The next morning James was awakened by loud voices coming from the

vicinity of the stable. He had not slept very well, and now at dawn felt

drowsy, but the voices would not let him sleep. He rose, dressed, and

went out in the stable-yard. There he found Doctor Gordon, Aaron, and a

strange man, small, and red-haired, and thin-faced, with shifty eyes,

holding by the bridle a fine black horse.

"Don't want to buy a horse with a bridle on," Doctor Gordon was saying

as James appeared.

"Do you think I'm the man to bear insults?" inquired the little

red-haired man with fierceness.

"Insult nothing. It is business," said Gordon.

"That's so," Aaron said, chewing and eyeing the black horse and the

red-haired man thoughtfully.

"Well," said the little red-haired man with an air at once of injured

innocence and ferocity, "if you want to know why I object to selling

this horse without a bridle, come here, and I'll show you." Gordon and

Aaron and James approached. The red-haired man slipped the bridle, and

underneath it appeared a small sore. "There, that's the reason, and I'll

tell you the truth," said the man defiantly. "Here I am trying to sell

this darned critter; paid a cool hundred for him, and everybody says

jest as you do, won't buy him with the bridle on. Then I takes off the

bridle, and they sees this little bile, and there's an end to it. I

suppose it's the same with you. Well, good day, gentlemen. You're losin'

a darned good trade, but it ain't my fault. Here's an animal I paid a

cool hundred for, and I'm offering him for ninety. I'm ten dollars out,

besides my time."

"Let me see that sore again," said Gordon. He slipped the bridle and

examined the place carefully. Then he looked hard at the horse, which

stood with great docility, although he held his head proudly. He was a

fine beast, glossy black in color, and had a magnificent tail.

"Make it eighty-five," said Gordon.

"Couldn't think of it."

"I don't know as I want the horse anyway," said Gordon.

"I'll call it eighty-seven and a half," said the little red-haired man.

Gordon stood still for a moment. Then he pulled out his wallet.

"Eighty-six and call it square," he said.

"All right," said the red-haired man. "It's a-givin' of him away, but

I'm so darned tired of trampin' the country with him, that I'll call it

eighty-six, and it's the biggest bargain you ever got in your life in

the way of horse flesh. I wouldn't let him go at that figure, but my

wife's sick, and I want to get home."

The red-haired man carefully counted over the roll of bank-notes which

Doctor Gordon gave him, although it seemed to James that he used some

haste. He also thought that he was evidently anxious to be gone. He

refused Gordon's offer of breakfast, saying that he had already had some

at the hotel. Then he was gone, walking with uncommon speed for such a

small man. Aaron, James, and Doctor Gordon stood contemplating the new

purchase. James patted him. "He looks like a fine animal," he remarked.

Aaron shifted his quid, and said with emphasis, "Want me to hitch up and

bring that little red-haired cuss back?"

"Why, what for?" asked Doctor Gordon. "I guess I have made a good trade,

Aaron."

"You mark my words, there's somethin' out," said Aaron dogmatically.

"I guess you're wrong this time," said Doctor Gordon, laughing. "Come,

Elliot, it is time for breakfast, and we have to drive to Wardville

afterward for that fever case."

James followed Gordon into the dining-room. Clemency said good morning

almost rudely, then she hid her face behind the coffee-urn. Gordon

glanced at her and smiled tenderly, but the girl did not see it. James

never looked her way at all. She turned the coffee with apparent

concentration. She did not dare look at either of the two men. She had

never felt so disturbedly happy and so shy. She had not slept all night,

she was so agitated with happiness, but this morning she showed no

traces of sleeplessness. There was an unwonted color on her little fair

face, and her blue eyes were like jewels under her drooping lids.

They were nearly through breakfast when the door which led into the

kitchen was abruptly thrown open, and Aaron stood there. In his hand he

flourished dramatically a great streaming mass of black. "Told you so,"

he observed with a certain triumph. The others stared at him.

"What on earth is that?" asked Gordon.

