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“Holy Smoke! Be this the River Jording I’ve come ter?” CHAPTER XV.—MERRY-MAKING IN THE HAY-LOFT. “Sure. All the kids. But Clarence especially,—he’s my son, you know.” Billy grinned..

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As he crashed again through the close-grown brush he almost forgot the ugly scene just enacted below. He had been sorry to leave Bouncer to come with the girls; now he was glad. It was good to be quite alone up there with Nature in her less familiar places. A dark ravine lured him. Well as he knew the mountain he had never explored this gorge. The delicate fragrance of wild azaleas greeted him; he could see their pale pink bloom tipping the tall trees that rose out of the chaparral forty or fifty feet above the stream that tinkled beneath them. As far as general knowledge went, Betty was a complete encyclopedia ahead of Moses. That youth’s brains had too many labyrinthine passages through which knowledge meandered and got lost to ever lay claim to erudition. As for creative ability, Betty imbibed ideas at every pore. She took odd moments of her busy days and patching them together made hours of creative joy, a sort of mental Joseph’s coat of rainbow brightness. Out of the tail of her eye Betty noted this little touch of sentiment and was much impressed. “Gosh!” he exclaimed, as Isobel closed on the last startlingly unexpected note, “that’s where some feller planks his strawr hat on a beauty butterfly!”.