As Waco had foretold, that was an anxious day for the women. Tom had gone off at dawn with his load drawn by the partly-broken horses, which were frisky and frivolous, inclined to lunge at the collar and throw their heels somewhat too high for earnest work. Waco was on hand to give some parting advice.
"Keep 'em steppin' lively for the first hour or two, Tom, and don't let 'em git their tails over the lines or straddle the tugs. You'll soon take the ginger out of 'em. By sunup they'll be as gentle as house cats."
Tom promised to watch the slack of the lines and the frisking tails, and keep them stepping so fast they wouldn't have time to hoist a leg over a tug. He also made Waco do a little pledging on his own account to the effect that he wouldn't attempt to do any hauling that day.
"You lay off of it till I come back, old man," Tom advised. "You've been overdoin' it already from the way you're cripplin' around this morning."
"I got a crimp in my leg, guess I must 'a' slep' crooked on it," Waco explained his limp. "But I'll wait till you come home if you say so, Tom, even if I could run a shanghai rooster down when my leg gits limbered up a little. You sure you don't want that shotgun?"
This subjoined question he whispered, turning a cau-
