It was a rough ride, the narrow down-hill road turning abruptly more than once; then came a short cut across country through seldom-used lanes, with a field to cross before reaching the broad mill road.

At first, Victor was disposed to repent his sudden yielding; disposed to display that repentance very actively. And then Victor realized that the hand on the bridle rein was firm and steady—the hand of the master; and that his rider, if only a girl, knew how to ride.

And all the way, above the hurry and excitement, above her anxiety for Alec, one thought rang triumphantly through Blue Bonnet’s mind—she was not afraid.

Dr. Clark, gathering up the reins, preparatory to leaving Nesbit’s, saw the hurrying horse and waited. Ten chances to one, he was wanted.

“Well!” he exclaimed, as Blue Bonnet drew up beside the gig, “any of you girls come a cropper?”

“It’s Alec, Dr. Clark!” Slipping out of the saddle, Blue Bonnet told her errand. “I’ll go back with you,” she added. “Victor’s had pretty hard service this afternoon; I’ll leave him here for some one to look after him, and take him home by and by.”

“Well, Miss Elizabeth, you surely can ride!” the doctor said, as Blue Bonnet climbed in beside him; and he marvelled over the sudden lighting up of her blue eyes.

Kitty was watching anxiously for them, “Alec seems some better, papa,” she said; “I am glad you’ve come.”

Alec was lying before the fire, his head resting on an impromptu pillow made of the girls’ jackets. He smiled deprecatingly, at sight of the doctor. “It’s too bad, sir, to have brought you ’way up here. I’d have been all right presently.”

“Nice retired little spot you chose to do this in,” Dr. Clark said, his hand on Alec’s pulse. “Suppose you’d been alone, young man? Kitty, isn’t there a spring about here?” the doctor took out his medicine case.

“Where’s Blue Bonnet?” Alec asked.

“I’m here,” the girl answered. She was sitting back of him, at one corner of the fireplace.

“Did Victor go—well?”

“Magnificently.”

Alec tried to raise himself. “Not just yet,” the doctor told him. He stood a moment, looking down at the group. “Sarah, I’m going to leave you and Elizabeth here with Alec; I’ll drive round by the General’s, and have the carriage sent up—it’ll be easier than the gig. Debby and Kitty can go back with me. I’ll stop at your place, Elizabeth, and at the parsonage.”

Sarah followed the doctor to the gig. “Is Alec all right now?” she asked.

“He’s a good deal better; just keep him quiet.”

Sarah went back to the cabin. Blue Bonnet had piled on fresh sticks and dried moss, and the little place was warm and bright.

“It’s a real adventure, isn’t it?” she said, as they listened to Nannie picking her careful way down the rough, hillside road.

“I bet you two are hungry,” Alec answered.

“Being a little hungry is part of the fun,” Blue Bonnet declared; “it’s like being besieged, or cast on a desert island.”

“With the comforting certainty of being rescued,” Sarah added.

“I reckon Aunt Lucinda’s wondering what mischief I’m up to now,” Blue Bonnet laughed; “I was to be in before dark without fail.”

“Where’s Victor?” Alec asked suddenly.

“I left him at Nesbit’s; Jim’s going to take him home after a while,” Blue Bonnet answered. She leaned forward, reading the unspoken question in Alec’s eyes. “Everything’s all right,” she said earnestly. “Wasn’t it good, Blue Bonnet, that Victor let you ride him, and that you weren’t afraid?” Sarah said.

Blue Bonnet threw a handful of dried cones on the fire. “I think Victor really enjoyed that ride—I know I did.”

The talk died down; Alec seemed drowsy, and the other two were anxious not to disturb him. Once Sarah asked in a whisper, “Blue Bonnet, what are you thinking about?”

Blue Bonnet’s eyes were on the fire, seeing pictures there in the flickering lights that Sarah could only guess at. “Different things,” she answered slowly.

“They must be pleasant thoughts.”

“They are. Sarah, did you ever have a wish—a very special wish—come true?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah said thoughtfully; “I try not to wish for things that can’t come true.”

“There’s the carriage, Sarah.” Blue Bonnet jumped up.

A moment or so later, they heard it draw up before the cabin; the next instant, General Trent stood in the low doorway, shading his eyes from the glare of the fire.

“Grandfather!” Alec exclaimed, “you shouldn’t have come, sir!”

