e went, a proceeding which left the seamed old face of Whinstane
Sandy about as blithe as a coffin-lid. So I coldly informed the
newcomer that I'd show him where he could put his things, if he had
any, before we went out to look over the windmill. And Peter rather
astonished me by lugging back from the motor-car so discreetly left in
the rear a huge suit-case of pliable pigskin that looked like a
steamer-trunk with carrying-handles attached to it, a laprobe lined
with beaver, a llama-wool sweater made like a Norfolk-jacket, a
chamois-lined ulster, a couple of plaid woolen rugs, and a lunch-kit
in a neatly embossed leather case.

"Quite a bit of loot, isn't it?" he said, a little red in the face
from the effort of portaging so pretentious a load.

That word "loot" stuck in my craw. It was a painful reminder of
something that I'd been trying very hard to forget.

"Did it come with the car?" I demanded.

"Yes, it came with the car," he was compelled to acknowledge. "But it
would be exhausting, don't you see, to have to tunnel through a
hay-stack every time I wanted a hair-brush!"

I icily agreed that it would, scenting tacit reproof in that
mildly-put observation of his. But I didn't propose to be trifled
with. I calmly led Mr. Peter Ketley out to where the overturned
windmill tower lay like a museum skeleton along its bed of weeds and
asked him just what tools he'd need. It was a simple question,
predicating a simple answer. Yet he didn't seem able to reply to it.
He scratched his close-clipped pate and said he'd have to look things
over and study it out. Windmills were tricky things, one kind
demanding this sort of treatment and another kind demanding that.

"You'll have no trouble, of course, in raising the tower?" I asked,
looking him square in the eye. More than once I'd seen these windmill
towers of galvanized steel girders put up on the prairie, and I had a
very good idea of how the thing was done. They were assembled lying on
the ground, and then a heavy plank was bolted to the bottom side of
the tower base. This plank was held in place by two big stakes. Then a
block and tackle was attached to the upper part of the tower, with the
running-rope looped over a tripod of poles, to act as a fulcrum, so
that when a team of horses was attached to the tackle the tower
pivoted on its base and slowly rose in the air, steadied by a couple
of guy-ropes held out at right angles to it.

"Oh, no trouble at all," replied