've got to take him by the buggy, if he is no good. I won't
let Jake drive him around the trains, and he won't let Jake go with
him out to Rigg's Corners, so you'll have to take the gray and the
buggy and go." The Swede began a sullen protest, but the proprietor
shouted back to him, "You'll do this or leave," and walked in.

Nels went then into the stable, smiling quietly. He was well satisfied
with the arrangement. "Shake, you put dot big horse by de buggy. No.
Tak' d'oder bridle. I don't drive heem mit ol' bridle; he yoomp too
quvick yet. All tam yoomping, dot horse."

Presently Nels drove round to the front of the hotel with the gray
horse and a high-top buggy. Harry King regarded him closely as he
passed, but Nels looked straight ahead. A boy came out carrying
Stiles' heavy valise.

"Put that in behind here," said Stiles, as he climbed in and seated
himself at Nels Nelson's side. The gray leaped forward on the instant
with so sudden a jump that he caught at his hat and missed it. Harry
King stepped down and picked it up.

"What ails your horse?" he asked, as he restored it to its owner.

"Oh, not'in'. He lak yoomp a little." And again the horse leaped
forward, taking them off at a frantic pace, the high-topped buggy
atilt as they turned the corner of the street into the country road.
Harry King returned to his seat. Surely it was the Scandinavian who
had walked down from the bluff with him the evening before. There was
no mistaking that soft, drawling voice.

"See here! You pull your beast down, I want to talk with you. Hi!
There goes my hat again. Can't you control him better than that? Let
me out." Nels pulled the animal down with a powerful arm, and he stood
quietly enough while G. B. Stiles climbed down and walked back for his
hat. "Look here! Can you manage the beast, or can't you?" he asked as
he stood beside the vehicle and wiped the dust from his soft black
felt with his sleeve. "If you can't, I'll walk."

"Oh, yas, I feex heem. I leek heem goot ven ve coom to place nobody
see me."

"I guess that's what ails him now. You've done that before."

"Yas, bot if you no lak I leek heem, ust you yoomp in und I lat heem
run goot for two, t'ree mile. Dot feex heem all right."

"I don't know about that. Sure you can hold him?"

"Yas, I hol' heem so goot he break hee's yaw off, if he don't stop ven
I tol' heem. Now, quvick. Whoa! Yoomp in."

G. B. Stiles scrambled in with unusual agility for him, and again