ep your eyes open."

Harry gathered the reins warily and sprang in; Lighter released his hold,
then hurried forward to the driveway and stood with Tisdale watching the
team. "Ain't they a sight?" he said.

And they were. Their coats shone like satin in the sun; they stepped
airily, spurning the dust of Kittitas, and blew the ashen powder from
their nostrils; then without warning the splendid span was away.

Tisdale repeated: "What is your price?"

Lighter's shrewd eyes swept his new customer over; it was as though he
made an estimate of how much Tisdale could pay. "Five hundred dollars," he
said. "Five hundred--if it's spot cash."

"And the outfit?"

"Let me see. Harness is practically new; buggy first-class. I'll make it
an even seven hundred for the whole business; outfit and team."

There was a brief silence. As a rule, a man drawing the salary of the
Geological Survey does not spend seven hundred dollars lightly. He bridles
his impulses to own fine driving-horses until at least he has tried them.
And this sum, just at that time, meant something of a drain on Tisdale's
bank account. He knew if he bought the Weatherbee tract and reclaimed it,
he must hedge on his personal expenses for a year or two; he had even
talked with Banks a little about a loan to open the project and keep it
moving until the next season's clean-up, when the Aurora should make good.
He stirred, with a quick upward lift of his head, and looked once more in
the direction of the station.

The girl rose and began to walk the platform.

Tisdale swung back and met the trader's calculating gaze. "Where is your
bank?" he asked.

The business was quickly transacted and, when Lighter and his customer
stepped out of the bank, Harry was there, driving the bays slowly up and
down the street. In the moment they waited for him to draw up, the trader
looked Tisdale over again. "Your easiest way to get this team over to the
Sound is to drive through Snoqualmie Pass, the way you came."

"But," said Tisdale, knitting his brows, "I told you I wanted this team to
drive to the Wenatchee valley."

"You can't drive on through the Cascades from there and, if you try to
ship these colts aboard a Great Northern train, you'll have trouble."

"I shall probably leave them to winter in the valley. Unless"--Tisdale
paused, smiling at the afterthought--"I decide to sell them to young
Morganstein when I get back to Seattle."

Lighter laughed dryly. "I thought so.