He was told yes, that for the present he was their coachman. Their horses were tired and would follow, tied behind. “We're weary, too,” said Drake, getting in. “Take your legs out of my way or I'll kick off your shins. Bolles, are you fixed warm and comfortable? Now start her up for Harper ranch, Uncle.” “What are you proposing to do with me?” inquired Uncle Pasco. “Not going to wring your neck, and that's enough for the present. Faster, Uncle. Get a gait on. Bolles, here's Baby Bunting. Much obliged to you for the loan of it, old man.” Uncle Pasco's eye fell on the 22-caliber pistol. “Did you hold me up with that lemonade straw?” he asked, huskily. “Yep,” said Drake. “That's what.” “Oh, hell!” murmured Uncle Pasco. And for the first time he seemed dispirited. “Uncle, you're not making time,” said Drake after a few miles. “I'll thank you for the reins. Open your bandanna and get your concertina. Jerk the bellows for us.” “That I'll not!” screamed Uncle Pasco. “It's music or walk home,” said the boy. “Take your choice.” Uncle Pasco took his choice, opening with the melody of “The Last Rose of Summer.” The sleigh whirled up the Owyhee by the winter willows, and the levels, and the meadow pools, bright frozen under the blue sky. Late in this day the amazed Brock by his corrals at Harper's beheld arrive his favorite, his boy superintendent, driving in with the schoolmaster staring through his glasses, and Uncle Pasco throwing out active strains upon his concertina. The old man had been bidden to bellows away for his neck. Drake was not long in explaining his need to the men. “This thing must be worked quick,” said he. “Who'll stand by me?” All of them would, and he took ten, with the faithful Brock. Brock would not allow Gilbert to go, because he had received another mule-kick in the stomach. Nor was Bolles permitted to be of the expedition. To all his protests, Drake had but the single word: “This is not your fight, old man. You've done your share with Baby Bunting.” Thus was the school-master in sorrow compelled to see them start back to Indian Creek and the Malheur without him. With him Uncle Pasco would have joyfully exchanged. He was taken along with the avengers. They would not wring his neck, but they would play cat and mouse with him and his concertina; and they did. But the conscience of Bolles still toiled. When Drake and the men were safe away, he got on the wagon going for the mail, thus making his way next morning to the railroad and Boise, where Max Vogel listened to him; and together this couple hastily took train and team for the Malheur Agency. The avengers reached Indian Creek duly, and the fourth day after his Christmas dinner Drake came once more in sight of Castle Rock. “I am doing this thing myself, understand,” he said to Brock. “I am responsible.”