"I expect it's awfully crude," she apologized, with one of her diffident spells.

"I'm afraid you'll laugh at me." Robert Grant Burns was reading rapidly, mentally photographing the scenes as he went along.

He held out his hand again without looking toward her.

"Lemme take your pencil a minute.

I believe I'd have a panoram of the coulee,--a long shot from out there in the meadow.