hooked to his hat-band, as he bent over the
illumined reptile.

But they did not challenge it as did the
flash of an apricot sweater, blood-red in
the ruby lamplight, of a black and yellow
cap, several yellow and black caps, suddenly
-eagerly--thrust near.

"He's big--big for a garter, isn't he,
Buddy?" remarked a voice that did not
come from the ranks of Togetherers, of
Boy Scouts and Camp Fire Girls, excitedly
scrutinizing Stud's novel armlet.

Neither--neither was it the voice of the
nickum, so much Pemrose knew, as she
edged coldly a little away,--a little nearer
to the dim and sighing lake-edge.

Yet he was among them, those gaudy
big boys, whose flare of color merely striped
the cave-dusk, like the dingy markings
upon the snake's squirming back.

He actually had his armful of mayflowers,
too, the nickum, not the snake; passe
mayflowers, with the tan of decay on them,
was nursing them carefully, as if they were
[[163]]

p162 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p163w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p164

v?