An' I'll jest bet anythin' that these steers run right off'n
the bluff inter the creek. I jest know it."
"Oh, not with a preacher an' all these good-lookin' women," replied
Jasper. "Whoa hawr, come here, Buck. Come here, Bright."
The old wagon creaked, groaned, shuddered and away they went down the
hill. Lou and Mrs. Mayfield "bursting into song," Jim and Tom laughing.
The dawn had been red and the early morning was still pink, with here
and there a mist-veil floating up from the creek. In the air were sudden
joys, the indescribable and indefinable glees of a lightsome day, the
very childhood of time; and back to the north the migratory bird was
singing his way, mimicked and laughed at by the native mocking songster,
jongleur of the feathered world. In all this blythe land it did not seem
that there was an ache or a pain, of the body or of the heart; the
light, the air, the music, all combined to form a wordless sermon on the
mount.
"Mr. Reverend, you are silent again," said Mrs. Mayfield, and the
preacher replied: "I didn't know that, ma'm.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115