“Wait for them!” repeats Charley. “They must be at least two miles behind. You’ve no idea at what a rate we have come. Instead of waiting, let us see how soon we can get down to the Paint Rock. I’ll wager any thing we reach there an hour and a half ahead of them.” This cool proposal surprises the young lady—and amuses her. There is a large spice of mischief in her composition, and the idea of Miss Hollis and Mr. Lanier left in the lurch, and consigned to each other’s tender mercies, appeals irresistibly to her sense of the ludicrous. She looks at Charley, and bursts into a gay laugh. “Did you mean this deliberately?” she asks. “There never was any thing more shameful. Poor Miss Hollis!—Poor Mr. Lanier! How inconsolable they must be!” “Don’t flatter yourself with any such idea,” says Charley, coolly. “Miss Hollis is at this moment making eyes at Lanier, and he is bearing his fate with the philosophy which distinguishes him. We are the scapegraces; so, like scapegraces, let us be jolly together.” “_You_ are the scapegrace, sir. Do you suppose I had a thought of riding to Paint Rock with you when you proposed a short run to keep the horses from pulling our arms off?” “Not the least in the world; but _I_ had a thought of the kind. I knew that, if we were once fairly started on a gallop, you would not have resolution enough to stop until you were obliged to do so.” “How well you know the weak points of my character! After all, it is pleasant to be separated from the rest of the party, and able to do exactly what one likes. You don’t deserve to have me say such a thing, however.” “Why don’t I deserve it?” asks Charley, looking very virtuous. “Haven’t I schemed and plotted and made two mortal enemies in order to enjoy this ride with you?” She lifts her eyebrows. “You schemed and plotted to escape the necessity of holding in Cecil by the side of that animal Miss Hollis is on,” she says. “Of course that was it,” answers Charley, meekly. “How very astute you are!” “I am astute enough to understand you, at least,” says Sylvia. “Why, you are as transparent as—as that spring yonder.” “Which, by-the-way, is worth stopping to look at,” says Charley, checking his horse. “Did you ever see as large a spring before? It must be ten feet across, and is only one of a succession. Look! There are half a dozen of them, and the stream which rises here and empties into the river after a short course across the field is almost a creek. Do you know the reason? We entered the limestone region about a mile back, and these are limestone springs.” “Are limestone springs always mammoth? I wonder why? But I don’t admire the limestone cliffs half so much as those of granite.”