"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.

And instantly the hand of the man in the wagon reached forward, but he
was not within reaching distance, and at the same instant Ambrose,
seizing hold of his passenger, made a flying leap from the gig. Then
catching the girl's hand in his he ran with her, ran gloriously, hardly
conscious of the light figure being drawn along. All day his long legs
had been cramped with sitting still; this, then, was the thing that he
had most desired: leaping ditches, tearing across ploughed fields to the
woods ahead, with the frightened girl panting but keeping close to his
side, and behind them the enraged, shouting figure of officialdom.

Once in the woods the hiding was easy; twisting in and out among the
trees not only did Ambrose lose his pursuer, but himself. For