In the meanwhile Nevis had been considering how he could best make use of the information she had supplied him, and his mind was still occupied with the question when he drove across the prairie that afternoon. It was a fiercely hot day, and the wide grassland, which had turned dusty white again, was flooded with dazzling light. The usual invigorating breeze was still, and Nevis's horse had fallen to a walk, pursued by a cloud of flies, when he made out the mail-carrier plodding slowly down the rut-marked trail in front of him. Nevis was quite aware that a prairie mail-carrier is usually more or less acquainted with the affairs of every farmer in the district he visits, and he pulled up when he overtook him.
"What's the matter with your horse?" he asked. "Isn't it stipulated that you should keep one?"
"That's so," assented the man. "The trouble is that you can't get a horse that won't go lame on a round like this. I had to leave him at Stretton's an hour ago."
"Going far?" Nevis asked.
"Round by Mrs. Calvert's to the ravine."
Nevis decided that he was fortunate, but he carefully concealed any sign of satisfaction.
"I can give you a lift as far as the first place, if you like to get in."
The man was glad to do so, and Nevis presently handed him a cigar.
"Do you get letters for all the farms every round?"
"No," replied his companion; "I'm quite glad I don't; guess I'd use up two horses if I did. It saves me a league or two when I can cut out some of my visits."