ee who's what! Whoa! Whoa! Steady! Come into that
channel, you old idiot! Come _on_!"

The Foam Flake was pretty nearly ready to come by this time. And
Kendrick's not too gentle coaxing helped. The buggy settled into the
ruts with a series of bumps. The horse's gallop became a trot, then a
walk; then he stopped and stood still.

The captain subsided on the seat beside his passenger. He relaxed his
tension upon the reins and the situation.

"Whew!" he exclaimed. "That was sweet while it lasted. All right, are
you?"

She answered, still rather breathlessly, "Yes, I am all right," she
declared. "But you? Aren't you hurt?"

"Me? Not a bit."

"You're sure? I was so afraid. Your--your legs, you know."

"My legs are all serene." They weren't, by any means, and were at that
moment proclaiming the fact, but he did not mean she should know.
"They're first-rate.... Well, I'm much obliged."

"Obliged for what?"

"For that rein. But you shouldn't have climbed out that way. You might
have broken your neck. 'Twas an awful risk."

"You were going to take the same risk. And _I_ am not in the doctor's
care."

"Well, you shouldn't have done it, just the same. And it was a spunky
thing to do.... But what a numbskull I was not to be on the lookout for
that squall. Humph!" with a grin, "I believe I told you even a typhoon
couldn't move this horse. I was wrong, wasn't I?"

The squall had passed on, but a steady gale was behind it. And there was
a marked hint of dampness in the air. Sears sniffed.

"And I'm afraid, too," he said, "that I was wrong about that rain comin'
to-morrow. I think it's comin' this evenin' and pretty soon, at that."

It came within fifteen minutes, in showery gusts at first. The captain
urged the Foam Flake onward as fast as possible, but that quadruped had
already over-expended his stock of energy and shouts and slaps meant
nothing to him. For a short time Sears chatted and laughed, but then he
relapsed into silence. Elizabeth, watching him fearfully, caught, as the
buggy bounced over a loose stone, a smothered exclamation, first cousin
to a groan.

"I knew it!" she cried. "You _are_ hurt, Cap'n Kendrick."

"No, no, I'm not," hastily. "It's--it's those confounded spliced spars
of mine. They're a little weak yet, I presume likely."

"Of course they are. Oh, I'm _so_ sorry. Won't you let me drive?"

"I should say not. I'm not quite ready for the scrap heap yet. And if I
couldn't steer this Noah's a