tic fan."

The Harvester laughed as he again touched Betsy and hurried to Onabasha.
He scarcely saw the delights offered on either hand, and where his
eyes customarily took in every sight, and his ears were tuned for
the faintest note of earth or tree top, to day he saw only Betsy and
listened for a whistle he dreaded to hear at the water tank. He climbed
the embankment of the railway at a slower pace, but made up time going
down hill to the city.

"I am not getting a blame thing out of this," he complained to
Belshazzar. "There are riches to stagger any scientist wasting to-day,
and all I've got to show is one oriole. I did hear his first note and
see his flash, and so unless we can take time to make up for this on the
home road we will have to christen it oriole day. It's a perfumed golden
day, too; I can get that in passing, but how I loathe hurrying. I don't
mind planning things and working steadily, but it's not consistent with
the dignity of a sane man to go rushing across country with as much
appreciation of the delights offered right now as a chicken with its
head off would have. We will loaf going back to pay for this! And won't
we invite our souls? We will stop and gather a big bouquet of crab
apple blossoms to fill the green pitcher for her. Maybe some of their
wonderful perfume will linger in her room. When the petals fall we will
scatter them in the drawers of her dresser, and they may distil a faint
flower odour there. We could do that to all her furniture, but perhaps
she doesn't like perfume. She'll be compelled to after she reaches
Medicine Woods. Betsy, you must travel faster!"

The whip fell again and the Harvester stopped at the depot with a few
minutes to spare. He threw the hitching strap to Belshazzar, and ran
into the express office with an arm load of boxes.

"Bill them!" he cried. "It's a rush order. I want it to go on the
next express. Almost due I think. I'll help you and we can book them
afterward."

The expressman ran for a truck and they hastily weighed and piled on
boxes. When the last one was loaded from the wagon, a heap more lying in
the office were added, pitched on indiscriminately as the train pulled
under the sheds of the Union Station.

"I'll push," cried the Harvester, "and help you get them on."

Hurrying as fast as he could the expressman drew the heavy truck through
the iron gates and started toward the train slowing to a stop, and the
Harvester pushed. As they came do