Kind o'," he
remarked sarcastically. "Guess your 'orse 'ad a sunstroke on the road.
'Ere 'Syl, tend to that hanimal, will you?"

A stylishly dressed young man came down with elegant leisure from his
position on a cracker barrel and proceeded to water Coonie's horse.
The mail-carrier's helpless condition called for assistance which was
always freely rendered. The person to whom the task generally fell was
Mr. Sylvanus Todd, who, by reason of his leisurely habits, found plenty
of time, w