“What in the world have you been up to, Alec?” the General asked. Lifting the boy, he carried him out to the carriage, in spite of Alec’s protestations that he was quite able to walk.

Norah had sent a plentiful supply of pillows and shawls, and Alec was made warm and comfortable on the back seat, with Sarah beside him to see that he kept his manifold wrappings on. “I’ll never, never do it again,” he declared. “Sarah, I simply won’t have another pillow near me.”

Blue Bonnet was in front with the General. Once down the stony, winding road and out on the broad, level mill road, the latter turned to her, laying a hand on her loosely clasped ones.

“You’ve put me under a big obligation to-day, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “Upon my word, I wish I’d been there to see that ride.”

“I’ve only been trying to pay my debts a little, General,” the girl answered; “Alec’s been mighty good to me—lots of times. And besides, I—oh, I am glad I went.”

“Which doesn’t in the least alter what I have just said, Miss Elizabeth.”

Supper had been over for some time when Blue Bonnet reached home; but Miss Lucinda had arranged a little round table for her by the sitting-room fire, where she supped quite in state.

“And you rode Victor!” Aunt Lucinda said. Dr. Clark’s few hurried words of explanation and praise had sent a thrill of pride through Miss Clyde. “My dear, suppose he had thrown you!” “But he didn’t, Aunt Lucinda; he behaved beautifully, after the first. And he did go—it was riding!”

And when, presently, Miss Clyde had gone over to inquire about Alec, Blue Bonnet came to sit in her favorite place, the hearth-rug, her head on her grandmother’s knee. “Grandmother,” she said softly, “I’m very—happy.”

Mrs. Clyde smoothed back the tumbled hair with a hand that trembled a little. “And I, too, dear—though possibly from a different reason. I am very glad I didn’t know about that ride at the time, Blue Bonnet.”

“Grandmother, there’s some use now trying to make myself fit to go back—I’m not afraid any more. I don’t think I ever shall be—again. I was,—when Sarah asked me to go,—horribly afraid. Then Victor wouldn’t let me mount, and I forgot everything else but my determination to make him. And then, oh, Grandmother, just when it was the hardest,—after we were off, I mean, and Victor was acting—rather lively,—it suddenly came over me that I wasn’t in the least afraid.”

“I am very glad, dear. Do you remember wanting to do something ‘very particular’ for Alec?”

“But Grandmother, this wasn’t anything! Kitty would have gone if I hadn’t.”

“Kitty would have had to walk, dear, and you were only just in time to catch the doctor. In such cases, the sooner help comes the better.”

For a moment Blue Bonnet did not answer. When she did speak, it was to ask, “Grandmother, can it be arranged? I should like to have a saddle-horse now.”

“I think it can, dear.”

“General Trent said something about a mare belonging to Mr. Darrel. I’ve seen her; she is a beauty—such a match for Victor.”

“Must it be a match for Victor?”

Blue Bonnet laughed. “I shouldn’t like it to be a match for Kitty’s Black Pete.”

“Well, we’ll see about it the first of the week,” Mrs. Clyde promised; “now, I think the best thing for you to do is to go to bed.”

“I’m not one bit sleepy,” Blue Bonnet answered,—“only sort of queer and shivery.”

At which Mrs. Clyde hurried her off to bed at once, coming herself to see that she was well tucked in, and to bring her a nice warm drink.

The next morning, it was a flushed and hoarse Blue Bonnet who looked up as her grandmother came in to see how she was. Mrs. Clyde decided that she must stay in bed until after breakfast, at least.

Breakfast in bed was a new experience for Blue Bonnet; and when Aunt Lucinda brought up the tray, with its pretty, sprigged individual breakfast service, that had been her mother’s, Blue Bonnet thought being an invalid very delightful.

The more so, as after breakfast she was allowed to come down to the sitting-room. She found Mrs. Clyde alone, Aunt Lucinda having gone to church.

The weather had changed during the night; to-day it was gray and lowering, with a promise of rain in the damp wind sweeping the scattered leaves up drive and over lawn.

Blue Bonnet curled herself up in a big chair at one side of the glowing fire, with a favorite book. In her deep-red dressing-gown, and pretty, fur-trimmed red slippers, she made a vivid spot of color in the somber room. And Mrs. Clyde, looking up from her own book more than once, wondered how she was ever to bear the parting with this second Elizabeth.