"That new horse's tail; it comes off," replied Aaron with brevity. Then

he chewed.

"Comes off?"

Aaron nodded, still chewing.

Gordon rose from the table saying something under his breath.

"That ain't all," said Aaron, still with an air of sly triumph.

"What else, for Heaven's sake?" cried Gordon.

"Well, he cribs," replied Aaron laconically. Then he chewed.

"That was why he didn't want to take the bridle off?"

Aaron nodded.

Gordon stood staring for a second, then he burst into a peal of

laughter. "Bless me if I ever got so regularly done," said he. "Say,

Aaron, that was a smart chap. He has talent, he has."

"Aren't you going to try to find him?" asked James.

"Well, we'll keep a lookout on the way to Wardville," said Gordon; "and,

Aaron, you may as well put the chestnut in the old buggy and drive

Stanbridge way, and see if you can get sight of him."

"He's had a half-hour's start," said Aaron. "You might track a fox, but

you can't him."

"I guess you are about right," said Gordon, "but we'll do all we can.

However, I think I'll try to get even with Sam Tucker. It's a good

chance. I'll drive the new horse to Wardville. Aaron, you just tie that

tail on again, and fasten it up so as to keep it out of the mud."

Aaron grinned. "Goin' to get even for that white horse?"

"I'm going to try it."

Gordon was all interest. James regarded him as he had done so many times

before with wonder. That such a man should have such powers of

assimilation astounded him. He was actually as amused and interested in

being done, as he called it, and in trying in his turn to wipe off some

old score, as any countryman. He seemed, to the young man, to have

little burrows like some desperate animal, into which he could dive, and

be completely away from his enemies, and even from himself, when he

chose.

He hurriedly drank the remainder of his coffee, and was in his office

getting his medicine-case ready. James lingered, in the hopes of

getting a word and a kiss from Clemency. But the child, the moment her

uncle went out, fled. It was odd. She wanted to stay and have a minute

with James alone more than she had ever wanted anything, but it was for

just that very reason that she ran away.

James felt hurt. At that time, the mind of a girl, and its shy workings,

were entirely beyond his comprehension. He saw no earthly reason why

Clemency should have avoided him. He followed Gordon with rather a

downcast face into the office, and begun assisting him with his

medicines. Gordon himself was too full of interest in the horse trade to

remark anything. At times he chuckled to himself. Now and then he would

burst out anew in a great peal of laughter. "Hang it all! I don't like

to be done any better than any other man, but that little red-haired

scamp was clever and no mistake," he said, "showing me that little sore.

I believe he had sandpapered the poor beast on purpose. He took me in as

neatly as I ever saw anything done in my life. Well, Elliot, you wait

and see me get even with Sam Tucker. I have been waiting my chance.

About two years ago he worked me, and not half as cleverly as this

either. He made me feel that I was a fool. The red-haired one needed the

devil himself to get round him, and see through his little game. Sam

Tucker sold me, or rather traded with me a veritable fiend of a horse

for an old mare. The mare was old, but she had a lot of go in her, and

was sound, and the other, well, Sam had bought him for a song, because

nobody would drive him, and he had killed two men. He was a white horse

with as wicked an eye as you ever saw, and ears always cocked for

mischief, like the arch fiend's horns. Well, Sam, he made some kind of a

dye, and he actually dyed that animal a beautiful chestnut, and traded

him for my old mare. I even paid a little to boot. Well, next morning I

sent Aaron down to the store in a soaking rain, and the horse bolted at

a white rock beside the road, and the buggy was knocked into kindling

wood. Aaron wasn't hurt. He always comes out right side up. But when he

came leading that snorting, dancing beast home, the chestnut dye was

pretty well off, and I knew him in a minute. Well, he was shot, and I

was my old mare and some money out. I wasn't going to have men's lives

on my conscience. But this is another matter. Now I've got my chance to

get even, and I'm going to get my old mare back."

