An idea flashed across Slone's mind. He
went up to Vorhees's place and was much pleased with everything, especially
the corral, which had been built by a man who feared horse-thieves as much as
Bostil. The view from the door of the little cabin was magnificent beyond
compare. Slone remembered Lucy's last words. They rang like bells in his ears.
"Don't go--don't!" They were enough to chain him to Bostil's Ford until the
crack of doom. He dared not dream of what they meant. He only listened to
their music as they pealed over and over in his ears.
"Vorhees, are you serious?" he asked. "The money you ask is little enough."
"It's enough an' to spare," replied the man. "An' I'd take it as a favor of
you."
"Well, I'll go you," said Slone, and he laughed a little irrationally. "Only
you needn't tell right away that I bought you out."
The deal was consummated, leaving Slone still with half of the money that had
been his prize in the race. He felt elated. He was rich. He owned two
horses--one the grandest in all the uplands, the other the faithfulest--and he
owned a neat little cabin where it was a joy to sit and look out, and a corral
which would let him sleep at night, and he had money to put into supplies and
furnishings, and a garden.
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