he young feller. He saw these bays
last year when they took the blue ribbon and said he'd keep an eye on 'em.
They were most too fly then for crowded streets and spinning around the
boulevard 'mongst the automobiles, but they're pretty well broke now.
Steady, Nip, whoa there!"

"But," said Tisdale quietly, "young Morganstein met with an accident this
morning in Snoqualmie Pass. An axle was broken, and he was thrown out of
his machine. His leg was injured, and he took the train back to Seattle. I
happened to be on the eastbound at the siding where it all occurred."

Lighter gave him a skeptical glance between narrowed lids. "Then, if he
can't come himself, I guess he'll send his man. He told that friend of
mine he counted on having another look at this team."

Tisdale's brows contracted. "See here, I want to drive to Wenatchee; what
is the best you can do for me?"

"Why, let's see. My best livery rig is on the Wenatchee road now. One of
them High Line fellers hired the outfit with a driver to take him through
to the valley. If you'd be'n here when they started, likely they'd be'n
glad to accommodate you. And the sorrels is out with a picnic to Nanum
canyon. That leaves the roans. They come in half an hour ago. A couple of
traveling salesmen had 'em out all the forenoon, and these drummers drive
like blue blazes; and it's a mean pull through to Wenatchee. But wait till
to-morrow and, with an early start, you can make it all right with the
roans. That's the best I can do, unless you want a saddle-horse."

Tisdale walked back to the stalls and, convinced at a glance the jaded
roans were impossible for that day, at least, stopped to look over the
saddle animals. He saw that there were two promising travelers, but it
would be necessary to impress an indifferent third to carry the baggage.
Besides, judging from all he had seen, the resources of Kittitas did not
include a ready-made lady's habit. He returned and stood another silent
moment watching the lithe, impatient bays. Finally his eyes moved to the
entrance and down the road to the railroad station where Miss Armitage was
waiting. She was seated on a bench near the door. He could distinguish her
gray figure in relief against the reddish-brown wall.

Directly he swung around. "What is your price?" he asked.

Lighter's hand dropped from the edge of the buggy seat. He stepped back to
the heads of his team. "You get in, Harry," he said. "Drive 'em five or
six blocks. Ke