“Reminds me of Ponce de Leon’s hunt for a spring,” laughed Roy, who felt in high spirits over the fine way the Golden Butterfly had conducted herself.
“But he was looking for the Fountain of Eternal Youth,” said Peggy, quickly.
“Wonder if he’d have been any happier if he’d found it,” murmured Roy, philosophically.
“If he’d been a woman he would,” said Peggy.
“Would what? Have found it?”
“No, you goose, but have been perfectly happy if he had attained perpetual youth. Why, I think––Why, whatever was that?”
The girl broke off short in her laughing remarks and an expression of startled astonishment crept over her features.
“Why, it’s some one groaning,” cried Roy, after a brief period of listening.
“Yes. Some one in pain, too. It’s off this way. Come on, Roy, let us find out what is the matter.”
Without a thought of personal danger, but with all her warm girlish sympathy aroused, plucky Peggy plunged off on to a path, from a spot along which it appeared the injured person must be groaning. But Roy caught her arm and pulled her back while he stepped in front of her.