"How long had you been with him?"
"Only about a week. He proposed to me to take a walk this morning, and brought me here."
"Your clothes look the worse for the fall," said Fred.
"Yes, I look like a tramp," answered Robert, glancing down at his wet and muddy clothes with disgust. "I've got another suit at the hotel, unless Mr. Fitzgerald has carried off my valise. I don't much like going back there in this trim."
"You needn't," said Fred. "Come home with me. You are about my size; I will lend you one of my suits, while yours is being cleansed and dried."
"Thank you!" said Robert, relieved; "you are very kind. And what will your mother say when she sees you bringing such a looking tramp home with you?"
"Don't trouble yourself about that," said Fred. "Mother will understand it. She'll see that even if you do look like a tramp you're not a professional."
"That's just what I am," responded Robert, smiling. "I am a professional—circus rider."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Fred, with something of interest. "Are you a bareback rider?"
"Yes."