"He wouldn't go; he's an animal of intelligence, and of course has observed that he could lead a nomadic life here perfectly, with constant summer, and water, and--but I can't say much for the grass. I think, however, that I can arrange it so that he shall not trouble you." And dismounting, he changed and lengthened some straps; then seating himself in the phaeton beside her, he took the reins, his own horse trotting along docielly at his side of the phaeton, fastened by a long line. "It's caravanish," said Garda. "But I'll allow it because I want you to drive; it's more amusing than driving myself." "More lazy, you mean." "Yes; I ran away to be lazy." "For a variety?" She did not take this up, but, leaning back still further, half closed her eyes. "Have you often been out in this way on the barrens, driving yourself?" he went on. "This is the first time I have ever driven--on the barrens or anywhere else." "Yet you come out alone, and with this restless horse! I never knew you to do such a thing before." "That only shows how short a time you have known me; I always like to do things I have never done before." The phaeton rolled on towards the west--on and on, as she would not let him turn. But he did not wish to turn now; they had reached a part of the barren which he had not visited, though he had ridden to much greater distances both towards the north and the south. Here were wider pools; and here also was a sluggish narrow stream; far off on the left rose the long dark line of the great cypresses on the edge of a swamp. The sluggish stream at length crossed their road, or rather their road essayed to cross the sluggish stream; but the dark water looked deep, there were no tracks of wheels on the little descent to show that any one had tried the ford lately--say within the last twenty years. Winthrop hesitated. "Go on," said Garda. "But I might have to swim with you to the other shore." "Nothing I should like better." "To see me soaked?" "To see you excited." "That wouldn't excite me; I should only be wet and depressed. In any case it is time for us to turn back." "No, I've set my heart upon going at least as far as that ridge." And she indicated a little rise of land on the other side of the stream, whose summit was covered thickly with Dr. Kirby's andromedas, and shining laurel, sprays of yellow jessamine, bright with flowers, pushing through the darker green and springing into the air. "There's a bridge," she added. Winthrop turned; a felled pine-tree, roughly smoothed, crossed the stream a short distance below the ford. "You can tie the horses here, and we will walk over," pursued Garda. "Then will you come back?" he asked, amused by her taking it as a matter of course, always, that she was to have her own way. "Then I will come back."