told herself that if she lived to be a hundred she would never forget the man's impudence or the indignities he had heaped upon her. Steele's "Pole Team" had created widespread interest and had elicited much rude laughter; that that laughter was directed at the three men who had gone forth boastfully and come back helplessly and not at herself did not suggest itself to her. She knew that men talked of it in mine and logging camp and on the range, that news of it went mile after mile up and down, that a merry account of the whole episode appeared in both the White Rock Sentinel and the Junction Independent eliciting humorous editorial comment in the latter, employing her name in both. So when word came to her at last, direct from Steele himself, she was near the verge of hot tears of exasperation.
"To Her Imperial Majesty, Trixie the Great," he wrote In big generous letters reminiscent of the man himself. "From her fellow Monarch, King Bill of Hell's Goblet. Greetings. Let the bells ring in honour of an occasion of tremendous importance in the lives and friendships of the aforementioned royal personages. Let us commemorate with joy and song the keeping of the promise made by the August Bill. The cabin is done! Houp-la, your majesty.
"Your own promise you will keep because noblesse oblige and the Queen, especially when she is the Good Queen Bea, cannot lie. Ave atque vale.
Not only the royal message, but envelope as well, torn across angrily went to the floor to be ground by a savage high heel.
"The … the … fool!" she gasped. "Theunreadable word
