d over the
worn pavement of cedar blocks, but now they had reached the city limits
and were starting out upon the rain-beaten sand. She was a tall,
clean-limbed sorrel, a Kentucky-bred Morgan, and as she settled into her
stride, Bannon watched her admiringly. Her wet flanks had the dull sheen
of bronze.

"Don't tell me," said Sloan, "that Michigan roads are no good for
driving. You never had anything finer than this in your life." They sped
along as on velvet, noiselessly save when their wheels sliced through
standing pools of water. "She can keep this up till further notice, I
suppose," said Bannon. Sloan nodded.

Soon they reached the first crossroad. There was a general store at one
corner, and, opposite, a blacksmith's shop. Sloan pulled up and Bannon
sprang out with a hammer, a mouthful of tacks, and three or four of the
posters. He put them up on the sheltered side of conspicuous trees, left
one with the storekeeper, and another with the smith. Then they drove
on.

They made no pretence at conversation. Bannon seemed asleep save that he
was always ready with his hammer and his posters whenever Sloan halted
the mare. The west wind freshened as the evening came on and dashed
fine, sleety rain into their faces. Bannon huddled his wet coat closer
about him. Sloan put the reins between his knees and pulled on a pair of
heavy gloves.

It had been dark for half an hour--Bannon could hardly distinguish the
moving figure of the mare--when Sloan spoke to her and drew her to a
walk. Bannon reached for his hammer. "No crossroad here," said Sloan.
"Bridge out of repair. We've got to fetch a circle here up to where she
can wade it."

"Hold on," said Bannon sharply. "Let me get out."

"Don't be scared. We'll make it all right."

"We! Yes, but will fifteen hundred feet of lumber make it? I want to
take a look."

He splashed forward in the dark, but soon returned. "It's nothing that
can't be fixed in two hours. Where's the nearest farmhouse?"

"Fifty rods up the road to your right."

Again Bannon disappeared. Presently Sloan heard the deep challenge of a
big dog. He backed the buggy around up against the wind so that he could
have shelter while he waited. Then he pulled a spare blanket from under
the seat and threw it over the mare. At the end of twenty minutes, he
saw a lantern bobbing toward him.

The big farmer who accompanied Bannon held the lantern high and looked
over the mare. "It's her all right," he said. T