ind of po-lite to
these little efforts of the Government--kind of want to encourage 'em.
Congressmen kind of needs coaxin' and flat'ry. They're right ornery
critters. I heard an argyment atween a feller with a hoss and a feller
with a mule onct. The mule feller was kind of uppish about hosses; said
he didn't see the advantage of the critter. A mule now was steady and
easy fed and strong. Well, ma'am, the hoss feller got kind of hot after
some of this, so he says, 'Well, sir,' he says, 'there's this about it.
When you got a hoss, you got a hoss. You know what you got. He's goin' to
act like a hoss. But when you got a mule, why, you can't never tell. All
of a sudden one of these days, he's like as not to turn into a
Congressman.' Well, ma'am, that's the way we feel about Congressmen.--Ho,
there, Monkey! Keep up! I'll just get out an' hang on the wheel while we
make this corner. That'll keep us from turnin' over, I reckon."

Sheila sat and held on with both hands. Her eyes were wide and very
bright. She held her breath till Thatcher got in again, the corner
safely made. For the next creeping, lurching mile, Sheila found that
every muscle in her body had its use in keeping her on that seat. Then
they reached the snow and matters grew definitely worse. Here, half the
road was four feet of dirty, icy drift and half of abysmal mud. They
slipped from drift to mire with awful perils and rackings of the wagon
and painful struggles of the team. Sometimes the snow softened and let
the horses in up to their necks when Thatcher plied whip and tongue with
necessary cruelty. At last there came disaster. They were making one of
those heart-stopping turns. Sheila had got out and was adding her
mosquito weight to Thatcher's on the upper side, half-walking,
half-hanging to the wagon. The outer wheels were deep in mud, the inner
wheels hung clear. The horses strained--and slipped.

"Let go!" shouted Thatcher.

Sheila fell back into the snow, and the wagon turned quietly over and
began to slide down the slope. Thatcher sprang to his horses' heads. For
an instant it seemed that they would be dragged over the edge. Then the
wagon stopped, and Thatcher, grim and pale, unhitched his team. He swore
fluently under his breath during this entire operation. Afterwards, he
turned to the scarlet and astounded passenger and gave her one of his
shining smiles.

"Well, ma'am," he said, beginning to roll a cigarette, "what do you
think of that?"

"Wh