take chances on another day. Though nobody knows where it'll lead."
"Brooklyn, maybe," whispered Lou Max to Magee in mock horror.
The hermit donned his coat, attended to a few household duties, and led the delegation outside. Dolefully he locked the door of his shack. The four started down the mountain.
"Back to Baldpate with our cook," said Mr. Magee into the girl's ear. "I know now how Cæsar felt when he rode through Rome with his ex-foes festooned about his chariot wheels."
Mr. Max again chose the rear, triumphantly escorting Mr. Peters. As Mr. Magee and the girl swung into the lead, the former was moved to recur to the topic he had handled so amateurishly a short time before.
"I'll make you believe in me yet," he said.
She did not turn her head.
"The moment we reach the inn," he went on, "I shall come to you, with the package of money in my hand. Then you'll believe I want to help you"tell me you'll believe then."
