Page:Frank Owen - Woman Without Love (1949 reprint).djvu/107

 your wishes fulfilled. No man is so poor that he cannot buy a sunrise. It doesn't cost much to climb a mountain. And you can walk in the fields without your shoes if you want to, but personally I would rather wear rubbers. A few seasons ago I spent the summer in the Black Hills of South Dakota. It was the most restful summer of my life. I traveled for miles in a khaki suit, smoking an old corn-cob pipe. I searched for fossils in the Badlands. I visited the great Homestake mine at Lead, South Dakota. I journeyed to Wind Cave on the state highway running from Custer to Hot Springs. I spent half a day at Ranger's Lookout on Harney Peak. But the thing that impressed me most was Devil's Tower, the far Western Sentinel to the Black Hills. Unfortunately His Highness, the Devil, wasn't home and I couldn't wait. It was a delightful summer and I can understand your longing to return to rustic things." Then he slapped his knee. "By Jove," he exclaimed, "why not go off with me for a few weeks to the Black Hills?"

Her face brightened up at that. "It's a swell idea," she said jubilantly, "and exactly the sort of vacation I need."

"Swell," said he. "When can you leave?"

"I can arrange to get away Saturday morning," she told him. "I'll put Terese in charge of the house. With Marigold's help she is capable of looking after everything."

That trip to the Black Hills was one long to be remembered. It was a droll affair. They stopped at a rustic farmhouse and drove from the station in a carriage so rickety that Louella was momentarily afraid that the vehicle would split in half and slice her neatly in two. The two horses that pulled the contraption were so ancient they looked as though they were falling apart.

"They need painting," chuckled Ivan, "or better still they ought to be re-shingled to keep out the rain."

The farmhouse was on a par with the carriage and the horses. It hadn't been painted since the flood and evidently there hadn't been any floods recently. However, there was plenty of food for their supper of a coarse, simple variety. Louella was ravenously hungry and she ate a tremendous quantity. She thought of Edna Ferber's new book, "So Big," which she had recently read. Edna Ferber was her favorite author. Louella believed as do