y went across the track at a
gallop, hurling great clods of mud left and right, while the group of
loungers who still stood about the station raised a shout.

"Got any little pictures with nice motters on them?" asked one, and
another flung a piece of information after the jolting waggon.

"There's a Swede down at Branker's wants a bottle that will supple up a
wooden leg," he said.

Sproatly grinned, and waved his hand to them before he turned to his
companion.

"We have to get through before dark, if possible, or I'd stop and sell
them something sure," he said. "Parts of the trail further on are
simply horrible."

It occurred to Winifred that it was far from excellent as it was, for
spouts of mud flew up beneath the sinking hoofs and wheels, and she was
already getting unpleasantly spattered.

"You think you would have succeeded?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," said Sproatly. "If I couldn't plant something on to them
when they'd given me a lead like that, I'd be no use in this business.
At present, my command of Western phraseology is my fortune."

"You sell things, then?"

Sproatly pointed to a couple of big boxes in the bottom of the waggon.
"Anything from cough cure to hair restorer, besides a general purpose
elixir that's specially prepared for me. It's adaptable to any
complaint and season. All you have to do"--and he lowered his voice
confidentially--"is to put on a different label."

Winifred, who had not felt like it a little earlier, laughed when she
met his eyes.

"What happens to the people who buy it?" she asked.

"Most of them are bachelors, and tough. They've stood their own
cooking so long that they ought to be, and if anybody's really sick I
hold off and tell him to wait until he can get a doctor. A sensitive
conscience," he added reflectively, "is quite a handicap in this
business."

"You have always been in it?" asked Winifred, who was amused at him.

"No," said Sproatly, "although you mightn't believe it, I was raised
with the idea that I should have my choice between the Church and the
Bar. The idea, however, proved--impracticable--which, in some
respects, is rather a pity. It has seemed to me that a man who can
work off cough cures and cosmetics on to healthy folks with a hide like
leather, and talk a scoffer off the field, ought to have made his mark
in either calling."

He looked at her as if for confirmation of this view, but Winifred, who
laughed again, glanced at the two wa