ear at the giant and the green ear at the dwarf, which
fusses them both so that they promise to be good and rush off to get her
a saucer of milk."

"A green ear and a yellow ear! What a funny looking cat she must be!"
exclaimed Belvy.

"So she says to herself between purrs," concluded Jack. "But she is a
philosopher and knows that she would look still funnier if she had lost
her ears as Jag Ear has. Good-by, children! Good-by, everybody! Good-by,
Little Rivers!"

Jack gave P.D. a signal and the crowd broke into a cheer, which was
punctuated by the music of Jag Ear's bells as his burrohood got in
motion. The Doge, who had brought his horse, mounted.

"I will ride a little distance with you," he said.

He appeared like a man who had a great deal on his mind and yet was at a
loss for words. There was the unprecedented situation of silence between
the two exponents of persiflage in Little Rivers.

"I--" he began, and paused as if the subject were too big for him and it
were better not to begin at all. Then he drew rein.

"Luck, Jack!" he said, simply, and there was something like pity
in his tone.

"And Mary--you will say good-by to her and thank her!" said Jack.

"I think you may meet her," answered the Doge. "She went away early
taking her luncheon, before she knew that you were going."

So Ignacio had been acting on his own authority! The thrill of the news
singing in Jack's veins was too overwhelming for him to notice the
challenge and apprehension in the Doge's glance. The Doge saw the glow of
a thousand happy, eager thoughts in Jack's face. He hesitated again on
the brink of speech, before, with a toss of his leonine head as if he
were veritably leaving fate's affairs to fate, he turned to go; and Jack
mechanically touched P.D.'s rein, while he gazed toward the pass. P.D.
had not gone many steps when Jack heard the same sonorous call that had
greeted him that first night when he stopped before the door of the
Ewolds; the call of a great, infectious fellowship between men:

"Luck, Sir Chaps! I defy you to wear your spurs up the Avenue! Give my
love to that new Campanile in Babylon, the Metropolitan tower! Get it in
the mist! Get it under the sun! Kiss your hand to golden Diana, huntress
of Manhattan's winds! Say ahoy to old Farragut! And on gray days have a
look for me at the new Sorollas in the Museum! Luck, Sir Chaps!"

"Good crops and a generous mail, O Doge!"

Jack rode fast, in the gladness of a ho