She waved her hand to the driver, Bill Jones, another old hand, long employed by her father.

Bill hauled back on the many-branched reins, and when the horses stopped the clattering, whirring roar of the machine also ceased.
"Howdy, miss! Reckon this 's a regular I.W.W.

hold-up." "Worse than that, Bill," gaily replied Lenore as she mounted the platform where another man sat on a bag of barley.

Lenore did not recognize him.

He looked rugged and honest, and beamed upon her.
"Watch out fer yer dress," he said, pointing with grimy hand to the dusty wheels and braces so near her.
"Let me drive, Bill ?" she asked.
"Wal, now, I wisht I could," he replied, dryly.