"Git up, you--you lump!" bellowed the harassed Mr. Lumley. Dan'l pricked
up one ear, then a hoof, and slowly got under way. As the equipage
passed the Baker homestead, the whole family was clustered about the
gate, staring at the occupant of the wagon. The stare was returned.

"Who lives in there?" demanded the stranger. "Who are those folks?"

"Ceph Baker's tribe," was the sullen answer.

"Baker, hey? Humph! new folks, I presume likely. Used to be Seth Snow's
house, that did. Where'd Seth go to?"

Gabe grunted that he did not know. He believed Mr. Snow was dead, had
died years before.

"Humph! dead, hey? Then I know where he went. Do you ever smoke--or does
drivin' this horse make you too nervous?"

Mr. Lumley thawed a bit at the sight of the proffered cigar. He admitted
that he smoked occasionally and that he guessed "'twouldn't interfere
with the drivin' none."

"Good enough! then we'll light up. I can talk better if I'm under a head
of steam. There's a new house; who built that?"

The "new" house was fifteen years old, but Gabe gave the name of its
builder. Then, thinking that the catechising had been altogether too
one-sided, he ventured an observation of his own.

"This is a pretty good cigar, Mister," he said. "Smokes like a