Then he explained that Wyllard had sent Winifred there, and the woman favoured her with a glance of careful scrutiny.
"Weel," she said, "ye look quiet, anyway." Then she added, as though further satisfied, "I'll make ye a cup of tea if ye can wait."
Sproatly assured her that this was not the case, and in a few more minutes the girl, who went into the house, got into the waggon again, with relief in her face.
"I think I owe Mr. Wyllard a good deal," she said.
Sproatly laughed. "You're not exactly singular in that respect, but you had better hold tight. These beasts are rather less than half broken."
He flicked them with the whip, and they went across the track at a gallop, hurling great clods of mud left and right, while the group of loungers who still stood about the station raised a shout.
"Got any little pictures with nice motters on them?" asked one, and another flung a piece of information after the jolting waggon.
"There's a Swede down at Branker's wants a bottle that will supple up a wooden leg," he said.
Sproatly grinned, and waved his hand to them before he turned to his companion.
"We have to get through before dark, if possible, or I'd stop and sell them something sure," he said. "Parts of the trail further on are simply horrible."
It occurred to Winifred that it was far from excellent as it was, for spouts of mud flew up beneath the sinking hoofs and wheels, and she was already getting unpleasantly spattered.
"You think you would have succeeded?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," said Sproatly. "If I couldn't plant something on to them when they'd given me a lead like that, I'd be no use in this business. At present, my command of Western phraseology is my fortune."
Sproatly pointed to a couple of big boxes in the bottom of the waggon. "Anything from cough cure to hair restorer, besides a general purpose elixir that's specially prepared for me. It's adaptable to any complaint and season. All you have to do"--and he lowered his voice confidentially--"is to put on a different label."
Winifred, who had not felt like it a little earlier, laughed when she met his eyes.
"What happens to the people who buy it?" she asked.
"Most of them are bachelors, and tough. They've stood their own cooking so long that they ought to be, and if anybody's really sick I hold off and tell him to wait until he can get a doctor. A sensitive conscience," he added reflectively, "is quite a handicap in this business."