"Talk about the nectar of the gods!" cried Kitty with a deep breath of
satisfaction, as she lifted her smiling face from the bright water to
look up at him. And then she drank again.
"And now, if you please, sir, you may bring me some of that
water-cress; we'll sit over there in the shade, and who cares whether
Granite Basin, the Mannings, and your fellow cow-punchers, are fifteen
or fifty miles away?"
He brought a generous bunch of the water-cress, and stretched himself
full length beside her, as she sat on the ground under a tall sycamore.
"Selah!" he laughed contentedly. "We seem to lack only the book of
verses, the loaf and the jug; the wilderness is here, all right, and
that's a perfectly good bough up there, and, of course, you could
furnish the song; I might recite 'The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck,'
but, alas! we haven't even a flask and biscuit."
"What a pity that you should be so near and yet so far from paradise!"
she retorted quickly. Then she added, with a mischievous smile, "It just
happens that I have a sandwich in my saddle pocket."
"Won't you sing? Please do," he returned, with an eagerness that amused
her.
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