were the relay of coach-horses, great grays and bays, champing their
feed, getting ready for their sure-footed rushes over the mountain
roads when the coaches came in. She passed them by with sharp
glances.

A man whose face was purplish red with cold was out in the rear of
the stable, rubbing down a restive bay with loud "whoas," and now and
then a stronger word and a hard twitch at the halter. He looked
curiously at Madelon as she walked up to one of the stalls.

"Better look out for them heels!" he called out, as she drew nearer.
She paid no heed, but went straight into the stall, untied the horse,
and began to back him out. "Hi, there!" the man shouted, and Dexter
Beers and the young man came hurrying up. "Better look out for that
gal--I believe she's gone crazy!" he called out. "I can't leave this
darned beast--she'll get kicked to death if she don't look out. That
old white won't stan' a woman in the stall. Whoa, there! whoa, darn
ye! Stan' still!"

"Hullo, what ye doin' of?" demanded Dexter Beers, coming up.

Madelon calmly backed the horse out of his stall. "I want to hire
this horse," said she, holding his halter with a firm hand.

"That horse?"

"Yes. I'll pay you whatever you ask."

Dexter Beers stared at her and the horse dubiously. "Jest as soon set
a woman to drivin' the devil as that old white," volunteered the man