ath
grinned us in the teeth. Then I heard Mrs. Skenk say, quite
collectedly: "'Tis my fault, and my weight." Then Ajax roared out:
"For God's sake, sit down, ma'am, sit down. SIT DOWN!" he screamed,
his voice shrill above the bellowing, booming waters. A crash behind
told me that he had flung her back into her seat. At the same moment
the near horse found a footing; there was a mighty pull from both the
terrified animals, the harness held, and the danger was over. When we
reached the bank I looked round. Mrs. Skenk was smiling; Ajax was
white as chalk.

"She w-w-would have s-s-sacrificed her l-l-life," he stammered. "If I
hadn't grabbed her, she would be dead this minute."

"I reckon that's so," assented our passenger. "I took a notion to
jump. My weight and fool advice was like to cost three lives. Better
one, thinks I, than three. You saved my life, Mr. Ajax. Yes, you did.
Alviry, I reckon, will thank you."

The rest of the journey was accomplished in silence. We drove up to
the Swiggarts' house, and both Laban and his wife expressed great
surprise at seeing us.

"You're wet through, mother," said Mrs. Swiggart, "and all of a
tremble."

"Yes, Alviry, I've had a close call. This young man saved my life."

"Nonsense," said Ajax gruffly. "I did nothing of the sort, Mrs.
Skenk."

"Yes, you did," she insisted, grimly obstinate.

"Any ways," said Mrs. Swiggart, "you'll lose what has been saved,
mother, if you stand there in the rain."

For five days it rained steadily. Our creek, which for eleven months
in the year bleated sweetly at the foot of the garden, bellowed loudly
as any bull of Bashan, and kept us prisoners in the house, where we
had leisure to talk and reflect. We had been robbed and humbugged,
injured in pride and pocket, but the lagging hours anointed our
wounds. Philosophy touched us with healing finger.

"If we prosecute we advertise our own greenness," said Ajax. "After
all, if Laban did fleece us, he kept at bay other ravening wolves. And
there is Mrs. Skenk. That plucky old soul must never hear the story.
It would kill her."

So we decided to charge profit and loss with five hundred dollars, and
to keep our eyes peeled for the future. By this time the skies had
cleared, and the cataract was a creek again. The next day Mrs.
Swiggart drove up to the barn, tied her horse to the hitching-post,
and walked with impressive dignity up the garden path. We had time to
note that something was amiss. H