he pony was covered with perspiration
and its nostrils were dilated. As the rider passed an intersecting street
in the heart of the town, the little animal made a turn as if preferring
another route. The Count threw it on its haunches and headed it on down
the street at renewed speed.

A little later, having visited the post office, Norman and Roy came out
just in time to see young Zept whirling his exhausted mount into a livery
stable. When the boys reached this, they found the proprietor, who from
his sign was a Frenchman, and Paul in a heated argument. It was in
vociferous French and in the course of it the boys saw young Zept
excitedly tear a bill from a roll of money in his hand and hurl it on the
floor of the barn. The proprietor, hurling French epithets at his
customer, kicked the money aside.

Norman pushed his way between the spectators and with assumed jocularity
demanded to know the cause of dispute. In broken English, the liveryman
exclaimed:

"He is no gentleman. He kills my horse. For that he shall pay two dollars
more."

"Well, what's the matter?" went on Norman laughing. "Isn't that enough?
There's your money," and he picked up a Canadian ten-dollar bill and
handed it to the owner of the pony.

"His money is nussing," retorted the pony owner. "He is no gentleman."

The absurdity of this must have appealed to young Zept. Perhaps the
presence of his two companions somewhat shamed him.

"Don't have a row," broke in Roy. "The colonel's sure to hear of it."

The Count turned again to the excited Frenchman and began another torrent
of apparent explanation, but it was in a different tone. He was now suave
and polite. As he talked he held out his hand to the proprietor of the
stable and smiled.

"He's been drinking again," whispered Roy to Norman, a fact which was
quite apparent to the latter.

Then to the surprise of both boys, with Norman still holding the money in
his hand, the excited Frenchman grasped his customer's hand, and he and
Paul hurried from the barn. A block away, the disturbed Norman and Roy
saw the two men arm in arm disappear behind the swinging door of the big
hotel bar room. Ascertaining the amount of their friend's bill from one
of the stable employees, Norman paid it and he and his companion left.

That evening, Norman handed Paul five dollars he had received in change
and the incident was closed.

For three more days the loading of the scows continued slowly. It finally
beca