“I wonder how Alec is, Grandmother?” Blue Bonnet said, glancing up. “Don’t you think I might go over for just a few minutes this afternoon?”

“I would rather that you didn’t go out to-day, dear; probably your aunt will bring word when she comes home.”

And Miss Clyde did bring word that Alec was much better; but, like Blue Bonnet, kept at home.

“Did you see Solomon, Aunt Lucinda?” Blue Bonnet asked.

“He was down at the gate watching when I came from church.” “I suppose he wonders where I am,” Blue Bonnet said longingly; “I haven’t said good morning to him, yet.”

Miss Lucinda went away to take off her hat and coat. She came back soon, behind her a little wriggling brown dog, who was all over Blue Bonnet in a moment, licking her hands and all of her face he could reach.

“Solomon, you darling!” then Blue Bonnet looked at her aunt. “Aunt Lucinda, did you tell him he might come?”

Miss Clyde smiled. “Well,” she said slowly, “Solomon has improved a good deal lately; it seems as if he were entitled to a few extra privileges. As for Solomon’s mistress, I am quite sure she is—after yesterday afternoon.”

“Solomon, do you hear?” Blue Bonnet bent to pat Solomon, who by now was sitting sedately on the hearth-rug, looking about the room with approving eyes. “You’re promoted, Solomon, and it’s up to you, sir, not to get demoted. It’s a terrible disgrace, Solomon, to be demoted.”

By the next day the rain had come; and Blue Bonnet, though much better, was kept at home from school. At first, the prospect of a long, idle day was delightful, the only drawback being that it must be passed indoors; but before noontime came, Blue Bonnet was actually wishing that she might go to school. “Honestly, I’m all right, Grandmother,” she coaxed; “at home, I never stay in on account of rain.”

“Not before to-morrow morning, dear,” Mrs. Clyde answered. “If you are as much better then, you shall go.”

Blue Bonnet stirred impatiently. “I—I just hate having to stay home from school!” she declared.

Miss Clyde looked up from her sewing. “Blue Bonnet, suppose you make out a classified list of all the things you really do hate.”

Blue Bonnet colored. “I don’t believe it would be a very long one,” she said, after a moment.

“Nor I,” her aunt answered.

“I wish I could get word to the girls, maybe some of them would come up after school.”

“I think,” Mrs. Clyde said, “it is a case where mental telepathy will prove quite adequate.”

She was right; the six other members of the “We are Seven’s” appeared in a body, as soon after school as possible.

“Well, Blue Bonnet Ashe,” Kitty said, “why weren’t you at school?”

“I couldn’t come.”

“We missed you a lot,” Debby assured her.

“And the ‘rankin’ officer’ didn’t have to read the riot act nearly as much as usual—not more than once, for a fact!” Kitty added. “Whom did she read it to that once?” Blue Bonnet asked.

“To Kitty,” Ruth answered, “Kitty got a precious raking-over.”

“It was very ungrateful in her,” Kitty declared; “I was only trying to keep her from missing Blue Bonnet too much.”

They gathered about the fire in the back parlor, talking and laughing, their voices sending pleasant echoes through the old house.

Presently Delia appeared with hot chocolate, and the little frosted cakes, the recipe for which was a Clyde secret.

“Here be luxury!” Kitty cried. “Blue Bonnet, do you have these cakes all the time?”

“Not for breakfast—as a rule.”

“Alec wasn’t at school, either,” Sarah said; “but he’s a great deal better.”

“Oh, Blue Bonnet!” Amanda leaned forward eagerly; “wasn’t it awful riding Victor?”

“See here, Blue Bonnet Ashe,” Kitty broke in excitedly; “I simply can’t stand it another moment.”

“But you seem to be sitting down,” Blue Bonnet said.

“I’ve got to know why—when you could ride—and ride like that—you wouldn’t.”

“It doesn’t strike me as such a very necessary piece of knowledge,” Blue Bonnet answered. “Now you’re hedging—I feel it in your voice!”

Blue Bonnet’s color rose. “I was.”

“Kitty,” Debby protested, “how can you!”

Kitty laughed mischievously. “Look here, Debby, you go play in your own back yard, that’s a good girl.”

“And you haven’t told Blue Bonnet your idea,” Susy put in.

