over the mare. "It's her all right," he said. Then he turned so that the
light shone full in Sloan's face. "Good evening, Mr. Sloan," he said.
"You'll excuse me, but is what this gentleman tells me all straight?"

"Guess it is," Sloan smiled. "I'd bank on him myself."

The farmer nodded with satisfaction. "All right then, Mr.
What's-your-name. I'll have it done for you."

Sloan asked no questions until they had forded the stream and were back on
the road. Then he inquired, "What's he going to do?"

"Mend the bridge. I told him it had to be done tonight. Said he couldn't.
Hadn't any lumber. Couldn't think of it. I told him to pull down the lee
side of his house if necessary; said you'd give him the lumber to build an
annex on it."

"What!"

"Oh, it's all right. Send the bill to MacBride. I knew your name would go
down and mine wouldn't."

The delay had proved costly, and it was half-past seven before they
reached the Manistogee hotel.

"Now," said Bannon, "we'll have time to rub down the mare and feed her
before I'm ready to go back."

Sloan stared at him for a moment in unfeigned amazement. Then slowly he
shook his head. "All right, I'm no quitter. But I will say that I'm glad