“A honey-comb and a honey-flower
And the bee shall have his hour.
“A honeyed heart for the honey-comb.
And the humming bee flies home.
“A heavy heart in the honey-flower.
And the bee has had his hour.”
Suddenly the low song died on her lips, changing to a cry of alarm.
At a curve in the road she came suddenly upon a startling sight.
Rex just swerved aside from a runaway horse that was dragging behind it a shattered little runabout, in which stood upright a white-faced man, straining desperately upon the reins, trying to stop the maddened animal’s wild career.
Even in that terrible moment, with the black horse plunging madly forward to the imminent peril of the driver’s life, Leola saw, as by a flash, that the man was young and very, very handsome, and her heart throbbed with wild pain at his danger, for on one side the road sloped, precipitously, downward to a dangerous stream of water, and a plunge over that steep incline meant death in horrible form.