“You—­gazelle!” he shouted triumphantly.  But the pace was too hot for a sudden stop; they lost their balance, and came down together, breast to breast and eye to eye, rolling over on the slope.

It was all like a dream to Olof—­he hardly knew what had happened.  Only that the girl was lying there across his breast, with her loosened hair streaming over his face.  It was like a caress in payment for his exertions, and it almost stifled him.  Still holding her, he looked into her flushed face, into her wonderful eyes—­Gazelle!  He felt like sinking off to sleep, to dream it over again, the charm and wonder of it all....

“Oh, but come!  The others....”

They looked at each other in confusion, and loosed their hold, but were still so agitated they could hardly rise.  Olof handed her the shoe.

“Quick—­put it on, and we’ll go back.”

She put on her shoe, but stood still, as if unable to move.

Olof flushed angrily.  He was vexed at his own confusion, and with the girl as well.

“Come!” he said commandingly, and gave her his hand.  “We must run.”

Shouts of applause greeted them as they appeared hand in hand in sight of the rest.

As they came up, Olof felt his senses in a whirl once more, and clenched his teeth in an effort to appear unconcerned.

“Well run, well run!” cried the others.

“Ha ha, Olof, you got the shoe, and the owner, too—­but it’s made you fine and red.”

“Enough to make anyone red,” gasped Olof shortly.

“Now, on again!  Last man out....”

“No, no—­don’t spoil it now.  We shan’t get another run like that.”

“Yes, that’s enough for to-day.”  Olof’s eyes shone, and he stole a glance at the gazelle.

“But we must have a dance before we go,” cried the girls.

“A dance, then.”

  “What do they mean, the two little stars,
      That shine in the sky so clearly? 
   That a boy and a girl, a youth and a maid,
      They love each other dearly.”

“’Tis a pretty song,” thought Olof, and pressed the girl’s hand unconsciously, and she did not loose her hold.  Then someone led Olof into the ring.

  “What do they mean, the four little stars,
      That shine so bright in the sky? 
   That I give my hand to my own true love,
      And bid the rest good-bye.”

“I’ve never given a thought to the words before,” thought Olof again, and offered his hand to Gazelle.

  “What do they mean, the bright little stars,
      That shine and sparkle above? 
   That hope and longing are part of life,
      And the rest of life is love.”

“All very well,” said someone, with a laugh, “but we must be getting home.  Some of us have a long way to go.”

“Don’t break up the party.  We’ll all go together.  One more round first—­the last.”

  “Never shall I leave my love,
      Never shall we part. 
   Rocks may fall, and trees may fall,
   And the dark sea come and cover all,
      But never shall we part.”