ed
wagon stood with lowered pole before a store, but it was a particularly
bitter afternoon, and there was nobody out of doors. The place looked
desolate and forlorn, with a leaden sky hanging over it and an icy wind
sweeping through the streets.

Hawtrey strode along briskly until he reached the open space which
divided the little wooden town from the unfenced railroad track. It was
strewn with fine dusty snow, and the huge bulk of the grain elevators
towered high above it against the lowering sky. A freight locomotive was
just hauling a long string of wheat cars out of a sidetrack. The
locomotive stopped presently, and though Hawtrey could not see anything
beyond the big cars, he knew by the shouts which broke out that
something unusual was going on. He was expecting Sally, who was going
east to Brandon by a train due in an hour or two.

When the shouts grew a little louder he walked around in front of the
locomotive, which stood still with the steam blowing noisily from a
valve, and he saw the cause of the commotion. A pair of vicious,
half-broken bronchos were backing a light wagon away from the locomotive
on the other side of the track, and a fur-wrapped figure sat stiffly on
the driving seat. Hawtrey called out and ran suddenly forward as he saw
that it was Sally who was in peril.

Just then one of the horses lifted its fore hoofs off the ground, and
being jerked back by the pole plunged and kicked furiously, until the
other horse flung up its head and the wagon went backward with a run.
Then they stopped, and there was a series of resounding crashes against
the front of the vehicle. Hawtrey was within a pace or two of the wagon
when Sally recognized him.

"Keep off," she cried, "you can't lead them! They don't want to cross
the track, but they've got to if I pull the jaws off them."

This was more forcible than elegant, and the shrill harshness of the
girl's voice jarred upon Hawtrey, though he was getting accustomed to
Sally's phraseology. He understood that she would not have his help,
even if it would have been of much avail, which was doubtful, and he
reluctantly moved back toward the group of loungers who were watching
her.

"I guess you've no call to worry about her," said one of the men. "She's
holding them on the lowest notch, and it's a mighty powerful bit fixing.
Besides, that girl could drive anything that goes on four legs."

"Sure," said one of the others. "She's a daisy."

Hawtrey was anno