THE DAUGHTER OF A CHIEF
and with the chauffeur riding on the running board where Luck had calmly banished him when he skidded on a sharp turn and came near upsetting them.
Applehead, stowing a coil of new rope in the chuck-wagon, took off his hat and rubbed his shiny, pink pate in dismay. He was, for the moment, a culprit caught in the act of committing a grave misdemeanor if not an actual felony. He dropped the rope and went forward with dragging feet—ashamed, for the first time in his life, to face a friend.
Luck gave the wheel a twist, cut a fine curve around the windmill and stopped before the house with as near a flourish as a seven-passenger automobile loaded from tail-lamp to windshield can possibly approach.
"There. That's the way I've been used to seeing cars behave," Luck observed pointedly to the deposed chauffeur as he slammed the door open and climbed out. "You don't have to act like you're a catepillar on a rail fence, to play safe. I believe in keeping all four wheels on the ground—but I like to see 'em turn once in awhile. You
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