"Humph! they'd have to 'go some' t
leaven the blues of Tory Cave," remarked
the Scoutmaster, laughingly addressing
himself to a roll. "The biggest bonfire on
earth wouldn't half dry the cave-tears
there."

"Yes, that's the den of the Doleful
Dumps--their diggings!" laughed a
younger scout, flourishing aloft a messmug,
the gray of his rolling eyes. " Bats--bats
as big as saucers--no, soup-plates!
And, far in--far in--the sound of running
water, like a weak wind!"

"Running water! Invisible running
water! A--? weak--wind! Oh-h! do let
us hurry and go on there. We have to
cross the river; haven't we?" The gurgle
of that cloistered brooklet was already in
Pem's heart as her dilating gaze spanned
the Housatonic, broad and open, ""ar-bling"amid
its soft meadow slopes, as she
had looked upon it from the Devil's Chair.
"But, goody! I hope we wont run across
him there--Jack at a Pinch! Flaunting
[[158]]

p157 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p158w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p159

v?