om side to side like a sailor as he went
swinging about his work. It seemed, indeed, that he must have taken to a
horse very early in life, while his legs were yet plastic, for they had
set to the curve of the animal's barrel like the bark on a tree.

His black hair was cut short, all except a forelock like a horse,
leaving his big ears naked and unframed. These turned away from his head
as if they had been frosted and wilted, and if ears ever stood as an
index to generosity in this world the camp cook's at once pronounced him
the most liberal man to be met between the mountains and the sea. His
features were small, his mustache and eyebrows large, his nose sharp
and thin, his eyes blue, and as bright and merry as a June day.

He wore a blue wool shirt, new and clean, with a bright scarlet necktie
as big as a hand of tobacco; and a green velvet vest, a galloping horse
on his heavy gold watch-chain, and great, loose, baggy corduroy
trousers, like a pirate of the Spanish Main. These were folded into
expensive, high-heeled, quilted-topped boots, and, in spite of his
trade, there was not a spot of grease or flour on him anywhere to be
seen.

Lambert noted the humorous glances which passed from eye to eye, and the
sly winks that went round the circle of cross-legged men with tin plates
between their knees as they looked now and then at his bicycle leaning
close by against a tree. But the exactions of hospitality appeared to
keep down both curiosity and comment during the meal. Nobody asked him
where he came from, what his business was, or whither he was bound,
until the last plate was pitched into the box, the last cup drained of
its black, scalding coffee.

It was one of the elders who took it up then, after he had his pipe
going and Lambert had rolled a cigarette from the proffered pouch.

"What kind of a horse is that you're ridin', son?" he inquired.

"Have a look at it," Lambert invited, knowing that the machine was new
to most, if not all, of them. He led the way to the bicycle, they
unlimbering from their squatting beside the wagon and following.

He took the case containing his unprofitable wares from the handlebars
and turned the bicycle over to them, offering no explanations on its
peculiarities or parts, speaking only when they asked him, in horse
parlance, with humor that broadened as they put off their reserve. On
invitation to show its gait he mounted it, after explaining that it had
stepped on a nail an