s, not knowing what they were at the
time.

"When I showed up at home my stepfather was tearing mad. He licked me
good and had me sent to the reform school. I ran away from there after a
while and struck the Perkins farm. That's where I got to know Blue
Blazes. After my row with Perkins I drifted about a lot until I got work
in this very furniture factory," whereupon Lafe swept a comprehensive
hand about, indicating the sumptuously appointed office.

"Well, I worked here until I saw them take off the cars a lot of those
knots just like the ones I'd seen on the trees up in that swamp. 'What
are them things?' says I to the foreman.

"'Burls,' says he.

"'Worth anything?' says I.

"'Are they?' says he. 'They're the most expensive pieces of wood you can
find anywhere in this country. Them's what we saw up into veneers.'

"That was enough for me. I had a talk with the president of the company.
'If you can locate that swamp, young man,' says he, 'and it's got in it
what you say it has, I'll help you to make your fortune."

"So I started up the lake to find the swamp. That's how I come to run
across Blue Blazes again. How he came to be there I couldn't guess and
didn't find out for months. He was as glad to see me as I was to see
him. They told me afterward that he was a man-killer. Man-killer
nothing! Why, I rode that horse for over a hundred miles down the
lake-shore with not a sign of a bridle on him.

"Of course, he don't seem to like other men much, and he did lay up one
or two of my hostlers before I understood him. You see"--here Mr. Lafe,
furniture magnate, flushed consciously--"I can't have any but red-headed
men--red-headed like me, you know--about my stable, on account of Blue
Blazes. Course, it's foolish, but I guess the old fellow had a tough
time of it when he was young, same as I did; and now--well, he just
suits me, Blue Blazes does. I'd rather ride or drive him than any
thoroughbred in this country; and, by jinks, I'm bound he gets whatever
he wants, even if I have to lug in a lot of red-headed men from other
States."

CHIEFTAIN

A STORY OF THE HEAVY DRAUGHT SERVICE

He was a three-quarter blood Norman, was Chieftain. You would have known
that by his deep, powerful chest, his chunky neck, his substantial,
shaggy-fetlocked legs. He had a family tree, registered sires, you know,
and, had he wished, could have read you a pedigree reaching back to Sir
Navarre (6893).

Despite all this, Chie