Down the slope they drove and up another foothill to the
ranch-house of Wiley Wilson. Trinidad recited his appeal and the
Judge boomed out his ponderous antiphony. Mrs. Wiley gathered her
two rosy-cheeked youngsters close to her skirts and did not smile
until she had seen Wiley laugh and shake his head. Again a
refusal.
Trinidad and the Judge vainly exhausted more than half their
list before twilight set in among the hills. They spent the night
at a stage road hostelry, and set out again early the next morning.
The wagon had not acquired a single passenger.
"It's creepin' upon my faculties," remarked Trinidad, "that
borrowin' kids at Christmas is somethin' like tryin' to steal
butter from a man that's got hot pancakes a-comin'."
"It is undoubtedly an indisputable fact," said t
