“Why should he be lost?”
“Because I lost him. Back there on the trail. Purposely. I sent him for water and then—I skipped.”
“Oh-h-h! Then he’s the goose.”
“Goose! Preston Fairfax Fitz—”
“Yes, the goose you said ‘Boo!’ to, you know.”
“Of course. You didn’t steal his hat, did you?”
“No. It’s my own hat. Why did you run away from him?”
“He bored me. When people bore me, I always run away. I’m beginning to feel quite fugitive this very minute.”
There was silence below, a silence that piqued the girl.
“Well,” she challenged, “haven’t you anything to say before the court passes sentence of abandonment to your fate?”