At the thought, he pursed his lips and sent the rounded notes of the quail through the evening haze.
He had not time to repeat them before a slender figure, appearing as if by magic, extended him a warm little hand.
“Bob White!” she said gaily. “I’m very glad to see you. I was in the hammock under the hickory there. That gives me a new name for you—I was tired of Puddin’ Tame.” Her lips echoed the whistle.
“I’m glad you’ve come, Mr. Bob White.”
“Did you dream for a moment I wouldn’t?”
“I was a little afraid you might forget your promise. No, what I was really afraid of was that you wouldn’t find a chance to steal away. You did steal away, didn’t you, ve-ry quietly?”
“I did. I sailed away, at any rate, and I didn’t tell a soul where I was bound.”
“I knew you were a reliable man.”
“How is the sprained ankle? You don’t seem to be noticeably crippled.”