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Saterlee approached the group, some of whose elders had been watching and discussing his approach.

“Do any of you own a boat?” he asked.

“Train D-railed?” queried the proprietor of the Life-Saving Station, “or was you just out for a walk?”

The family and family-in-law laughed appreciatively.

“The train put to sea in a washout,” said Saterlee, “and all the passengers were drowned.”

“Where you want to git?” asked the proprietor.

“Carcasonne,” said Saterlee. “Not the junction–the resort.”

“Well,” said the proprietor, “there’s just one horse and just one trap in Grub City, and they ain’t for hire.”

Again the united families laughed appreciatively. It was evident that a prophet is not always without honor in his own land.

“We’ve no use for them,” said the great man, with the noble abandoning gesture of a Spanish grandee about to present a horse to a man travelling by canoe. And he added: “So they’re for sale. Now what do you think they’d be worth to you?”

All the honest blue eyes, and there were no other colors, widened upon Saterlee.

“Fifty dollars,” he said, as one accustomed to business.

It was then that a panting, female voice was raised behind him. “Sixty dollars!”

His showy acquaintance of the dining-car had followed him along the ties as fast as she could, and was just come up.

“I thought you two was a trust,” commented the proprietor’s wife, pausing with her needle in the air. “But it seems you ain’t even a community of interests.”

“Seventy dollars,” said Saterlee quietly.

The lady advanced to his side, counting the change in her purse.

“Seventy-six dollars and eighty-five cents,” she said.

“Eighty dollars,” said Saterlee.

“Oh!” cried the lady, “seventy-six eighty-five is every cent I’ve got with me–and you’re no gentleman to bid higher.”

“Eighty,” repeated Saterlee.

“Eighty dollars,” said the son-in-law, “for a horse and buggy that a man’s never seen is too good to be true.”

“They are yours, sir,” said the father-in-law, and he turned to his daughter’s husband. “Is that horse in your cellar or in mine?” he asked. “I ain’t set eyes on her since February.”

The son-in-law, sent to fetch the horse, first paused at the cellar door of the Life-Saving Station, then, with a shake of the head and an “I remember now” expression, he approached and entered the subterrene of his own house and business, and disappeared, saying: “Whoa, there! Steady you!”

Saterlee turned quietly to the angry and tearful vision whom he had so callously outbid.

“Ma’am,” he said, “if we come to my stop first or thereabouts, the buggy is yours to go on with. If we reach yours first, it’s mine.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her face brightening, “how good you are. But you’ll let me go halves on the purchase money.”

“If I appeared rude just now,” he said, “it was to save a lady’s pocket. Now then, you’ve wet them high-heeled shoes. Wherever you’re going, it’s a long drive. Let’s go inside and dry our feet while they’re hitching up. Which is your house?”

The proprietor of the Life-Saving Station indicated that building with his thumb, and told his daughter of the white muslin dress to kindle a fire in the stove. She slid her future wedding finery into a large paper bag, and entered the saloon by the “Family Entrance,” ardently followed by her future husband.

The proprietor, Saterlee, and the showy lady followed more slowly, discussing roads.

“Now,” said Saterlee, “if you’re going further than Carcasonne Junction, I’ll get off there. And either I’ll walk to the hotel or hire another trap.”

“Why!” exclaimed the lady, “are you bound for Carcasonne House? So am I.”

“In that case,” said Saterlee elegantly, “we’ll go the whole hog together.”

“Quite so,” said the lady primly.

“You’d ought to make Carcasonne House by midnight,” said the proprietor. “Put your feet up on that there stove.”

“Heavens!” exclaimed the lady. “And if we don’t make it by midnight?”

“We will by one or two o’clock.”

The lady became very grave.

“Of course,” she said, “it can’t be helped. But it would be ever so much nicer if we could get in before midnight.”