for inspection. "I can't straighten
it like the others, an' it's growin'. I never put it out fightin'. The
teamin's done it. That's silk gone across the counter, that's all. Ever
see a old four-horse teamster's hands? They look like claws they're that
crippled an' twisted."

"Things weren't like that in the old days when our folks crossed the
plains," she answered. "They might a-got their fingers twisted, but they
owned the best goin' in the way of horses and such."

"Sure. They worked for themselves. They twisted their fingers for
themselves. But I'm twistin' my fingers for my boss. Why, d'ye know,
Saxon, his hands is soft as a woman's that's never done any work. Yet
he owns the horses an' the stables, an' never does a tap of work, an'
I manage to scratch my meal-ticket an' my clothes. It's got my goat
the way things is run. An' who runs 'em that way? That's what I want to
know. Times has changed. Who changed 'em?"

"God didn't."

"You bet your life he didn't. An' that's another thing that gets me.
Who's God anyway? If he's runnin' things--an' what good is he if he
ain't?--then why does he let my boss, an' men like that cashier you
mentioned, why does he let them own the horses, an' buy the women, the
nice little girls that oughta be lovin' their own husbands, an' havin'
children they're not ashamed of, an' just bein' happy accordin' to their
nature?"

CHAPTER XI

The horses, resting frequently and lathered by the work, had climbed the
steep grade of the old road to Moraga Valley, and on the divide of the
Contra Costa hills the way descended sharply through the green and sunny
stillness of Redwood Canyon.

"Say, ain't it swell?" Billy queried, with a wave of his hand indicating
the circled tree-groups, the trickle of unseen water, and the summer hum
of bees.

"I love it"' Saxon affirmed. "It makes me want to live in the country,
and I never have."

"Me, too, Saxon. I've never lived in the country in my life--an' all my
folks was country folks."

"No cities then. Everybody lived in the country."

"I guess you're right," he nodded. "They just had to live in the
country."

There was no brake on the light carriage, and Billy became absorbed in
managing his team down the steep, winding road. Saxon leaned back, eyes
closed, with a feeling of ineffable rest. Time and again he shot glances
at her closed eyes.

"What's the matter?" he asked finally, in mild alarm. "You ain't sick?"

"It's so beautiful I'