"Not enough to mention," said the other. "It's way below fifty dollars, and the receipt calls for a valuation up to that amount in case the package is lost, doesn't it?"
"Right-o! Le'me have the receipt a minute."
He picked up a rubber stamp, pressed it upon an ink pad, and then brought it down hard on the piece of paper McKenzie had laid on the counter. "'Value asked and not given,'" he remarked. "Notice? Now I'll just mark the prepaid slip with the weight and the amount you paid." He suited his action to the word, marking a plain "6" in the space for the weight, and "25" in that for the amount. "There you have it," he finished. "Nothin' very complicated about that, huh?"
"Is that all there is to it?" queried McKenize.
"Well," answered Reeves, "Joe Summerfield makes out the waybill."
"Is that complicated?"
"Easy as fallin' off a log. Say," said the driver obligingly, "I'll make out the waybill for this, just to help Joe out and show you how it's done."
He went back to a counter in the rear of the office, and returned with several yellow slips, probably two feet long and three and one-half inches wide.
"These are printed at both ends, see?" he continued. "In the middle there's a blank space. I fold the two printed ends over with a piece of carbon underneath. Timesavers, that's what. Here's the date—that goes on with a stamp." He used another stamp and the ink pad. "Then here's a stamp with 'Burt City, Montana' on it, and our block number. I use that, too. Now I fill in."
While Reeves was writing, McKenzie examined the last rubber stamp. "The two printed ends are torn off," the driver continued, "thusly." He wrenched the slip into three pieces. "This"—and he held up one printed end—"is pasted on the package." Picking up a brush, he pushed it into the dextrin can and smeared the back of the bit of paper and smoothed it down on the package. "The middle piece we keep," he added, "and the other end goes with the—bunch of waybills I hand to the messenger on the train. That's the whole of it, Mr. McKenzie."
The junior partner examined the package carefully, then laughed as he turned away. "Simple enough when you know how, Al," he remarked. "Much obliged for your trouble." He then went out of the office.
Reeves took the package and laid it on the floor by the stove with a number of other outgoing parcels. After that he went on unloading his wagon and making ready for his afternoon delivery.
"I ought to've told McKenzie," muttered Reeves, "that his package got in too late for Seventeen, and will have to lay over until to-morrow at eleven. But I reckon it don't make much difference. The package will be in Dry Wash to-morrow afternoon. Long & McKenzie are mighty good about givin' us stuff they could send by parcel post. Our business ain't fell off much with that firm."
Joe Summerfield came in presently with a smile you could have seen a block away, and walked into his cage. He was busy getting his office in shape for the traveling agent. This gentleman was supposed to drop in every three months, but he had a way of showing up at any old time.
"How's Lois, Joe?"
Summerfield looked up to see the grinning, impish face of the driver pressed against the cage wires. "Oh, you go chase yourself!" he laughed, and threw a paper weight.
About three o'clock that afternoon, while Summerfield was alone in the office and busy at his desk, he heard a sound behind him, and turned in his
