Part 27 (2/2)

”Where?” breathlessly hurrying along by his side.

”The avenue makes a big curve above here, before it gets to the fork, and we can go straight up this next street and head 'em off, maybe--they're going pretty slow.”

”I don't b'lieve we can.”

”We'll try it anyhow. You're not tired?”

”Oh, no!”

Racing over long stretches, slowing to catch breath, then running again,--thus the fork was finally reached. But no Lone Star or the thud of his feet greeted eyes or ears.

”I might have known we couldn't go as fast as Lone Star!” David exclaimed disgustedly.

”You don't s'pose they've gone up to Cherry Hill Park, do you?”

questioned Polly. ”It's just above here, you know.”

”Perhaps. Want to try it?”

Of course she did, and on they trudged, taking note of neither time nor distance, until all at once Polly was conscious of weariness.

”It seems further afoot than in an automobile, doesn't it?” she laughed.

”Yes,” nodded David; ”but we're almost there. Wonder which road they'd be likely to take.”

Polly could not even guess, so they followed the driveways at random, on, and on, and on.

There was no lack of company. Young men and women, walking cozily close; wandering lovers from over the sea, like children hand in hand; groups of laughing, chattering girls and boys;--all these, but never a Lone Star or a dignified Colonel with his possible sweetheart.

”Let's sit down and rest,” proposed David. ”You must be tired.”

They dropped on a convenient bench, and Polly let go a sleepy little yawn.

”I don't believe there's any use in waiting round here,” began David.

Polly did not reply. Her head was drooping.

The lad drew her gently to his shoulder.

”I guess--I was 'most--asleep,” she said drowsily, and shut her eyes again.

The pa.s.sers-by glanced curiously at the two on the bench. Soon there were few to look, then none at all.

David leaned his head against the slatted back. It was not an easy pillow, but it gave the needed relief, and he slept.

”David Collins, I b'lieve you're fast asleep!”

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