"But, you see, I
don't care to sell."
"Then what in the world are you going to do with it?"
"Run it."
"But, my dear Miss Messiter, it isn't an automobile or any other
kind of toy. You must remember that it takes a business head and
a great deal of experience to make such an investment pay. I
really think--"
"My school ends on the fourteenth of June. I'll get a substitute
for the last two months. I shall start for Wyoming on the
eighteenth of April."
The man of law gasped, explained the difficulties again carefully
as to a child, found that he was wasting his breath, and wisely
gave it up.
Miss Messiter had started on the eighteenth of April, as she had
announced. When she reached Gimlet Butte, the nearest railroad
point to the Lazy D, she found a group of curious, weatherbeaten
individuals gathered round a machine foreign to their experience.
It was on a flat car, and the general opinion ran the gamut from
a newfangled sewing machine to a thresher. Into this guessing
contest came its owner with so brisk and businesslike an energy
that inside of two hours she was testing it up and down the wide
street of Gimlet Butte, to the wonder and delight of an audience
to which each one of the eleven saloons of the city had
contributed its admiring quota.
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