d."

CHAPTER IV

THE ROAD TO ROME

"Behold, one journeyed in the night.
He sang amid the wind and rain;
My wet sands gave his feet delight--
When will that traveler come again?"

--_The Heart of the Road_,
ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH.

A hypotenuse, as has been well said, is the longest side of a
right-angled triangle. There is no need for details. That we are all
familiar with the use of this handy little article is shown by the
existence of shortcuts at every available opportunity, and by
keep-off-o'-the-grass signs in parks.

Now, had Jeff Bransford desired to go to Arcadia--to that masquerade,
for instance--his direct route from Jackson's Ranch would have been
cater-cornered across the desert, as has been amply demonstrated by
Pythagoras and others.

That Jeff did not want to go to Arcadia--to the masked ball, for
instance--is made apparent by the fact that the afternoon preceding said
ball saw him jogging southward toward Baird's, along the lonely base of
that inveterate triangle whereof Jackson's, Baird's and Arcadia are the
respective corners, leaving the fifty-five-mile hypotenuse far to his
left. It was also obvious from the tenor of his occasional
self-communings.

"I don't want to make a bally fool of myself--do I, old Grasshopper?
Anyhow, you'll be too tired when we get to 'Gene's."

Grasshopper made no response, other than a plucky tossing of his bit and
a quickening cadence in his rhythmical stride, by way of pardonable
bravado.

"I never forced myself in where my company wasn't wanted yet, and I
ain't going to begin now," asserted Jeff stoutly; adding, as a fervent
afterthought: "Damn Lake!"

His way lay along the plain, paralleling the long westward range, just
far enough out to dodge the jutting foothills; through bare white levels
where Grasshopper's hoofs left but a faint trace on the hard-glazed
earth. At intervals, tempting cross-roads branched away to mountain
springs. The cottonwood at Independent Springs came into view round the
granite shoulder of Strawberry, six miles to the right of him. He roused
himself from prolonged pondering of the marvelous silhouette, where San
Andres unflung in broken masses against the sky, to remark in a hushed
whisper:

"I wonder if she'd be glad to see me?"

Several miles later he quoted musingly:

"For Ellinor--her Christian name was Ellinor--
Had twenty-se