_Breeders' Gazette?"_

Naismith, a youngish man of thirty, with glasses, smiled sheepishly
and cocked his head at his companion.

"Wainwright challenged me," he explained.

"Which means that Lute and Ernestine must still be beauty-sleeping,"
Forrest laughed.

Young Wainwright bristled to acceptance of the challenge, but before
he could utter the retort on his lips his host was moving on and
addressing Naismith over his shoulder.

"Do you want to come along at eleven:thirty? Thayer and I are running
out in the machine to look over the Shropshires. He wants about ten
carloads of rams. You ought to find good stuff in this matter of Idaho
shipments. Bring your camera along.--Seen Thayer this morning?"

"Just came in to breakfast as we were leaving," Bert Wainwright
volunteered.

"Tell him to be ready at eleven-thirty if you see him. You're not
invited, Bert... out of kindness. The girls are sure to be up then."

"Take Rita along with you anyway," Bert pleaded.

"No fear," was Forrest's reply from the door. "We're on business.
Besides, you can't pry Rita from Ernestine with block-and-tackle."