“Frank, when I was having my run of foolishness I was sorry that you are young. Now I'm mighty glad of it,” declared Britt. “I can take your place in yonder on the cot for the night--and I'm going to do it. But I'll be frank enough to say that I'd rather you'd ride to Levant and back in a sleigh to-night than do it myself. Go rout up Files's hostler, borrow his fur coat, and bundle up warm. It's good slipping along the road, and the trip may have a little pep for you, after all.” And, putting away his momentary doubts, Frank reflected on the matter and was honestly glad to vary the monotony of his close confinement to the bank. So he went and roused Files's hostler, bundled himself in the coat and the sleigh robes, and made a really joyous experience out of the trip to Levant, under the stars and over the snow that was crisped by the night's chill. He waited beside the station platform, standing up in the sleigh and peering eagerly after the train stopped. He called the name, “Mr. Barnes,” until the few sleepy, slouching, countrified passengers who alighted had passed on their way. It was perfectly apparent that Broker Barnes was not present to answer roll call. And after waiting, in whimsical delay, to make sure that Mr. Barnes had not come footing it behind the train, Frank whipped up and drove back to Egypt. He felt no pique; he had enjoyed the outing in the sparkling night. In the gray dawn he again routed out Files's yawning hostler and turned the equipage over to him. “Hope you found it a starry night for a ramble,” suggested the hostler, willing to be informed as to why a bank cashier had been gallivanting around over the country between days, turning in a sweating horse at break of dawn. Vaniman allowed that it was a starry night, all right, and left the topic there, with a period set to it by the snap of his tone. He went directly to the bank and admitted himself with his keys. President Britt came from the back room, with yawns that matched those of the hostler. “What time did Barnes say he'd be down here from the tavern in the morning?” “Mr. Barnes did not come on that train, sir.” “Well, I'll be--” rapped Britt, snapping shut his jaws. “But I haven't minded the trip--I really enjoyed the ride,” insisted the messenger. “Don't tell that to Barnes when he shows up to-night on Ike Jones's stage,” commanded Britt. “I propose to have a few words to say about what it means in the country when a city fathead changes his mind about the train he'll take.” He was looking past the cashier while he talked. He turned away and picked up his hat and coat from a chair. “I'll be going along to my house, I reckon. You'd better catch a cat-nap on the cot. I found it comfortable. I've slept every minute since you've been gone.” Then Britt hurried out, locking the door behind him. CHAPTER XII SOMETHING TO BE EXPLAINED