"I can make it, I guess," said the invited guest--the consummate and unblushing hypocrite. Make it he did, with her strong hand to aid; and the glen rang to the laughter of them. While behind them, all unnoted, Johnny Dines reined up on the hillside; took one sweeping glance at that joyous progress, the scarred hillside, the saddle and the dejected eohippus in the background; grinned comprehension, and discreetly withdrew. CHAPTER III MAXWELTON BRAES "Oh the song--the song in the blood! Magic walks the forest; there's bewitchment on the air-- Spring is at the flood!" --_The Gypsy Heart._ "Well, sir, this here feller, he lit a cigarette an' throwed away the match, an' it fell in a powder kaig; an' do you know, more'n half that powder burned up before they could put it out! Yes, sir!"--WILDCAT THOMPSON. Ellinor opened her basket and spread its tempting wares with pretty hostly care--or is there such a word as hostessly? "There! All ready, Mr.----I declare, this is too absurd! We don't even know each other's names!" Her conscious eye fell upon the ampleness of the feast--amazing, since it purported to have been put up for one alone; and her face lit up with mischievous delight. She curtsied. "If you please, I'm the Ultimate Consumer!" He rose, bowing gravely. "I am the Personal Devil. Glad to meet you." "Oh! I've heard of you!" remarked the Ultimate Consumer sweetly. She sat down and extended her hand across the spotless linen. "Mr. Lake says----" The Personal Devil flushed. It was not because of the proffered hand, which he took unhesitatingly and held rather firmly. The blush was unmistakably caused by anger. "There is no connection whatever," he stated, grimly enough, "between the truth and Mr. Lake's organs of speech." "Oh!" cried the Ultimate Consumer triumphantly. "So you're Mr. Beebe?" "Bransford--Jeff Bransford," corrected the Personal Devil crustily. He wilfully relapsed to his former slipshod speech. "Beebe, he's gone to the Pecos work, him and Ballinger. Mr. John Wesley Also-Ran Pringle's gone to Old Mexico to bring back another bunch of black, long-horned Chihuahuas. You now behold before you the last remaining Rose of Rosebud. But, why Beebe?" "Why does Mr. Lake hate all of you so, Mr. Bransford?" "Because we are infamous scoundrels. Why Beebe?" "I can't eat with one hand, Mr. Bransford," she said demurely. He looked at the prisoned hand with a start and released it grudgingly. "Help yourself," said his hostess cheerfully. "There's sandwiches, and roast beef and olives, for a mild beginning." "Why Beebe?" he said doggedly. "Help yourself to the salad and then please pass it over this way. Thank you." "Why Beebe?" "Oh, very well then! Because of the little eohippus, you know--and other things you said." "I see!" said the aggrieved Bransford. "Because I'm not from Ohio, like Beebe, I'm not supposed----"