ose ambition needed no restraint, his promise
was so complete--in the strong belief of the university, a belief
he could not help knowing--and that seven years to a day from his
Commencement this man was sitting on a fence rail in Indiana.

Down the road a buggy came creaking toward him, gray with dust, the top
canted permanently to one side, old and frayed, like the fat, shaggy,
gray mare that drew it; her unchecked, despondent head lowering before
her, while her incongruous tail waved incessantly, like the banner of a
storming party. The editor did not hear the flop of the mare's feet nor
the sound of the wheels, so deep was his reverie, till the vehicle was
nearly opposite him. The red-faced and perspiring driver drew rein, and
the journalist looked up and waved a long white hand to him in greeting.

"Howdy' do, Mr. Harkless?" called the man in the buggy. "Soakin' in the
weather?" He spoke in shouts, though neither was hard of hearing.

"Yes; just soaking," answered Harkless; "it's such a gypsy day. How is
Mr. Bowlder?"

"I'm givin' good satisfaction, thankye, and all at home. She's in town;
goin' in after her now."

"Give Mrs. Bowlder my regards," said the journalist, comprehending the
symbolism. "How is Hartley?"

The farmer's honest face shaded over, a second. "He's be'n steady ever
sence the night you brought him out home; six weeks straight. I'm kind
of bothered about to-morrow--It's show-day and he wants to come in town
with us, and seems if I hadn't any call to say no. I reckon he'll have
to take his chances--and us, too." He raised the reins and clucked to
the gray mare; "Well, she'll be mad I ain't there long ago. Ride in with
me?"

"No, I thank you. I'll walk in for the sake of my appetite."

"Wouldn't encourage it _too_ much--livin' at the Palace Hotel,'"
observed Bowlder. "Sorry ye won't ride." He gathered the loose ends of
the reins in his hands, leaned far over the dashboard and struck the
mare a hearty thwack; the tattered banner of tail jerked indignantly,
but she consented to move down the road. Bowlder thrust his big head
through the sun-curtain behind him and continued the conversation: "See
the White-Caps ain't got ye yet."

"No, not yet." Harkless laughed.

"Reckon the boys 'druther ye stayed in town after dark," the other
called back; then, as the mare stumbled into a trot, "Well, come out and
see us--if ye kin spare time from the jedge's." The latter clause seemed
to be an afterthou