ixter, after tying his horse to the ring driven into the trunk of one
of the eucalyptus trees, came up to the porch, and, taking off his hat,
sat down upon the steps.

"Is Harran anywhere about?" he asked. "I'd like to see Harran, too."

"No," said Mrs. Derrick, "Harran went to Bonneville early this morning."

She glanced toward Annixter nervously, without turning her head, lest
she should disturb her outspread hair.

"What is it you want to see Mr. Derrick about?" she inquired hastily.
"Is it about this plan to elect a Railroad Commission? Magnus does not
approve of it," she declared with energy. "He told me so last night."

Annixter moved about awkwardly where he sat, smoothing down with his
hand the one stiff lock of yellow hair that persistently stood up from
his crown like an Indian's scalp-lock. At once his suspicions were all
aroused. Ah! this feemale woman was trying to get a hold on him, trying
to involve him in a petticoat mess, trying to cajole him. Upon the
instant, he became very crafty; an excess of prudence promptly congealed
his natural impulses. In an actual spasm of caution, he scarcely trusted
himself to speak, terrified lest he should commit himself to something.
He glanced about apprehensively, praying that Magnus might join them
speedily, relieving the tension.

"I came to see about giving a dance in my new barn," he answered,
scowling into the depths of his hat, as though reading from notes he had
concealed there. "I wanted to ask how I should send out the invites. I
thought of just putting an ad. in the 'Mercury.'"

But as he spoke, Presley had come up behind Annixter in time to get the
drift of the conversation, and now observed:

"That's nonsense, Buck. You're not giving a public ball. You MUST send
out invitations."

"Hello, Presley, you there?" exclaimed Annixter, turning round. The two
shook hands.

"Send out invitations?" repeated Annixter uneasily. "Why must I?"

"Because that's the only way to do."

"It is, is it?" answered Annixter, perplexed and troubled. No other
man of his acquaintance could have so contradicted Annixter without
provoking a quarrel upon the instant. Why the young rancher, irascible,
obstinate, belligerent, should invariably defer to the poet, was an
inconsistency never to be explained. It was with great surprise that
Mrs. Derrick heard him continue:

"Well, I suppose you know what you're talking about, Pres. Must have
written invites, hey?"

"Of cours