Presently the two men were out on the road driving the black horse. He

went well enough, and seemed afraid of nothing. "There's not much the

matter with this animal except the tail and the cribbing, I guess," said

the doctor. "As for the tail, that is simply a question of ornament and

taste. The cribbing is more serious, of course, but I guess Sam Tucker

won't be in any danger of his life." They had not gone far before the

doctor drew up before a farmhouse on the left. A man with a serious

face, thin and wiry, was coming around the house with a wheelbarrowful

of potatoes. "Hullo, Sam!" called Doctor Gordon. The man left his barrow

and came alongside. James could see that he had a keen eye upon the

horse. "Fine morning," said the doctor.

Sam Tucker gave a grunt by way of assent. He was niggardly with speech.

"Have you got any more of those Baldwin apples to sell?" asked Doctor

Gordon, to James's intense surprise.

Sam Tucker looked reflectively at the doctor for a full minute, then

gave utterance to a monosyllable. "Bar'l."

"So you've got a barrel to sell," said Gordon.

Sam nodded.

"Well, I'll send my man over for them. They are mighty fine apples, and

Emma said yesterday that we were about out. I suppose they are the same

price."

Sam nodded.

"Seems as if you might take off a little, it is so late, and you might

have them spoiling on your hands," said Gordon, and James began to

wonder if they had come to drive a sharp bargain on apples instead of

horses.

Sam shook his head emphatically. "Same," he said.

"Well, I suppose I've got to pay it if you ask it," said Gordon. "I

can't buy any such apples elsewhere. You've got it your way. I'll send

the money over by Aaron." Doctor Gordon gathered up the reins, but Sam

Tucker seemed to experience a sudden convulsion all over his lank body.

"Horse," he said.

Doctor Gordon drove on a yard, but Sam, running alongside, he stopped.

"Yes," he said placidly, "horse. What do you think of him?"

Sam said nothing. He looked at the horse.

"He's the biggest bargain I ever got," said Gordon. "I am going to hang

on to him. Once in a while there is an honest deal in horses. I am not

bringing up anything, Sam. I believe in letting bygones be bygones,

although you did risk my life and my man's. But this time I am all

right." Gordon gathered up the reins again, and again Sam Tucker stopped

him. James barely saw the man's mouth move. He could not hear that he

said anything, but a peculiar glow of eager greed lit up his long face,

and Gordon seemed to understand him perfectly. "You can take your oath

not," he said brusquely. "What do you take me for? You have stuck me

once, and now you think you are going to do it again. You can bet your

life you are not." Again he gathered up the reins. Sam Tucker's face

gleamed like a coal. James saw for the first time in its entirety the

trading instinct rampant. Again Gordon seemed to understand what had

apparently not been spoken. "No, Sam Tucker," he declared almost

brutally, "I will not trade back for that old mare you cheated me out

of, not if you were to give me your whole farm to boot. I know that old

mare. I wasn't the only one that got stuck. She's got the heaves. I know

her. No, sir, you don't do me again. I've got a good horse this time,

and I mean to hang on to him."

Again Gordon attempted to drive on, and once more Sam stopped him. James

felt at last fairly dizzy, when he heard the farmer almost beg Gordon to

trade horses, offer him twenty-five dollars to boot, and the apples. He

sat in the buggy watching while the mare was led out of the stable, the

black horse was taken out of the traces, and the bridle was left on

without a remonstrance on Sam's part, and exchanged for a much newer

one, while twenty-five dollars in dirty bank-notes were carefully

counted out by Sam, and then Gordon jumped into the buggy and drove off.

He was quivering with suppressed mirth. "The biter is bitten this time,"

he said as soon as he was out of hearing of Sam Tucker. Then he made an

exclamation of dismay.

"What's the matter?" asked James.

"Well, I have left my whip. I must risk it and go back. I paid a lot for

that whip."

Gordon turned and drove back at a sharp trot. When they came alongside

the farm fence James saw the whip lying on the ground, and jumped out to

get it. He was back in the buggy, and they were just proceeding on

their way, when there was a shout, and Sam Tucker came rushing around

the house, and held the horse's tail as Aaron had done in the morning.

