"It's heavy, Gan," she said, with a glance at Angus.
"Is it?" said Gavin, gripping the handles. He lifted it without apparent effort, and set it on his right shoulder. "I may be able to stagger along with it," he told her ironically. "Would you like me to carry you, too?"
"You can't!"
"Can't I?" laughed the blond giant. "Have you any money left to bet on that?"
"Five dollars that you can't carry me and the trunk—upstairs and to my room."
"My five," said her brother. "Come here." With the trunk on his shoulder he bent his knees till he squatted low on the balls of his feet. "Now sit on my shoulder and put your right arm around my neck. Give me your left hand. All set?"
"All set."
Angus watched with interest, doubtful if he could do it. But slowly, steadily, without shake or tremor the knees of the big man began to straighten, and his shoulders topped by girl and trunk to rise, until he stood upright. Upright he hitched to get a better balance, and strode off for the house as easily as Angus himself would have carried a sack of oats. Kathleen looked back at him and laughed.
"Good-by, Angus. Thank you ever so much—and come and see me."
The last thing Angus saw as he wheeled the colts for home, was the burdened bulk of Gavin French stooping for the doorway.