"They say that's quite a girl old Y.D.'s got."

"Oh," said Linder, slowly. The occasion of the soreness in that
Pete-horse's off front foot was becoming apparent.

"You better stick to Pete," Linder continued. "Women is most uncertain
critters."

"Don't I know it?" chuckled George, poking the foreman's ribs
companionably with his elbow. "Don't I know it?" he repeated, as his
mind apparently ran back over some reminiscence that verified Linder's
remark. It was evident from the pleasant grimaces of George's face that
whatever he had suffered from the uncertain sex was forgiven.

"Say, Lin," he resumed after another pause, and this time in a more
confidential tone, "do you s'pose Transley's got a notion that way?"

"Shouldn't wonder. Transley always knows what he's doing, and why. Y.D.
must be worth a million or so, and the girl is all he's got to leave
it to. Besides all that, no doubt she's well worth having on her own
account."

"Well, I'm sorry for the boss," George replied, with great soberness. "I
alus hate to disappoint the boss."

"Huh!" said Linder. He knew George Drazk too well for further comment.
After his unlimited pride in and devotion to his horse, George gave his
heart unreservedly to womankind. He suffered from no cramping niceness
in his devotions; that would have limited the play of his passion; to
him all women were alike--or nearly so. And no number of rebuffs could