"But it's twenty-five miles over there--twenty-five to thirty."

Bannon looked at his watch. "We ought to get there by ten o'clock, I
should think."

"Ten o'clock! What do you think she is--a sawhorse! She never took more
than two hours to Manistogee in her life."

The corners of Bannon's mouth twitched expressively. Sloan laughed again.
"I guess it's up to me this time," he said.

Before they started Sloan telephoned to the Eagle office to tell them to
print a full-sized reproduction of his poster on the front page of the
Ledyard Evening Eagle.

"Crowd their news a little, won't it?" Bannon asked.

Sloan shook his head. "That helps 'em out in great shape."

The Eagle did not keep them waiting. The moment Sloan pulled up his
impatient mare before the office door, the editor ran out, bareheaded, in
the rain, with the posters.

"They're pretty wet yet," he said.

"That's all right. I only want a handful. Send the others to my office.
They know what to do with 'em."

"I was glad to print them," the editor went on deferentially. "You have
expressed our opinion of the G.&M. exactly."