the time it clears up and we can start traveling."

CHAPTER V

Early on Monday morning, three days later, Saxon and Billy took an
electric car to the end of the line, and started a second time for San
Juan. Puddles were standing in the road, but the sun shone from a blue
sky, and everywhere, on the ground, was a faint hint of budding green.
At Benson's Saxon waited while Billy went in to get his six dollars for
the three days' plowing.

"Kicked like a steer because I was quittin'," he told her when he came
back. "He wouldn't listen at first. Said he'd put me to drivin' in a
few days, an' that there wasn't enough good four-horse men to let one go
easily."

"And what did you say?"

"Oh, I just told 'm I had to be movin' along. An' when he tried to argue
I told 'm my wife was with me, an' she was blamed anxious to get along."

"But so are you, Billy."

"Sure, Pete; but just the same I wasn't as keen as you. Doggone it, I
was gettin' to like that plowin'. I'll never be scairt to ask for a job
at it again. I've got to where I savvy the burro, an' you bet I can plow
against most of 'm right now."

An hour afterward, with a good three miles to their credit, they edged
to the side of the road at the sound of an automobile behind them. But
the machine did not pass. Benson was alone in it, and he came to a stop
alongside.

"Where are you bound?" he inquired of Billy, with a quick, measuring
glance at Saxon.

"Monterey--if you're goin' that far," Billy answered with a chuckle.

"I can give you a lift as far as Watsonville. It would take you several
days on shank's mare with those loads. Climb in." He addressed Saxon
directly. "Do you want to ride in front?"

Saxon glanced to Billy.

"Go on," he approved. "It's fine in front.--This is my wife, Mr.
Benson--Mrs. Roberts."

"Oh, ho, so you're the one that took your husband away from me," Benson
accused good humoredly, as he tucked the robe around her.

Saxon shouldered the responsibility and became absorbed in watching him
start the car.

"I'd be a mighty poor farmer if I owned no more land than you'd plowed
before you came to me," Benson, with a twinkling eye, jerked over his
shoulder to Billy.

"I'd never had my hands on a plow but once before," Billy confessed.
"But a fellow has to learn some time."

"At two dollars a day?"

"If he can get some alfalfa artist to put up for it," Billy met him
complacently.

Benson laughed heartily.

"You're a quick