"Comes off," he gasped.

"Of course," said the doctor coolly. "I didn't say it didn't. It's for

convenience in muddy weather."

"Cribs," gasped Sam Tucker.

"Yes, a little," said Gordon. "Keep him away from hitching-posts. You

didn't say you wanted a horse to hitch. He never cribs when he's driven.

Good-day, Sam."

Gordon and James were off again. Gordon was doubled up with merriment,

in which James joined. "I'm glad to get behind old Fanny once more,"

said Gordon. "She's worth two of that other animal! Clemency will be

glad to see her again. She felt badly when I traded her. In fact, I

wouldn't have done it if I had known how much the child cared for the

mare. She used to drive her a lot and pet her. I think it will be

perfectly safe for you to take Clemency out driving when there isn't a

moon. Fanny is pretty fast when she is touched with the whip, and,

though she's gentle, she hasn't much use for strangers. I don't think

she would stand a stranger at her head. I think you may go out to-night,

if you like. Poor Clemency needs the air. We'll use the team this

afternoon, and Fanny will be fresh by evening."

James colored. He remembered how Clemency had avoided him that morning.

"Perchance she won't care to go," he said.

"Of course, she will," said Gordon. "She will go, and I want her to, but

you must always bear in mind what I told you last night, and--" he

hesitated. "Don't do your utmost to make the poor little thing think you

are the moon and sun and stars in case you should change your mind," he

finished.

"I shall never change my mind," James said hotly.

"You will be justified if you do," Gordon said gravely. "Perhaps you

will not. But you are old enough, and ought to have self-command enough

to keep your head, and shield the poor child against possible

contingencies. You have not known each other very long. It is not

possible that she would die of it now, nor you. If you can only keep

your head, and meander along the path of love instead of plunging into

bottomless depths, it will be better for both of you. I know what I am

talking about. I am old enough to be your father. Go slow, for God's

sake, if you care about the girl."

"She is the whole world to me," said James.

"Then, go slow! It will be better for her if you are not the whole world

to her, until you know what a day may bring forth."

"I don't care what a day brings forth."

"You are tempting the gods?" said Gordon. "Elliot, you don't know what

you are talking about. I am not treating you fairly not to tell you the

whole story, but I don't see my way clear. You must bear in mind what I

say. I did not think of any such complication when you came here. I was

a fool not to. I know what young people are, and Clemency is a darling,

and you have your good points. The amount of it is, if I don't get stuck

by Sam Tucker in a horse trade, Fate sticks me in something bigger. I

don't see the inevitable, I suppose, because I am so close to it that it

is like facing the wall of a precipice all the time. We have to stop

here. The woman's daughter is coming down with a fever, which will not

kill her, and she will have it to brag of all her life. She will date

all earthly events from this fever. Whoa, Fanny!"

That evening James and Clemency went for a drive. It was a clear night,

but dark, save for the stars. Clemency had a thick veil over her face,

which seemed entirely unnecessary. Directly as they started, she made a

little involuntary nestling motion toward the young man at her side. It

was as innocent as the nestling of a baby. James put his arm around her.

He thought with indignation of Doctor Gordon's warning, as if anything

in the world could cause him to change his mind about this dear child

who loved him. "You darling!" he whispered. "So you have not thought

better of it."

"What do you mean?" Clemency whispered back.

"Why, dear, you have fairly run away from me all day long."

"I was afraid," Clemency whispered, then she put her head against his

shoulder, and laughed a delicious little laugh. "I never was in love

before, and I don't know how to act," said she.

"Put up your veil," said James.

"Why?"

"I want a kiss."

Clemency put up her veil obediently and kissed him like a child. Then

there was a sudden flash of light from a lantern, and a dark form was

at the mare's head. But she was true to her master's opinion of her. She

gave a savage duck at the man and started violently, so that James was

forced to release Clemency and devote his entire attention to driving.

Clemency shrank close to him, shivering like one in a chill. "He saw

me," she gasped. "It was that same man, and this time he saw me."




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