ength before he said
slowly, "If zo be as you've 'it Blaazer, you'll 'av ter tak 'im away
yoursel'. I dussn't go near 'im; no, not wuz it ever so."

"I'm going to larrup the young limb!" cried Alloway obstinately.

"You'll 'ave to wait, then, till Blaazer gits quiet. I dussn't meddle
with 'im; an' I'm shoeing Mr. 'Utton's graay maare." And with a
natural, untrained diplomacy the blacksmith retired quickly into the
smithy.

For a minute or two Alloway cursed and Blazer barked. Then Tinker sat
quietly down on the threshold of the kennel, and fanned himself with
his hat. The empurpled Alloway grew purpler at the sight of a coolness
he did not share.

"You young rip!" he roared, dancing lightly in his exasperation, "I'll
larrup you if I stay here till to-morrow morning!"

"If you're speaking to me, Mr. Alloway, you needn't speak so loud. I'm
not deaf," said Tinker with gentle severity.

Mr. Alloway in his violent, rustic way, uttered a good many remarks
quite unfit for boyish ears.

Tinker paid no heed to him, but chirrupped to Blazer, who came to him
in a wondering sulkiness, and with many protesting growls suffered
himself to be patted. Alloway put his hands in his pockets, and stood
stolidly with his legs wide apart, a picture of florid manliness and
grim, but whiskered determination. Some small boys, heavy with their
midday meal, came to the gate of the yard, and in an idle repletion
exhausted themselves in conjectures as to the true inwardness of
Tinker's relation with Blazer, and Alloway's absorption in it. Twice
the blacksmith came to the smithy door, and a large, slow grin spread
painfully over his bovine face.

Tinker continued to pet Blazer till the surprised and mollified dog sat
down between his feet, and put his head on his knee. Then Tinker began
to apply that power of concentration in which he had been trained by
his father to the discovery of a method of final escape. Presently
Alloway went to the gate, and, climbing onto it, sat waiting for his
triumph in a stubborn doggedness.

After a while Tinker said gently, "That's a good horse you ride, Mr.
Alloway."

The farmer said nothing.

"He's young, isn't he?" said Tinker.

An acute and scornful expression of "You don't get round me!" filled
all of the farmer's face that was not covered with whiskers.

"Did you think to tie him up before you ran after me?" said Tinker
earnestly.

Alloway sprang from the gate as though a very sharp