They both stared about them, but could discern nothing familiar in the dim outlines of the hills. Not a light flickered. "Perhaps if you'd give the horse his head, he'd take us home. I've heard, they would," suggested Nan. "He's had his head completely for the last two hours. That theory is exploded. We must have turned wrong after leaving Jake's Place." "Well, we're on a road. It must go somewhere." Keith, with some difficulty, managed to awaken the horse. It sighed and resumed its plodding. "I'm afraid we're lost," confessed Keith. "I don't much care," confessed Nan. "He seems to be a perfectly safe horse," said he. By way of answer to this she passed her arms gently about his neck and bent his lips to hers. The horse immediately stopped. "Seems a fairly intelligent brute, too," observed Keith, after a few moments. "Did you ever see so many stars?" said she. The buggy moved slowly, on through the night. They did not talk. Explanations and narrative could wait until the morrow--a distant morrow only dimly foreseen, across this vast ocean of night. All sense of tune or direction left them; they were wandering irresponsibly, without thought of why, as children wander and get lost. After a long time they saw a silver gleam far ahead and below them. "That must be the bay," said Keith. "If we turn to the right we ought to get back to town." "I suppose so," said Nan. A very long time later the horse stopped short with an air of finality, and refused absolutely to proceed. Keith descended to see what was the matter. "The road seems to end here," he told her. "There's a steep descent just ahead." "What now?" "Nothing," he replied, climbing back into the buggy. The horse slumbered profoundly. They wrapped the lap robe around themselves. For a tune they whispered little half-forgotten things to each other. The pauses grew longer and longer. With an effort she roused herself to press her lips again to his. They, too, slept. And as dawn slowly lighted the world, they must have presented a strange and bizarre silhouette atop the hill against the paling sky--the old sagging buggy, the horse with head down and ears adroop, the lovers clasped in each other's arms.