"Indeed I do!" The tone was fervent. Then a thought struck him and he
jumped to his feet. "By all luck, I believe there's a little camera in
the car. If there is we'll have it."

He ran to the fence, took a flying leap over, and fell to searching. In
a moment he produced something which he waved at Ruth. She and Ted went
to meet him as he returned. Roberta, busy with the horses, had not seen.

"There are only two exposures left on the film, but they'll do, if
she'll be good. Will she mind if I snap her, or must I ask her
permission?"

"I think you'd better ask it," counselled Ruth doubtfully. "If it were
one of us she wouldn't mind--"

"I see." He set the little instrument with a skilled touch and rapidly,
then walked toward Roberta and the horses. He aimed it with care, then
he called: "You won't mind if I take a picture of the horses, will you?"

Roberta turned quickly, her hand on Colonel's snuggling nose. "Not at
all," she answered, and took a quick step to one side. But before she
had taken it the sharp-eyed little lens of the camera had caught her,
her attitude at the instant one of action, the expression of her face
that of vivacious response. She flew out of range and before she could
speak the camera clicked again, this time the lens so obviously pointed
at the animals, and not at herself, that the intent of the operator
could not be called in question.

She looked at him with indignant suspicion, but his glance in return was
innocent, though his eyes sparkled.