Aromatic-scented branches brushed our faces, and we had to part them
before we could pass on. Then they flew back into their accustomed
places, resenting our intrusion by shaking over us a shower of
fragrant dew. The path, which was always narrow, had fallen away a
little here and there, for it is no one's business to repair it now,
since the making of the railway has turned pilgrims into tourists.
There was just room for man or beast to walk without danger, but so
sheer were the descents below us, so great the drop, that a woman
might have been pardoned a few tremors. "It's a good thing you're not
a girl," said I to the Little Pal, across my shoulder, holding back a
particularly obstinate branch which would have liked to push us over
the precipice, with its lean black arm. "You would be screaming, and I
shouldn't know what to do for you."
"Not if I were an American girl," he replied, bristling with
patriotism.
"Is your sister plucky?"
"As plucky as I am; but perhaps that's not saying much. So you're glad
I'm not a girl?"
"I wouldn't metamorphose you, and lose my comrade. Still, if your
sister were like you, and not an heiress, I should----"
"You would--what?"
"Like to meet her. But she would probably detest me, and wonder how
her brother could have endured my society for weeks on end."
I was looking back, as I spoke, at the Boy, who was close behind, when
suddenly his smile seemed to freeze, and springing forward he caught
me by the coat sleeve.
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