"I stare shamelessly, and you never know.
Come along now, and we'll go fishing and have a bully time." He took her arm and led her out into the brilliant sunlight, across the yard, across the little rivulet which made down from the spring through the thin fringe of willows, out across the edge of the hay lands to the high, unbroken ridges covered with stubby sage brush which lay beyond between the meadows and the river.

The little Airedale, Tim, went with them, bounding and barking, running in a hundred circles, finding a score of things of which he tried to tell them.
It was no long walk, no more than a half mile in all, but he stopped frequently to tell her about the country, to explain how blue the sky was with its small white clouds, how inviting the long line of the mountains across the valley, how sweet the green of the meadows and the blue-gray of the sage.

She was eager as a child.
"The river is that way," said she after a while.
"How do you know ?" "I can feel it--I can feel the water.

It's cooler along the stream, I suppose." "Well, you've guessed it right," said he.

"There's going to be quite a world for you, so don't be discouraged.