Page:Emma Speed Sampson--The shorn lamb.djvu/153

Rh Rebecca did not visit the cabin. She often met Jo Bolling there. Sometimes she found him waiting for her at the ford. She knew he was waiting for her, although the boy always pretended to be much astonished that she should be coming that way just when he happened to be sitting on the roof of Faithful Heart's house. He would cross the little river by means of a huge sycamore tree that had fallen across it not far from the mouth of the stream that worked the hydraulic ram. Sometimes he would climb a willow tree, hiding from her until she was in midstream, jumping from stone to stone, and then he would suddenly call out like a screech owl, and be highly delighted if Rebecca should start with fright and slip into the shallow water, wetting her little shoes.

Jo taught her many things besides how to bluff a cowardly ram; lore that is almost instinctive knowledge with children born in the country. She drank in the information greedily, taking in all Jo told her as shining truth. Sometimes his biology was a little sketchy, but always it was wonderful to the city-bred child.

"Does a springkeeper make the water pure and clear, Jo?" she asked wonderingly, as he showed her a strange-looking, crawfish-like creature.