“Son, if you could lie to me about such a thing! … No horse, no fishing, no pardnership with me!”

“Ben, I’m tellin’ you true,” protested Marvie, with sudden haste. “Ina said that, an’ what’s more she said somethin’ you’ll like a darn sight better.”

“Then for Heaven’s sake, tell me!” said Ben, suddenly weak.

“She said, ‘Tell Ben to come over.’ … Now, Ben Ide, what’ve you got to say?”

“I’m beyond words, son,” rejoined Ben, experiencing the swell of an emotion that would render his reply true. Then for the lack of speech he dragged the boy with him, out of the yard, beyond the barns and corral, to the pasture. There seemed to be a thrumming song in his ears; the sky shone a deeper, intenser blue than ever he had seen; the dry fragrance in his face, a message, a symbol of life; the vast pillared clouds, pearly and golden, gorgeous thrones of gods, hung motionless from the dome of the heavens. He could not explain the transformation in the aspect in nature, nor the ringing, singing self within himself.

He shared Marvie’s delight in the whistling, racing wild horses; in the black–and–white pinto colt some day to be the boy’s very own.

“Come, son, don’t hang here all day,” said Ben, finally dragging Marvie off the fence. “We’ll likely find some grasshoppers along the river. I like them best as bait for trout. But they’re getting scarce. This dry spell has killed them off.”

“I’ve got fishin’ worms, if we can’t get grasshoppers,” replied Marvie, with the confidence of a fisherman.

“Where on earth did you get worms at this dry time?” asked Ben, in surprise.

“Got them at home, in one of the ditches,” replied Marvie. “Brought them along with me, packed in wet moss, an’ feed them milk. See—look.” And Marvie produced a wide flat tin box, full of long fat shiny angleworms.

“Say, son, these big rainbows will break their necks after those worms,” exclaimed Ben, enthusiastically. “But let’s catch some grasshoppers, anyhow.”

They had a hot, merry, exciting chase through the dead grass, which ended in their exhaustion and the capture of a few great yellow grasshoppers.

“Gee! they’re dandy big ones. Regular tobacco–chewers,” declared Marvie, with the eye of a connoisseur. “I wish Ina had come with me.”

Forthwith Ben led his visitor along the river bank to the break where willows and cattails and tule flags were green, in vivid contrast with the sun–seared sage. The river was like a pond thick with green scum, but between the high bank and a jutting cape covered with willow lay a deep swirling pool of clear water. Marvie showed amaze and delight. He heard the babble and tinkle of Ben’s priceless spring as it burst from under the bank. This pool was not very wide, though fairly long, extending for some rods before the clear running current slowed and disappeared in the yellow stagnant water of the river. Swamp blackbirds and green–backed frogs and basking turtles were much in evidence.