culminated. "Dave," she said, "d' you know what Deakin Perkins is sayin'
about ye?"

David opened his paper so as to hide his face, and the corners of his
mouth twitched as he asked in return, "Wa'al, what's the deakin sayin'
now?"

"He's sayin'," she replied, in a voice mixed of indignation and
apprehension, "thet you sold him a balky horse, an' he's goin' to hev
the law on ye." David's shoulders shook behind the sheltering page, and
his mouth expanded in a grin.

"Wa'al," he replied after a moment, lowering the paper and looking
gravely at his companion over his glasses, "next to the deakin's
religious experience, them of lawin' an' horse-tradin' air his strongest
p'ints, an' he works the hull on 'em to once sometimes."

The evasiveness of this generality was not lost on Mrs. Bixbee, and she
pressed the point with, "Did ye? an' will he?"

"Yes, an' no, an' mebbe, an' mebbe not," was the categorical reply.

"Wa'al," she answered with a snap, "mebbe you call that an answer. I
s'pose if you don't want to let on you won't, but I do believe you've
ben playin' some trick on the deakin, an' won't own up. I do wish," she
added, "that if you hed to git rid of a balky horse onto somebody you'd
hev picked out somebody else."

"When you got a balker to dispose of," said David gravely, "you can't
alwus pick an' choose. Fust come, fust served." Then he went on more