I wish't you could see how pretty the hills is--they're gitting green now some." "And the sky is blue ?" Her eyes turned up, sensible of no more than a feeling that light was somewhere.
"Right blue, ma'am, with leetle white clouds, not very big.

I wish't you could see our sky." "And trees ?" "Dark green, ma'am--pine trees always is." She heard the rumble of the wheels on planks, caught the sound of rushing waters.
"This is the bridge over the West Fork, ma'am," said her companion.
"It's right pretty here--the water runs over the rocks like." "And what is the country like on ahead, where--where we're going ?" "It's in a valley like, ma'am," said Sim Gage.
"There's mountains on each side--they come closest down to the other fork, near in where I live.

That fork's just as clean as glass, ma'am--you can see right down into it, twenty feet----" Then suddenly he caught himself.

"That is, I wish't you could.

Plenty of fish in it--trout and grayling--I'll catch you all you want, ma'am.