His pony bolted, and they raced along together as comrades happily join forces in a headlong dream.

Quivering bamboo swept behind them; the river, on their other hand, met and passed in hurrying panorama.

They had no time for words, but only laughter.

Words, indeed, had never yet advanced them beyond that moment on the pagoda.

And now, when their ponies fell into a shambling trot, came the first impulse of speech.
"How lucky!" she cried.