"Of course," he said quietly. "You see, I have been ill, and a little
off my balance lately. That accounts for erratic speeches, though I
meant it all. Colonel Barrington is still in Winnipeg?"
"Yes," said the girl, who was not convinced by the explanation, very
quietly. "I am a little anxious about him, too. He sold wheat
forward, and I gather from his last letter has not bought it yet. Now,
as Alfreton is driving in to-morrow, he could take you."
Winston was grateful to her, and still more to Miss Barrington, who
came in just then, while he did not see the girl again before he
departed with Alfreton on the morrow. When they had left Silverdale a
league behind, the trail dipped steeply amid straggling birches to a
bridge which spanned the creek in a hollow, and Winston glanced up at
the winding ascent thoughtfully.
"It has struck me that going round by this place puts another six miles
on to your journey to the railroad, and a double team could not pull a
big load up," he said.
The lad nodded. "The creek is a condemned nuisance. We have either to
load light when we are hauling grain in, and then pitch half the bags
off at the bottom and come back for them--while you know one man can't
put up many four-bushel bags--or keep a man and horses at the ravine
until we're through."
Winston laughed. "Now, I wonder whether you ever figured how much
those little things put up the price of your wheat."
"This is the only practicable way down," said the lad.
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