t; but I guess Mr. Atwell will
know." The clerk called to the landlord, who was smoking in his private
room behind the office, and the landlord came out. The clerk repeated Mr.
Lander's questions.

"Pootty good kind of folks, I guess," said the landlord provisionally,
through his cigar-smoke. "Man's a kind of univussal genius, but he's got
a nice family of children; smaht as traps, all of 'em."

"How about that oldest gul?" asked Mr. Lander.

"Well, the'a," said the landlord, taking the cigar out of his mouth. "I
think she's about the nicest little thing goin'. We've had her up he'e,
to help out in a busy time, last summer, and she's got moo sense than
guls twice as old. Takes hold like--lightnin'."

"About how old did you say she was?"

"Well, you've got me the'a, Mr. Landa; I guess I'll ask Mis' Atwell."

"The'e's no hurry," said Lander. "That buckboa'd be round pretty soon?"
he asked of the clerk.

"Be right along now, Mr. Lander," said the clerk, soothingly. He stepped
out to the platform that the teams drove up to from the stable, and came
back to say that it was coming. "I believe you said you wanted something
you could drive yourself?"

"No, I didn't, young man," answered the elder sharply. But the next
moment he added, "Come to think of it, I guess it's just as well. You
needn't get me no driver. I guess I know the way well enough. You put me
in a hitchin' strap."

"All right, Mr. Lander," said the clerk, meekly.

The landlord had caught the peremptory note in Lander's voice, and he
came out of his room again to see that there was nothing going wrong.

"It's all right," said Lander, and went out and got into his buckboard.

"Same horse you had yesterday," said the young clerk. "You don't need to
spare the whip."

"I guess I can look out for myself," said Lander, and he shook the reins
and gave the horse a smart cut, as a hint of what he might expect.

The landlord joined the clerk in looking after the brisk start the horse
made. "Not the way he set off with the old lady, yesterday," suggested
the clerk.

The landlord rolled his cigar round in his tubed lips. "I guess he's used
to ridin' after a good hoss." He added gravely to the clerk, "You don't
want to make very free with that man, Mr. Pane. He won't stan' it, and
he's a class of custom that you want to cata to when it comes in your
way. I suspicioned what he was when they came here and took the highest
cost rooms without tu'nin' a haia. The