Mal had the tree down by the time she got back, and loudly directed her in placing the wheels under one end of it. He had trimmed the ends of the axle log into rough rounds, and once the wheels were in place split the ends and placed cross-wedges in them.

"Thing is," he said, "the wheels have to turn on the axle, not with it—else it'd walk right off the end of the tree." Paks hadn't thought of that problem. Nor had she noticed the can of grease he'd brought to put on the axle. She did wonder how he'd gotten the large end of the tree into the cart. Surely he wasn't that strong. She glanced overhead for something he might have slung a line from.

"Don't look up," he warned quietly. Paks froze. "If you want to know how I lifted that monster," he said more loudly, "I used its own limbs for levers. Trimmed 'em after, that's how I do it. Some men use lines, but then they have to have a taller tree nearby. Not always handy. By Gird, I'm thirsty!" He drained the can at one swallow.

The journey back was slower; Mal's pony moved the tree at an easy footpace. The black horse fretted. Paks got off again and walked alongside. When they reached Eris's, they picked up the apples; Mal told Paks what the current price was, and she left it wrapped in the cloth Eris had put over the baskets. From there into town they talked softly of what Paks had seen. Mal said he had spotted a watcher in the trees. They agreed it would be too dangerous to scout the game trail if the brigands were still so alert.

It was nearly dark when they passed the grange; Ambros and several other yeomen were talking in the barton gateway, and called greetings.

"You can come help me on the bridge," Mal yelled back. "Paks here isn't much of a teamster."

"That's not a team," Paks retorted, sure by now that such joking was acceptable.

"I'd be glad to hitch your black up and let him do some work," said Mal.

"I doubt that." Ambros came up to them. "You weren't there the first time she saddled him. He'd be impossible in harness. Come on Jori, give us a hand here." Ambros and the other yeoman helped Mal get the wheels aligned on the bridge. Still talking, they followed along. Mal untied the log beside the Council Hall, and drove it off the back wheels. Then he let the weight drag it out of the Cart. His pony gave a heavy sigh as the log fell, and the men laughed.

"Come on to the inn," said Mal. "I'll buy a mug for you."