A bicycle was lying upon the roadside grass, and on the bank, looking as
though he had been sheltering himself under the hedge from the rain, sat
a young man in a cheap bicycling suit. His features were sharply cut and
keen, his cap was pushed back from his forehead, and he had a pair of
shrewdly careless boyish eyes.
Mount Dunstan liked the look of him, and seeing his natural start at the
unheralded leap over the gap, which was quite close to him, he spoke.
"Good-morning," he said. "I am afraid I startled you."
"Good-morning," was the response. "It was a bit of a jolt seeing you
jump almost over my shoulder. Where did you come from? You must have
been just behind me."
"I was," explained Mount Dunstan. "Standing in the park listening to the
robin."
The young fellow laughed outright.
"Say," he said, "that was pretty fine, wasn't it? Wasn't he getting it
off his chest! He was an English robin, I guess. American robins are
three or four times as big. I liked that little chap. He was a winner."
"You are an American?"
"Sure," nodding. "Good old Stars and Stripes for mine. First time I've
been here. Came part for business and part for pleasure. Having the time
of my life.
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