to see him at once."

"Throw down your dollar." The coin fell at their feet but rolled
deliberately through a crack in the floor and was lost forever. Crosby
muttered something unintelligible, but resignedly threw a second coin
after the first.

"He'll be out when he gets through dinner," said the older boy, just
before the fight. Two minutes later he was streaking across the barn lot
with the coin in his pocket, the smaller boy wailing under the woe of a
bloody nose. For half an hour Crosby heaped insult after insult upon the
glowering dog at the bottom of the ladder and was in the midst of a
rabid denunciation of Austin when the city-bred farmer entered the barn.

"Am I addressing Mr. Robert Austin?" called Crosby, suddenly amiable.
The dog subsided and ran to his master's side. Austin, a black-
moustached, sallow-faced man of forty, stopped near the door and looked
aloft, squinting.

"Where are you?" he asked somewhat sharply.

"I am very much up in the air," replied Crosby. "Look a little sou' by
sou'east. Ah, now you have me. Can you manage the dog? If so, I'll come
down."

"One moment, please. Who are you?"

"My name is Crosby, of Rolfe & Crosby, Chicago. I am here to see Mrs.
Delancy, your sister-in-law, on business before she leaves for New
York."