mare. The west wind freshened as the evening came on and dashed fine,
sleety rain into their faces. Bannon huddled his wet coat closer about
him. Sloan put the reins between his knees and pulled on a pair of heavy
gloves.

It had been dark for half an hour--Bannon could hardly distinguish the
moving figure of the mare--when Sloan spoke to her and drew her to a walk.
Bannon reached for his hammer. "No crossroad here," said Sloan. "Bridge
out of repair. We've got to fetch a circle here up to where she can wade
it."

"Hold on," said Bannon sharply. "Let me get out."

"Don't be scared. We'll make it all right."

"We! Yes, but will fifteen hundred feet of lumber make it? I want to take
a look."

He splashed forward in the dark, but soon returned. "It's nothing that
can't be fixed in two hours. Where's the nearest farmhouse?"

"Fifty rods up the road to your right."

Again Bannon disappeared. Presently Sloan heard the deep challenge of a
big dog. He backed the buggy around up against the wind so that he could
have shelter while he waited. Then he pulled a spare blanket from under
the seat and threw it over the mare. At the end of twenty minutes, he saw
a lantern bobbing toward him.

The big farmer who accompanied Bannon held the lantern high and looked