e of the listener made clear the
need for guardian angels. One leap, one blow, and Victor Burleigh would
carry only one more scar to his grave.

Suddenly a faint piping voice floated in upon the glen:

Little childwen pwessing near
To the feet of Thwist, the Ting,
Have you neiver doubt nor fear
Or some twibute do you bwing?

And Bug Buler, flushed and splashed, and generally muddy and happy, came
around the fallen ledges and debauched into the grassy sunshiny space
before the cavern. Only a tiny, tumbled-up, joyous child, with no power
in his pudgy little arm; and Victor Burleigh, tall, muscular and agile.
Against this man of tremendous strength the caveman's club was lifted.
But with the sound of the child's voice and the sight of the innocent
face the club fell harmless. A look of fright, deepening to a maniac's
terror, seized the creature, and noiselessly and swiftly as a serpent
would escape he crawled back into the darkness and burrowed deep from
the eyes of men. So strength that day was ruled by weakness.

"I ist followed you, Vic," Bug said, clutching Vic's hand.

"This is n't a safe place to come, Bug. You must n't follow me here."

"Nen you must n't go into is n't safe places, so I won't follow. Little
folks don't know," Bug said, with cunning gravity.

"He is right," Elinor said. "I think we'd better leave now."

They knew that henceforth this spot would be holy ground for them, but
they did not dare to think further than that. They only wished that the
moments would stay, that the sun would loiter slowly down the afternoon
sky.

"I know a way out," Bug declared. Turn, "I'll show you."

Then, with a child's sense of direction, he led away from the cave out
to where the deep ravine headed in a rough mass of broken rock.

"Tlimb up that and you're out," Bug declared.

They climbed up to the high level prairie that sweeps westward from the
Walnut bluffs.

"Doodby, folks. I want to Botany wiv urn over there. I turn wiv Limpy
out here."

Bug pointed to a group of students wandering about in search of dogtooth
violets and other botanical plunder from Nature's springtime treasury.
Among the group was Bug's chum, the crippled student.

"Well, stay with them this time, you little wandering Jew," Vic
admonished, nor dreamed how his guardian angel had come to him this day
in the guise of this same little wanderer.

When Victor and Elinor had come at last to the west bluff above the
Waln