ing, then she turned away and started down the slope, along a trail through the tall slippery grass and scratchy, shoulder-high lantana with its flaunting orange, pink and vermilion blossoms. The Dream walked beside her. After a while he spoke. "Would you mind telling me why you did that?" he asked.
Marjorie choked back the sobs. "I—I don't exactly know," she said; "—only—only an awful panic got hold of me, and I just fled—I didn't know nor care where—so long as I got out of that dreadful, dreadful gorge with the black, creaking trees, and the snaky vines, and the dreadful rush of the water 'way down below,—oh, I was so frightened!"
"And what made you keep on running after you got out of the gorge, instead of waiting for the boy?"
"Oh, I don't know!" cried Marjorie. "I don't know a thing excepting that I was so terribly afraid—"
"Afraid that the gorge and the water and the vines would chase you the whole
