pursuit was gone. His legs that had been in such a fearful hurry, came
to a sudden standstill; and he discovered, to his immense surprise, that
he was back again----

There lay the rug and the cushions under the downward sweeping branches
with their cascades of bright new leaves. No sign of Tara--and the heavy
drops came faster, though they hardly amounted to a shower.

Flinging down bow and arrows, he ran under the tree and peered up into a
maze of silver grey and young green. Still no sign.

"Tara!" he called. "Are you there?"

"'Course I am." Her disembodied voice had a ring of triumph. "I'm at the
tipmost top. It's rather shaky, but scrumshous. Come up--quick!"

Craning his neck he could just see one leg and the edge of her frock.
Temptation tugged at him; but he could not bear to disobey his
mother--not because it was naughty, but it was her.

"I can't--now," he called back. "It's late and it's raining. You _must_
come down."

"I will--if you come up."

"I tell you, I can't!"

"Only one little minute, Roy. The storm's rolling away. I can see miles
and miles--to Farthest End."