Sally's smile had grown into a chuckle. "Mr. Gilfeather has rather a nice saloon," she repeated, "as saloons go. I've been there."
Fox laughed, but Miss Patty did not. She turned a horrified face to Sally.
"Oh, Sally!" she cried. "Whatever—"
"I had to see him about his daughter. He was always in his saloon. The conclusion is obvious, as Mr. MacDalie says."
"Oh, Sally!" cried Patty again. "You know you didn't."
"And who," asked Fox, "is Sawny?"
"Sawny," Sally answered, hurrying a little to speak before Patty should speak for her, "Sawny is a what, not a who. He is Everett Morton's horse, and a very good horse, I believe."
"He seems to be in favor with the multitude." The shouting and yelling had broken out afresh, far down the lines. "Or is it his owner?"
Sally shook her head. "It is Sawny," she replied. "I don't know how the multitude regards Everett. Probably Mr. Gilfeather knows more about that than I do."
They had taken their place in the line of sleighs and were ambling along close to the rope. The sleighs in the line were so close that the stout horse had his nose almost in the neck of a nervous man just ahead, who kept looking back, while Fox could feel the breath of the horse behind.