“Has she one?” Blue Bonnet asked politely.

“You go play with Debby, Susy,” Kitty advised. “Now, Blue Bonnet, I’m waiting to hear your reason.”

“You’ll have to wait a good while, Kitty.”

“I sha’n’t tell you my idea—and it’s a beauty—until you tell me what I want to know, Blue Bonnet Ashe.”

“Then you’ll never tell me it, little Miss Why.”

Across the low tea-table their eyes met; it was the gray, not the blue ones, which wavered first. “Keep your old secret,” Kitty pouted. “Sarah, you can tell the idea—I won’t.”

“Kitty thought,” Sarah began, anxious to steer the conversation into smoother channels, “that it would be nice for us seven to form a riding club.”

“How perfectly lovely!” Blue Bonnet went to sit beside Kitty on the lounge.

“Then you do like to ride?” the latter asked.

“I adore it! But Sarah,” Blue Bonnet turned wonderingly, “I thought you didn’t ride.” “I used to a little; I think I shall take it up again.”

“Oh, Sarah’s only going into it from a sense of duty,” Kitty warned, “and it’ll be our duty to see that she gets her money’s worth. Were you expecting to be able to ride Victor, Sarah, before the season’s over?”

“Kitty, sometimes you are positively rude.”

“Pass the cakes to Kitty, Amanda, please,” Blue Bonnet asked.

“We thought,” Sarah went on, “that we’d try to ride together every Saturday afternoon.”

“And it’s to be a real club,” Kitty broke in, “with dues—”

“There’ll be more doings than dues where you are, Kitty,” Susy exclaimed.

“And we must have a clubroom,” Ruth added, “where we can meet when the weather’s too bad for riding.”

“Or on the days when Blue Bonnet doesn’t want to ride, and won’t tell why,” Kitty said.

“On stormy days we could bring our work, and one of us could read aloud,” Sarah suggested; “travels, or something instructive.”

“You’ll be traveling, Sarah Blake, if you spring any more such ideas on us!” Kitty protested. “Now, let’s form, here and now.”

Blue Bonnet was unanimously chosen president; Sarah, treasurer. “That’ll be enough officers,” Kitty insisted. Membership was to be limited to the “We are Seven’s,” but each member would be entitled to invite one friend for the rides.

And then suddenly the new president gave a cry of dismay. “I can’t join—not before next month. I haven’t any money!” she cried.

“But it’s only twenty-five cents!” Kitty said.

“I haven’t five cents!”

“I’ll lend you the money,” Susy said.

“I can’t borrow.”

“You needn’t pay up until next month,” Debby suggested.

“Well, we’ll find a way,” Susy promised, as they rose to go.

Blue Bonnet was standing by the sitting-room window, watching them down the street, when Alec came up behind her. “How’s the invalid?” he asked.

She turned eagerly. “Isn’t that for you to say? You are better, Alec?”

“Better! I’m all right; though I nearly brought on another collapse trying to assure Grandfather of the fact.”

They sat down before the fire, Blue Bonnet telling him of the new club.

“You’ve got your wish, haven’t you, Blue Bonnet?” the boy said.

“Yes,—thanks to you and Victor.”

“Thanks to nobody but yourself.” Alec rose. “I promised Grandfather not to stay long; I had to come over—to thank you—I mean, to try to.”

“Please don’t—it wasn’t anything.”

Not anything! Alec thought of the girl sitting with bowed head on the stile—“Not anything!” he repeated gravely.

“And it brought me—everything.”

“Blue Bonnet, I’m mighty glad of that; all the same, I’ll never forget.” At the door, he stopped.

he sang softly.

It was Grandmother who found “the way.”

Blue Bonnet told her of the new club that evening during the twilight talk which had become a regular institution. “I might write to Uncle Cliff—he’d send me all the money I wanted; that wouldn’t be borrowing, nor running ahead. I suppose, though, Aunt Lucinda wouldn’t like that?”

“Or you might come to me,” Mrs. Clyde suggested.

“But I thought—”

“Oh, I shall not lend you anything; neither shall I give you very much,—seeing that your aunt is trying to teach you a much needed lesson in forethought,—but I think, considering how and why your allowance was used, dear, that I may be allowed to stretch a point this time.” And then Grandmother went on to propose that the club should make use of one of the rooms in the ell,—a big, sunny room, with convenient access to the back stairway.

