THE RUNAWAY ROAD
with "But my White Pony is very cruelly thirsty."
Both adventurers looked pretty jaded with heat and dust.
The Youngish Man led the way into a tiny, pungent wood-path that ended in a gurgling spring-hole, where the White Pony nuzzled his nose with deepbreathed, dripping satisfaction, while the Girl kept to her saddle and looked down on the Youngish Man with frank interest.
He looked very picturesque and brown and clever in his khaki suit with a game bag slung across his shoulder.
"You're not a hunter," she exclaimed impulsively. "You're not a hunter—because you have n't any gun."
"No," said the Man, "I'm a collector."
The Girl cried out with pleasure and clapped her hands. "A collector?—oh, goody! So am I! What do you collect? Minerals? Oh—dear! Mine is lots more interesting. I collect adventures."
"Adventures?" The Man made no slightest effort to conceal his amused curiosity. "Adventures? Now I call that a jolly thing to collect. Is it a good country to work in? And what have you found?"
The Girl smiled at him appreciatively—a little
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