"Horn toad is right, the way you're scabbling around amongst them rocks," he called light-heartedly to the kid.

"Ever see a purtier sunrise?
I never!" I don't know what they thought of the sunset.

Gorgeous it was, with many soft colors blended into unnamable tints and translucencies, and the songs of birds in the thickets as they passed.

Smoky, Sunfish and Stopper walked briskly, ears perked forward, heads up, eyes eager to catch the familiar landmarks that meant home.

Bud's head was up, also, his eyes went here and there, resting with a careless affection on those same landmarks which spelled home.