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251 "What name did you give that, dear?"

Ben flushed a little under his coppery tan.

"Tell me," she repeated with sweet insistence.

"Don't think I'm crazy—I was a little ahead of time—but I called it Sally's Bridal Veil!"

"Crazy? I think you're a dear."

She had to kiss him for that, of course—and then, as Spanish Dick was trying to tame another parrot more brilliant than his own pet, and the little yellow Don Alfonso was always a model of discretion—why, she kissed him again.

Then—after a moment—maybe it was ten—he shouted to make himself heard above the roar of the cascade.

"We'll have to stop here—I'll tell you about the rest."

"Oh—don't stop now—just when we've reached the most interesting part. We've just got to finish that picture puzzle, you know."

"Do you see that bridge?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's too dangerous for a girl."

She gauged it with a glance. Perilous indeed seemed the swaying passage over the few rotted planks, haphazardly laid on tenuous cables of liana vines. It was very old and guarded only by an uncertain hand rail, of the same vines, from the rocky chasm where the water-fall thundered. The girl took a deep breath.

"I can make it."

"But there's worse beyond."

But the black ties with their slender toes and heels of a