l, and for the remainder of the day her mind
was, you may say, in her feet.

At four we stopped again and made more tea. The road had begun to rise
toward the hills and the farmhouses were fewer. Ahead of us loomed
Thunder Cloud Mountain, with the Camel's Back to the right of it. The
road led up the valley between.

It was hardly a road at all, being a grass-grown wagontrack with not a
house in a mile. Aggie was glad of the grass, for she had taken off her
shoes by that time and was carrying them slung over her shoulder on the
end of her parasol. We were on the lower slope of the mountain when we
heard the green automobile.

It was coming rapidly from behind us. Aggie had just time to sit on a
bank--and her feet--before it came in sight. It was a long, low,
bright-green car and there were four men in it. They were bent forward,
looking ahead, except one man who sat so he could see behind him.

They came on us rather suddenly, and the man who was looking back yelled
to us as they passed, but what with noise and dust I couldn't make out
what he said. The next moment the machine flew ahead and out of sight
among the trees.

"What did he say?" I asked. Aggie, who has a tendency to hay-fever, was
sneezing in the dust.

"I don't know," returned Tish absently, staring after them. "Probably
asked us if we wanted a ride. Lizzie, those men had guns!"

"Fiddlesticks!" I said.

"Guns!" repeated Tish firmly.

"Well, what of it? Our donkey has a gun."

And as at that instant the sleeping-bags and provisions slid gently
round under Modestine's stomach, the green automobile and its occupants
passed out of our minds for a while.

By the time we had got the things on Modestine's back again we were
convinced he had been a mistake. He objected to standing still to be
reloaded, and even with Tish at his head and Aggie at his tail he kept
turning in a circle, and in fact finally kicked out at Aggie and
stretched her in the road. Then, too, his back was not flat like a
horse's. It went up to a sort of peak, and was about as handy to pack
things on as the ridge-pole of a roof.

For an hour or so more we plodded on. Tish, who is an enthusiast about
anything she does, kept pointing out wild flowers to us and talking
about the unfortunates back in town under roofs. But I kept thinking of
a broiled lamb chop with new potatoes, and my whole being revolted at
the thought of supper out of a can.

At twilight we found a sort of recess