his grin
frank and unconcealed, he took a stone from the road and with it tapped
gently upon the shaft running from the pump. Immediately there came
that little hissing sound she had waited for.

"Starter," he commanded.

And now her foot upon the pedal achieved the desired results; the
engine responded, humming pleasantly. He closed the hood and stood
back eying her with a mingling of amusement and triumph. Her face
reddened slowly. And then, startling him with its unheralded
unexpectedness, a gay peal of laughter from her made quite another girl
of her, a dimpling, radiant, altogether adorable and desirable creature.

"Oh, I know when I'm beat!" she cried frankly. "You've put one across
on me to-day, Mr. Man. And since you meant well all along and were
just simply the blunderheaded man God made you, I guess I have been a
little cat. Good luck to you and a worth-while trail to ride."

She blew him a friendly kiss from her brown finger-tips, bent over her
wheel, and took the first turn in the road at a swiftly acquired speed
which left Steve Packard behind in dust and growing wonderment.

"And she's been driving only a month," was his softly whistled comment.
"Reckless little devil!"

Then, in his turn cocking a speculative eye at the sun in the west, he
rode on, following in the track made by the spinning automobile tires.

CHAPTER III

NEWS OF A LEGACY

When Packard came to a forking of the roads he stopped and hesitated.
The automobile tracks led to the left; he was tempted to follow them.
And it was his way in the matter of such impulses to yield to
temptation. But in this case he finally decided that common sense if
not downright wisdom pointed in the other direction.

So, albeit a bit reluctantly, he swerved to the right.

"We'll see you some other time, though, Miss Blue Cloak," he pondered.
"For I have a notion it would be good sport knowing you."

An hour later he made out a lighted window, seen and lost through the
trees. Conscious of a man's-sized appetite he galloped up the long
lane, turned in at a gate sagging wearily upon its hinges, and rode to
the door of the lighted house. The first glance showed him that it was
a long, low, rambling affair resembling in dejectedness the drooping
gate. An untidy sort of man in shirt-sleeves and smoking a pipe came
to the door, kicking into silence his half-dozen dogs.

"What's the chance of something to eat and a place to sleep in the
b