“Grandmother!” Blue Bonnet declared, “it’ll be perfectly lovely. You are certainly the dearest grandmother that ever was!”

The new club went on its first ride the following Saturday afternoon. The mounts were varied. Blue Bonnet, on Darrel’s mare, leading the march, both figuratively and literally. Debby, Ruth, and Susy had mustered fairly good horses; Kitty’s Black Pete had occasional moments of brilliancy, and more than occasional ones of obstinacy; Amanda’s sober gray mare was quite as active as Amanda wished; while Sarah plodded along on what Kitty called the most ministerial of horses, taking her ride as gravely as she did most things.

“Sarah!” Kitty demanded impatiently, “did your mother tell you not to go out of sight of the house?”

Sarah’s light blue eyes expressed wonder. “Certainly not; how could I be out riding if she had?”

“Oh, you are out riding!” Kitty said. “I thought you were standing still!” Blue Bonnet wheeled about. “As president of this club, I positively forbid any more impertinence from our youngest member. You are the youngest, you know, Kitty—you’re only fourteen. Come on, Sarah.”

“She says she is coming,” Kitty retorted. “She’s moving almost as fast as a glacier.”

Blue Bonnet’s rides were by no means confined to the weekly ones with the club. Darrel’s mare had been transferred to the Clyde stables; and on most afternoons, a slender, bright-faced girl in dark blue riding-habit was to be seen riding at a brisk pace in and out about Woodford. Sometimes with one or more companions; often alone; but always attended by a small brown dog, who appeared to think these riding expeditions had been instituted for his special benefit.

They were coming home one afternoon—Blue Bonnet and Solomon—from a swift canter, when Blue Bonnet caught sight of some one waiting on the front piazza. The girl’s heart gave a sudden leap. With a quick dash forward, she reached the steps as Mr. Ashe came down them.

“Honey!” the latter exclaimed.

“Uncle Cliff! When did you come?”

“Got here about an hour ago, Honey.” He held out his arms, and she slipped lightly into them, to be held very closely for a moment before he let her go. “You’ve been here a whole hour—and I never knew!” Blue Bonnet said.

“Oh, well, I calculated on staying over night, Eliza—”

Instantly her hand was over his mouth. “You’re not to call me that! I’m Blue Bonnet.”

Uncle Cliff laughed. “I reckon you are Blue Bonnet all right.”

They went indoors together; Blue Bonnet clinging to him as if she could never let him go again. Half-way down the hall, Mr. Ashe stopped abruptly, holding her off at arm’s length. “You’ve grown, Honey,—and,” he could keep the words back no longer, “Honey, you came up the drive just now like your father’s own girl. See here, Blue Bonnet, your grandmother’s been telling me something that you should have told me long ago; she’s been telling me the sequel of the story, too. Never you say again you’re not an Ashe ‘clear through.’ My, but Uncle Joe’s going to be proud to hear of it.”

“I wish he had come, too.”

“He sent you a bit of the ranch—in damp cotton.”

Blue Bonnet was half-way upstairs in a moment. She came down to supper, with some of the blue bonnets at the throat of her white wool blouse, and they were not bluer than the shining eyes above them. The club received Mr. Ashe enthusiastically, though at heart a little anxiously. Kitty had promptly voiced this anxiety in the first moment of meeting him, the day after his arrival. “Have you come to take Blue Bonnet back?” she demanded.

Mr. Ashe’s only answer was a little laugh that might have meant yes, or no.

Kitty was not the only one to ask the question, though perhaps the only one to put it so bluntly. Grandmother asked it with her eyes a good many times during the days that followed.

“But he couldn’t take her back,” Ruth said, one afternoon; “she came to go to school.”

“He’s her guardian—she has to do whatever he says,” Debby added.

Kitty shook her red head wisely. “You mean, he has to do whatever she says, and if she wants to go—I tell you one thing, we’ll mob him if he tries it.”

Mr. Ashe was to be the guest of honor at the club’s ride that day; following the ride, the club were to be his guests at a dinner at the hotel. A dinner at which the souvenirs were gold stick-pins in the form of miniature riding whips—and which were adopted as the club emblem then and there. Altogether, a delightful affair, with menu cards and table decorations bearing witness to the fact that it was a dinner given to a riding club. “All the same,” Kitty faced Mr. Ashe squarely across the low horseshoe mound of flowers, “you can’t have Blue Bonnet!”

