ince I've known our gypsy lady, I've done
nothing but fuss."

But, nevertheless, when Diane's camp finally settled into quiet for the
night, there was a watchful sentry in the forest who did not retire to
his bed of hay until Johnny was astir at daybreak. And Philip was to
find his bearings in a staggering flash of memory and know no peace for
many a day to come.

CHAPTER XX

THE ROMANCE OF MINSTRELSY

"I am glad to see that you are better," said Diane pleasantly.

The minstrel, who had bathed his hands and face in the river until they
were darkly ruddy, bowed with singular grace and ease. That he was
grave and courtly of manner and strikingly handsome to boot, Diane had
already noticed with a flash of wonder.

"I owe you much," said he simply. "My life perhaps--"

"I am sure," protested Diane, "that you greatly overrate my small
service."

"Day by day," exclaimed the minstrel sombrely, "I travel the summer
roads in quest of health."

Not a little interested, Diane raised frankly sympathetic eyes to his
in diffident question.

"The music?" said the minstrel with his slow, grave smile. "Is there
not more romance and adventure in the life of a wandering minstrel than
in that of an idle seeker after health? In the open one finds
happiness, health, color and life!"

Diane felt a sudden tie of sympathy link her subtly to this mysterious
nomad of the summer road. Simply and naturally she spoke of her own
love of the wild things that filled the sylvan world with life and
color.

"You look much then at the wild flowers!" he exclaimed delightedly.
"There was a leaf back there on a mountain, the edge of white, a white
blossom in the heart like a patch of snow--"

"Snow-on-the-mountain!" exclaimed Diane. "I've looked for it for days."

"It shall be my ambition to bring you some," said the minstrel
gallantly. "I shall not forget."

Diane glanced furtively at the picturesque attire which her nomadic
guest wore with a certain dashing grace, and marveled afresh. It was
of ragged corduroy with a brightly colored handkerchief about the
throat which foiled his vivid skin artistically. Indeed there was more
of sophistication in the careful blending of colors than even the
normal seeker after health might deem expedient for his purpose.

"It is to few--to none indeed save you that I have confided the secret
of my minstrelsy," he said deferentially a little later. "Illness,
love of adventure, a longing