ust been
around to state my case to Smith, and he agrees with my side of the
affair and promises to call down his man. Can I rely on him? Does he
mean what he says?"

"He means what he says," replied the bank president, slowly, "and you
can rely on him--until his subordinate gets a chance to talk to him."

"H'm," ruminated Welton. "Chinless, eh? I wondered why he wore long
white whiskers."

As he walked up the street toward the hotel, where he would spend the
night before undertaking the long drive back, somebody hailed him. He
looked around to see a pair of beautiful driving horses, shying
playfully against each other, coming to a stop at the curb. Their
harness was the lightest that could be devised--no blinders, no
breeching, slender, well-oiled straps; the rig they drew shone and
twinkled with bright varnish, and seemed as delicate and light as
thistledown. On the narrow seat sat a young man of thirty, covered with
an old-fashioned linen duster, wearing the wide, gray felt hat of the
country. He was a keen-faced, brown young man, with snapping black eyes.

"Hullo, Welton," said he as he brought the team to a stand; "when did
you get out of the hills?"

"How are you, Mr. Harding?" Welton returned his greeting. "Just down for
the day?"

"How are things going up your way?"

"First rate," replied Welton. "We're going ahead three bells and a
jingle. Started to saw last week."

"That's good," said Harding. "I haven't heard of one of your teams on
the road, and I began to wonder. We've got to begin deliveries on our
Los Angeles and San Pedro contracts by the first of August, and we're
depending on you."

"We'll be there," replied Welton with a laugh.

The young man laughed back.

"You'd better be, if you don't want us to come up and take your scalp,"
said he, gathering his reins.

"Guess I lay in some hair tonic so's to have a good one ready for you,"
returned Welton, as Harding nodded his farewell.

IX

Matters stood thus dependent on the efforts of Jack Orde, at Washington,
when, one evening, Baker rode in to camp and dismounted before the low
verandah of the sleeping quarters. Welton and Bob sat, chair-tilted,
awaiting the supper gong.

"Thrice hail, noble chiefs!" cried Baker, cautiously stretching out
first one sturdy leg, then the other. "Against which post can I lean my
trusty charger?"

Baker was garbed to suit the role. His boots were very thick and very
tall, and most bristly with h