CHAPTER VIISHOWS HOW MR. SCANLON MET THE MAN WITH THE SOFT VOICE
IT was late in the afternoon when Bat Scanlon got off the train at Marlowe Furnace and struck down the little road toward the covered bridge.
Upon the west bank he held to the regular road toward Schwartzberg; and he had gone perhaps half the distance when he heard hoof beats behind him; turning, he recognized Grace Knowles, mounted upon a powerful grey horse.
She waved her whip to him, smilingly, and as she came up, drew in her mount.
“It’s a very pleasant afternoon,” said she.
Bat cast his eyes first at one point and then at another. The question, it would appear, was a weighty one and must be carefully considered. The sun touched the hilltops with a dull gold; the sky was filled with sailing ribbons of white; and the
