then, her glance falling to the basket at her feet, she bent and took the
largest apple. "Did you ever see such a marvel?" she asked. "It came from
that station master's orchard in the Wenatchee valley. He called it a Rome
Beauty. Divide it, please; let us see if the flavor is all it promises."

"If it is"--and Tisdale took the apple and felt in his pocket for his
knife--"the ground that grew the tree is a bonanza." He waited another
moment, watching the changing color in her face, then turned and walked to
the upper end of the caboose, where he deliberately selected a stool which
he brought forward to the door. Her confusion puzzled him. Had she been
about to confess, as he had at first conjectured, that Miss Armitage was
an incognito used to satisfy the _Press_ reporter and so avoid publicity?
It was clear she had thought better of the impulse, and he told himself,
as he took the seat beside her and opened his knife, he was to have no
more of her confidence than Jimmie Daniels.

CHAPTER VI

NIP AND TUCK

Bailey was right; the colts were beauties. But at the time Tisdale arrived
at the Kittitas stables, Lighter, having decided to drive them to North
Yakima, was putting the pair to a smart buggy. They were not for hire at
double or treble the usual day rate.

"I want to sell this team," the trader repeated flatly. "I don't want to
winter 'em again, and my best chance to show 'em is now, down at the fair.
I can keep 'em in good shape, making it in two stages and resting 'em over
night on the road, and be there by noon to-morrow."

One of the horses reared, lifting the stable-boy off his feet, and Lighter
sprang to take the bit in his powerful grasp. "Steady, Tuck, steady! Whoa,
whoa, back now, back, steady, whoa!" The animal stood, frothing a little,
his beautiful coat moist, every muscle tense. "See there, now! Ain't he
peaceable? Nothing mean under his whole hide; just wants to go. The other
one will nip your fingers once in a while, if you don't watch out, but he
don't mean anything, either; it's all in fun."

He gave his place to the boy again and stepped back to Tisdale's side,
still watching his team, while a second stableman hurried to fasten the
traces. "The fact is," he went on, dropping his voice confidentially,
"I've got wind of a customer. He's driving through from the Sound to the
races in his machine. A friend of mine wired me. Mebbe you know him. It's
one of those Morgansteins of Seattle; t