“Not bad,” agreed Richard with a leap of spirits, “if it pleases you, sir.  I’m ready to work till the usual time if you prefer.”

“Well spoken.  But I don’t prefer.  I shall enjoy a stroll down the avenue myself in this sunshine.  What sunshine—­for November!”

It was barely three when the Judge released his assistant, two hours after the riding party had left.  As he opened the front door and ran to his waiting car, Richard was wondering how many miles away they were and in what direction they had gone.  He wanted nothing so much as to meet them somewhere on the road—­better yet, to overtake and come upon them unawares.

A powerful car driven by a determined and quick-witted young man may scour considerable country while three horses, trotting in company, are covering but a few short miles.  Richard was sure of one thing:  whichever road appealed to the young Grays as most picturesque and secluded on this wonderful Indian-summer afternoon would be their choice.  Not the main highways of travel, but some enticing by-way.  Where would that be?  He decided on a certain course, with a curious feeling that he could follow wherever Roberta led, by the invisible trail of her radiant personality.  He would see!  Mile after mile—­he took them swiftly, speeding out past the West Wood marshes with assurance of the fact that this was certainly one of the favourite ways.

Twelve miles out he came to a fork in the road.  Which trail?  One led up a steep hill, the other down into the river valley, soft-veiled in the late sunshine.  Which trail?  He could seem to see Roberta choosing the hill and putting her horse up it, while Ruth called out that the valley road was better.  With a sense of exhilaration he sent the car up the hill, remembering that from the top was a broad view sure to be worth while on a day like this.  Besides, up here he might be able to see far ahead and discern the party somewhere in the distance.

Just over the brow he came upon them where they had camped by the roadside.  It was a road quite off the line of travel and they were a hundred feet back among a clump of pine trees, their horses tied to the fence-rail.  A bonfire sent up a pungent smoke half veiling the figures.  But the car had come roaring up the hill, and they were all looking his way.  Two of the horses had plunged a little at the sudden noise, and Ted ran forward.  Richard stopped his engine, triumphant, his pulses quickening with a bound.

“Oh, hullo!” cried Ted in joyful excitement.  “Where’d you come from, Mr. Kendrick?  Isn’t this luck!”

“This is certainly luck,” responded Richard, doffing his hat as the figures by the fire moved his way, the one in brown coming quickly, the one in green rather more slowly.  “Your uncle released me at three and I rushed for the open.  What a day!”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Ruth came up to the brown mare, which was eying the big car with some resentment.  She patted the velvet nose as she spoke.  “Don’t you mind, Bess,” she reproached the mare.  “It’s nothing but a puffing, noisy car.  It’s not half so nice as you.”