"Charming. We can have the satisfaction of trampling on some of Mr. Austin's early wheat crop. Right about, face! But, incidentally, what are we to do after we get to Mr. Higgins's?" They were now scurrying back over the ground they had just traversed.
"Oh, dear me, why should we think about troubles until we come to them?"
"I wasn't thinking about troubles. I'm thinking about something to eat."
"You are intensely unromantic. But Mrs. Higgins is awfully good. She will give us eggs and cakes and milk and coffee and—everything. Won't it be jolly?"
Five minutes later they were plunging through a field of partly grown wheat, in what she averred to be the direction of the Higgins home. It was not good walking, but they were young and strong and very much interested in one another and the adventure.
"Hello, what's this? A river?" he cried, as the swish of running waters came to his ears.
"Oh; isn't it dreadful? I forgot this creek was here, and there is no bridge nearer than a mile. What shall we do? See there is a light in Higgins's house over there. Isn't it disgusting? I could sit down and cry," she wailed. In the distance a dog was heard barking fiercely, but they did not recognize the voice of Swallow. A new trouble confronted them.
[Illustration: "HE WAS SPLASHING THROUGH THE SHALLOW BROOK">[
"Don't do that," he said resignedly. "Remember how Eliza crossed the ice with the bloodhounds in full trail. Do you know how deep and wide the creek is?"
"It's a tiny bit of a thing, but it's wet," she said ruefully.