t's all."

He walked leisurely into the shady, cool place of pungent odors. He had
just ascertained that the proprietor was out when his attention was
attracted by a dog which lay with perfect complacency under a rather
good-looking horse.

"A pretty dangerous place, isn't it?" he asked of the stable-boy.

"You _would_ think so, wouldn't you? But it isn't. They're friends. You'll
always find them together when they can get together. When Prince--that's
the horse--is out anywhere, we have to pen old Mose up to keep him from
following. Once when a fellow hired Prince to make a trip over to
Spofford, old Mose got out, two or three hours later, and followed him all
the way over. He came back with him the next day, grinning as if he'd done
something great. We never could figure out how old Mose knew where he had
gone. Might have smelled out his trail. Or he might have heard them
talking about going to Spofford, and understood. The more you know about
dogs the less you know about them--same as humans."

He went back farther into the stable and busied himself with a harness
that needed mending.

Harboro was looking after him with peculiar intensity. He looked at the
horse, which stood sentinel-like, above the drowsing dog. Then he engaged
the stable-boy in further conversation.

"A pretty good-looking horse, too," he said. And when the boy nodded
without enthusiasm, he added: "By the way, I suppose it's usually your job
to get horses ready when people want them?"

"Yes, mostly."

Harboro put a new note of purposefulness into his voice. "I believe you
send a horse around for Mrs. Harboro occasionally?"

"Oh, yes; every week or so, or oftener."

Harboro walked to the boy's side and drew his wallet from his pocket
deliberately. "I wish," he said, "that the next time Mrs. Harboro needs a
horse you'd send this fine animal to her. I have an idea it would please
her. Will you remember?" He produced a bank-note and placed it slowly in
the boy's hand.

The boy looked up at him dubiously, and then understood. "I'll remember,"
he said.

Harboro turned away, but at the entrance he stopped. "You'd understand, of
course, that the dog wouldn't be allowed to go along," he called back.

"Oh, yes. Old Mose would be penned up. I'd see to it."

"And I suppose," said Harboro finally, "that if I'd telephone to you any
day it wouldn't take you long to get a horse ready for me, would it? I've
been thinking of using a horse a little m