Nothing escaped her; no frail air plant trailing from the high water oaks, no school of tiny bass in the shallows where their horses splashed through, no gopher burrow, no foot imprint of the little wild things which haunt the water's edge in forests.
Her eyes missed nothing; her dainty close-set ears heard all--the short, dry note of a chewink, the sweet, wholesome song of the cardinal, the thrilling cries of native jays and woodpeckers, the heavenly outpoured melody of the Florida wren, perched on some tiptop stem, throat swelling under the long, delicate, upturned bill.
Void of self-consciousness, sweetly candid in her wisdom, sharing her lore with him as naturally as she listened to his, small wonder that to him the wilderness was paradise, and she with her soft full voice, a native guide.

For all around them lay an enchanted world as young as they--the world is never older than the young!--and they "had eyes and they saw; ears had they and they heard"-- but not the dead echoes of that warning voice, alas! calling through the ancient wilderness of fable..