"He can put in the evening that way if it's necessary.

It will supple him, and I guess he needs it.

I have a rig ready.

You're coming along with me." Weston took his place in the light, four-wheeled vehicle, and found it difficult to keep it, for the trail was villainous, and Stirling drove rapidly.

Their way led between shadowy colonnades of towering firs, and the fragile, two-seated frame bounced and lurched into and out of deep ruts, and over the split trees that had been laid flat-side downward in the quaggy places--like a field gun going into action was the best comparison Weston could think of.