game of tag, sat as lightly as so many big bright birds on their
precarious perches and frankly, curiously, stared at us.

"Girls!" whispered Jeff, under his breath, as if they might fly
if he spoke aloud.

"Peaches!" added Terry, scarcely louder. "Peacherinos--
apricot-nectarines! Whew!"

They were girls, of course, no boys could ever have shown
that sparkling beauty, and yet none of us was certain at first.

We saw short hair, hatless, loose, and shining; a suit of some
light firm stuff, the closest of tunics and kneebreeches, met by
trim gaiters. As bright and smooth as parrots and as unaware of
danger, they swung there before us, wholly at ease, staring as we
stared, till first one, and then all of them burst into peals of
delighted laughter.

Then there was a torrent of soft talk tossed back and forth;
no savage sing-song, but clear musical fluent speech.

We met their laughter cordially, and doffed our hats to them,
at which they laughed again, delightedly.

Then Terry, wholly in his element, made a polite speech, with
explanatory gestures, and proceeded to introduce us, with pointing
finger. "Mr. Jeff Margrave," he said clearly; Jeff bowed as
gracefully as a man could in the fork of a great limb. "Mr.
Vandyck Jennings"--I also tried to make an effective salute and