The girl's clasp tightened, and Ambrose could catch, not the words, but the sound of a prayer. Harder than ever before in all their ten years of friendly intimacy the boy now spurred on old Liza. It might have been just as well had he known why he was being thus chivalrous, but there had been no opportunity so far for finding out, and everything in Ambrose played gallantly with this new adventure. He was still a boy with a boy's love of mischief, of hiding, of winning in any kind of game, and susceptibility to instant sympathy. Old Liza was a retired racehorse, and although her retirement dated some years back, still she was subject to spurts of speed. However, the best of spurts won't hold out long, and soon her driver realized that the wagon behind was gaining on him every moment. "Keep still!" he ordered, deliberately pulling up short in the middle of the road. With a quick movement, seeing that the truant was completely hidden, he set his carpet-bag up on his lap, and, opening it, began rummaging among its contents. When the other wagon was within hailing distance he turned slowly about. "Thank the Lord for trifles, stranger," he called. "I wonder now if you would mind pausin' and givin' me a light; I got my pipe and tobacco"--he held out an old-time corncob pipe--"but maybe you be hurryin' on to a sick person." Naturally the other man hesitated. Ambrose's solemn long face was fairly plain to view, also his manner of having all eternity before him. Eying him suspiciously, the newcomer thrust forth his own lighted pipe, Ambrose managing to keep his carpet-bag between them. "You ain't seen anything of a runaway girl?" the man asked. Ambrose nodded with irritating precision, the time being consumed in scrutiny of his questioner's face. The man had lantern jaws, small, hard eyes, and an expression of official authority peculiarly annoying to certain members of the laity. "There was a girl a piece back hidin' behind a woodpile; thought maybe she was playin' hide and seek." Here the speaker laughed. "Reckon you suspicioned she was a pretty fair runner if you're chasin' a girl along the high-road with that horse. Most any human would have had the sense to hide." Here the reins flapped on old Liza's back and she took a few steps forward. Evidently Ambrose's words had not been without effect, for the stranger did not hurry on at once, neither did he reveal any misgiving in connection with the young man nor the amount of property being transported at the front of his gig, for the country people of that day were accustomed to doing their own carrying. Safety with honours! A smile began playing about Ambrose's face, when suddenly a kind of miniature convulsion shook his leg, followed by a choking, spluttering noise that was plainly a terrified sneeze.