“Hullo, what ye doin’ of?” demanded Dexter Beers, coming up.

Madelon calmly backed the horse out of his stall.  “I want to hire this horse,” said she, holding his halter with a firm hand.

“That horse?”

“Yes.  I’ll pay you whatever you ask.”

Dexter Beers stared at her and the horse dubiously.  “Jest as soon set a woman to drivin’ the devil as that old white,” volunteered the man who was cleaning the bay.  The young man stood gaping with wonder.

“Can I have this horse or not?” demanded Madelon.  Her black eyes flashed imperiously at Dexter Beers.  Her small brown hand held the halter of the old white with a grasp like steel.

“Dunno ‘bout your drivin’ that horse,” said Dexter Beers. “’Fraid you’ll get run away with.  Better take another.”

“Isn’t this horse the fastest you’ve got on a short stretch?”

“S’pose he is, but I dunno ‘bout a woman’s drivin’ of him.”

Madelon looked as if she were half minded to spring upon the back of the old white and settle the matter summarily.  She fairly quivered with impatience.

“A woman who can drive David Hautville’s roan can drive this horse, and you know it,” said she.  She moved forward as she spoke, leading the high-stepping old white, and Dexter Beers stood aside.

“Well, David Hautville’s roan is nigh a match for this one,” he grunted, hesitatingly, “but then ye know your own better.  Hadn’t ye better—­”

But the old white was out of the stable at a trot, with Madelon running alongside.

“Don’t ye want a man to hitch him up?” Dexter Beers called after her; but she was out of hearing.

“If the gal’s ekal to drivin’ that horse, she’s ekal to hitchin’ of him up,” said the man who was cleaning the bay.  “If a gal wants to drive, let her hitch.  Ye’d better let a woman go the whole figger when she gits started, just as ye’d better give an ugly cuss of a horse his head up hill an’ down.  It takes the mischief out of ’em quicker’n anything.  Let her go it, Dexter—­don’t ye fret.”

“I don’t want her breakin’ any of the parson’s daughter’s bones with none of my horses,” said Dexter Beers, uneasily.  “Wonder where the parson is?”

“Let ’em go it!  They won’t git smashed up, I guess,” said the other.  “I’ve seen that gal of Hautville’s with that mare of his’n.  She kin drive most anythin’ short of the devil, an’ old white’s got sense enough to know when he’s well driv, ugly’s he is.  He wa’n’t on the track for nothin’.  He ain’t no wuss, if he’s as bad, as that roan mare.  Let ’em go it!”

“Wonder what’s to pay?” said the young man, who had not spoken before.

“Dunno,” said Dexter Beers.  “Somethin’s to pay—­that girl acted queer.”

“S’pose she takes it hard ’bout Burr Gordon.  He used to fool ’round her, I’ve heerd, afore he went courtin’ the parson’s gal.”

“Dunno—­queer she’s so thick with the parson’s gal all of a sudden.”