of the gate and turned toward town. Scattergood let the reins lie,
attempting no guidance. At the next four corners the mare hesitated,
slowed, and, feeling no direction from her driver, turned to the left.
Scattergood nodded his head.

The mare trotted on, following the slowly lifting mountain road for a
matter of two miles, and then turned again down a highway that was
little more than a tote road. Half a mile later she stopped with her
nose against the fence of a shabby farmhouse, and sagged down, as is the
custom of horses when they realize they are at their destination and
have a rest of duration before them. Scattergood alighted and fastened
her to the fence.

As he swung open the gate a middle-aged man appeared in the door of the
house, and over his shoulder Scattergood could see the white face of a
woman--staring.

"Evening Jed," said Scattergood. "Evening Mis' Briggs."

"Howdy, Mr. Baines? Wa'n't expectin' to see _you_. What fetches you this
fur off'n the road?"

"Sort of got here by accident, you might say. Didn't come of my own free
will, seems as though. Kind of tired, Jed. Mind if I set a spell?...
How's the cannin', Mis' Briggs?"

"Done up thutty quarts to-day, Mr. Baines," said the young woman, who
was Jed Briggs's wife, a woman fifteen years his junior, comely,
desirable, vivid.