“A couple of thousand years ago, wasn't it?” Vic asked, smiling down on her. “If I don't play Sunrise needn't fail, even for Friday, the thirteenth.” “But it will fail without you. You pulled us to victory a year ago at the Thanksgiving game, and last fall the Sunrise goal line wasn't crossed the whole season with 'Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!' for a slogan. We must win this year. Then it will be a complete championship: football, basket-ball, and baseball. We won't do it though unless we have 'Burleigh at the bat'.” A shadow crossed his face and he looked away to where a tiny film of blue smoke was rising above the rough ledges beyond the river. “I'm getting over my stage fright now,” Elinor said, the pink deepening on her fair cheek, “and I'll tell you what I want.” “Command me!” he said, gallantly. “Well, it's awful, and the girls are too mean to live. But they are getting even with me, they say, for something I did last fall.” “All right.” Vic was waiting, graciously. “A lot of us have broken some of the rules of the Sorority and it's decreed that I must go over the route we came home by on the night of the storm down in the Kickapoo Corral. They are having a 'spread' down there at five o'clock and we are to get there in time for it, going by the west side of the river, and they'll bring us home. They said I should ask you to go with me, and if you would n't go for me to ask Mr. Trench to go. They are too silly for anything.” “Trench was executed for manslaughter at two forty-five today. It's three o'clock now. Let's go.” He lifted her to her feet and stooped to pick up her hat. “Do you really mind going with me, Victor?” Elinor asked. “Do I mind? I've been waiting two years for you to ask me to go.” His voice was very deep and there was a soft light in his brown eyes. Elinor's pulse beat felt a thrill. A sudden sense of the sweetness of the day and of a joy unlike any other joy of her life possessed her. Down on the bridge they stopped to watch the sunlit waters of the Walnut rippling below them. “Are we the same two who crept up on this bridge, wet, and muddy and tired, and scared one stormy October night eighteen months ago?” Elinor asked. “I've had no reincarnation that I know of,” Vic replied. “I have,” Elinor declared, and Vic thought of Burgess. Up the narrow hidden glen they made their way, clambering about broken ledges, crossing and recrossing the little stream, hugging the dry footing under overhanging rock shelves, laughing at missteps and rejoicing in the springtime joy, until they came suddenly upon a grassy open space, cliff-walled and hidden, even from the rest of the glen. At the farther end was the low doorway-like entrance to the cave. The song-birds were twittering in the trees above them, the waters of the little stream gurgled at their feet, the woodsy odor of growing things was in the air, and all the little glen was restful and quiet.