Red rode old Buckskin, who had succumbed to the inevitable, and only “jumped around a little,” as Red put it, on being mounted.  It was pretty lively “jumping around,” but perhaps Mr. Saunders found some satisfaction in sitting perfectly at his ease, smoking his cigarette, while Buck jumped and Fairfield admired.  And, at any rate, Buck had legs of iron, and the wind of a locomotive, carrying Red all day, and willing to kick at anything which bothered him when night came.  He was a splendid beast through and through, from forelock to tail-tip, but he had learned who was his master and obeyed him accordingly.

It was a five mile ride, mostly under the shade of fine old trees.  The road wound around the hills; here and there a break in the arboreal border showed views of rolling country, well-shaped and pleasing, winding up grassy slopes in groves of verdure.  Of course most of the freshness of leaf was past, yet the modest gray-green gave a silvery sheen to the landscape that brought it into unity.

One member of the party felt that his heart was very full as he looked at it.  That was Lettis.  “Blast the old office!” he kept saying to himself.  “Blast its six dingy windows, and the clock at the end!  Doesn’t this look good, and doesn’t it smell good, dust and all?” and then he’d howl at the horses in sheer exuberance of good feeling, making the mild old brutes put a better foot of it to the front.

Red cantered up beside his waggon.  “Well, Lettis,” he said, “here we go for the opening overture, with the full strength of the company—­we’re great people this day, ain’t we?” And the big man smiled like a pleased big boy.

“Oh, what a bully old fellow you are!” thought Lettis as he looked at him.  Lettis was thinking of other qualities than flesh, but the physical Red Saunders on horseback was deserving of a glance from anybody; the massive figure so well poised; the clear cut, proud profile; the shapely head with its crown of red-gold hair; the easy grace of him by virtue of his strength—­it would be a remarkable crowd in which Chanta Seechee Red couldn’t pass for a man.  He was every inch of that from the ground up.

Lettis had come to bow down to him in adoration, with all an affectionate boy’s worship.  To those eyes Red was just right, in every particular.  Likewise to Miss Mattie, who even now was filling her eyes with him, from behind the vantage of a broad-brimmed straw hat.

At last the whole party disembarked at the flat before the mill, and made ready for the official starting of the machinery.  The big doors were thrown open, so that the company could see within while resting outside in the shade, and under the cooling influence of what breeze there was.  The mill was officially started.  Red climbed the bank to the flume, and raised the gate.  The crowd cheered as the imprisoned waters leapt to freedom with a hollow roar, raising in pitch as the penstock filled and the wheels began to go round.  Speech was called for, and the vigorously protesting Red forced to the front by his former friends, Demilt and Lettis.  Thus betrayed by those he trusted, Red made the best of it.