fs
anyway. It's utterly useless to talk to him. He thrives on
opposition."

Looking furtively back, she watched Mr. Poynter break camp. It was
very simple. Ras, yawning prodigiously, heaved a variety of
unnecessary provisions overboard from the seat pantry, abandoned the
ice-cream freezer to a desolate fate by the ashes of the camp fire and
peeled the hay-bed. Philip slipped a small tin plate, a collapsible
tin cup, a wooden knife, fork and spoon into his pocket. Ras put his
in his hat, which immediately took on a somewhat bloated appearance.
Having climbed languidly to the reins, the ridiculous negro appeared to
fall asleep immediately. Mr. Poynter, looking decidedly trim and
smiling, summoned Dick Whittington, climbed aboard and, whistling,
disappeared from view with uncommon grace and good humor. The
hay-wagon rumbled off.

Diane bit her lips convulsively and looked at Johnny. Simultaneously
they broke into an immoderate fit of laughter.

"Very well," decided the girl indignantly a little later, "if I can't
do anything else, I can lose him!"

But even this was easier of utterance than accomplishment. Diane was
soon to learn that if the distance between them grew too great, Mr.
Poynter promptly unloaded all but a scant layer of hay, took the reins
himself, and thundered with expedition up the trail in quest of her,
with Dick Whittington barking furiously. It was much too spectacular a
performance for a daily diet.

Diane presently ordered her going and coming as if the persistent
hay-gypsy on the road behind her did not exist, but every night she
caught the cheerful glimmer of his camp fire through the trees, and
frowned.

CHAPTER XIX

A NOMADIC MINSTREL

Striking west into New York State, Diane had come into Orange County,
whence she wound slowly down into northern Jersey, through the Poconos.
For days now the dusty wanderers had followed the silver flash of the
Delaware, coming at length from a rugged, cooler country of mountain
and lake into a sunny valley cleft by the singing river. It was a
goodly land of peaceful villages tucked away mid age-old trees, of
garrulous, kindly folks and covered bridges, of long, lazy canals with
grassy banks banding each shore of the rippling river, of tow-paths
padded by the feet of bargemen and bell-hung mules and lock-tenders.

At sunset one night Diane paid her toll at a Lilliputian house built
like an architectural barnacle on to the end of a cove