“Why not?” he asked.

“She belongs to us.”

“Oh, she does, does she?” Mr. Ashe said; his glance went from Kitty’s saucy, piquant little face to Blue Bonnet’s happy one. Blue Bonnet was getting to belong to a good many people nowadays it seemed.

“It has all been perfectly lovely,” Blue Bonnet told him, as they rode home together in the frosty starlight; she brought her horse a little nearer, laughing up into her uncle’s face, “and you behaved beautifully.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Of course, but—I was a little bit afraid you might—Sarah’s horse is so—even Amanda’s for that matter—and Black Pete sometimes—”

“My dear,” Mr. Ashe replied, gravely, “one of the earliest lessons taught me in my childhood was respect—for my elders!”

Blue Bonnet was very happy those days. As for Uncle Cliff, he looked on and wondered; it was the Blue Bonnet he had always known—and yet a different one. A less heedless, inconsequent, Blue Bonnet; one more thoughtful of the comfort of others.

He said something of this that evening to Mrs. Clyde. “I suppose it’s being with women,” he said. “You’re making a little woman out of her—I reckon it’s what her mother would have wished—only, don’t take all the spirit out of her.”

“Not much danger of that,” Mrs. Clyde answered; “a little taming down will do no harm.”

“It hasn’t so far. She seems to like it back here all right.”

“But loves the ranch; we shall never make an Easterner of her, Mr. Ashe.”

Some one came up the path whistling “All the Blue Bonnets”; and from the veranda sounded Blue Bonnet’s answering call.

“Who’s been taking up my tune?” Mr. Ashe asked.

“That was Alec; he and Blue Bonnet are great chums.”

“He’s a nice boy,—a bit too delicate; we’ll have to have him out on the ranch next summer.”

He told Blue Bonnet so later.

“Yes,” Blue Bonnet agreed; “and then he will get his wish too.”

The next day, Mr. Ashe spoke to Blue Bonnet about going home. It was Sunday, and they had been for a long walk together; to the woods to see the brook she had followed that never-to-be-forgotten day; through the meadow, where she had sat homesick and forlorn, that afternoon of her second running away from school. He had heard the stories of both those runnings away; had heard, indeed, pretty much everything that had happened during the past few months; and now, standing by the meadow gate, he asked suddenly, “Well, Honey, how about going back with me?”

She looked up quickly. “Going back—with you—now, Uncle Cliff?”

“Yes, Blue Bonnet—when a girl loves the ranch, loves everything the life there stands for, and isn’t afraid to ride, I don’t see that there’s anything left to do but take her West.”

Before he had finished speaking, Blue Bonnet’s face was hidden against his arm. “Oh, but I love you for saying that, Uncle Cliff! And I do love it out there—and I’d love to go back—and yet—Grandmother thinks I ought to wait and make myself ready; I’m not nearly ready, yet.”

“Aren’t you, Honey? You seem so to me. But what do you think about it, Blue Bonnet?”

She waited a moment,—and the old Blue Bonnet would not have waited. “I’m afraid—I think so, too.”

“Maybe you’re right, Honey. We’ll try it a while longer—if you say. Suppose I leave you here until Spring.”

“I could go home for the summer?” Blue Bonnet said.

“Could!—I reckon you’re going to get the first train out of here, as soon as school closes. As for coming back next fall,—we’ll wait and see.”

“And Solomon’s coming too,” Blue Bonnet said, stooping to pat the dog lying patiently at her feet. Solomon was tired and hungry; he didn’t understand why people waited to talk out-of-doors when their business of walking was over.

“There’ll be room for Solomon,” Mr. Ashe said; “he isn’t a bad specimen of a dog—minds pretty well.”

“Solomon’s improved a lot,” Blue Bonnet said. “Oh, but he will love the ranch. I wonder what Don will say to him; and whether Solomon will be as much of a surprise to the Texas dogs as I’ve been to the Woodford girls.”

A little later, Mr. Ashe entered the sitting-room alone; Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda looked up, the same unspoken question on the lips of both.

Mr. Ashe came forward. “Well,” he said, a little sadly, “it appears that I am to go back alone—this trip.”