But through the glasses we could identify our pretty tree-climbers quite plainly, at least by costume.
Terry watched them, we all did for that matter, till they disappeared among the houses.

Then he put down his glass and turned to us, drawing a long breath.

"Mother of Mike, boys--what Gorgeous Girls! To climb like that! to run like that! and afraid of nothing.

This country suits me all right.

Let's get ahead." "Nothing venture, nothing have," I suggested, but Terry preferred "Faint heart ne'er won fair lady." We set forth in the open, walking briskly.