Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/322

 Gaylord liked what he saw and dreamily followed the flight of four dragon flies that skimmed the surface of the water under the arch of trees. He watched them until they vanished. The green world swam about him, blocking out the glaring outside world on all sides, and the high bending trees followed suit. Patches of sun, shining like spotlights, formed on the cool short grass, the sand and the clear water. Now and then the deafening silence was broken by the chirp of a bird, crickets, and occasionally, the splash of a frog.

"Glenn," Gaylord said with an air of enchantment … "this is beautiful … just beautiful." His boots sank in the soft sand. Beige sand that continued in a gentle slope until it melted into the clear water.

Memories, the greatest of arts, re-created for Gaylord scenes out of the past that must have taken place here. Scenes, now in action, now in words, bits of dialogue, touched him deeply remembering all the time that this was Glenn Rogers' paradise … or had been.

And then Rogers made it more fascinating by saying that he had found several Indian arrows. He had even found an old rusty hatchet.

Gaylord could see their naked red skins plainly as he listened. Could see the tepees they lived in and the cruel tomahawks they scalped with. They must have been a carefree people though, living all over America long before the pioneers came. He said, "I saw some Indians in Oklahoma City. 'Course they don't look like they used to. I don't guess they do. Dad says there's lots of them in Arizona. Live on a reservation."

"I'd hate to live on one, wouldn't you?"

"I sure would. Guess you'd have to get permission to do anything on a reservation. Probably even to leave it …" Gaylord grinned, "if we lived on one … we couldn't go fishing, could we?"

"That's right, we came here to fish, didn't we?" Rogers got up from his squatting position. "I've some poles and a seine over by that shed I built." He pointed to a small shelter almost hidden with brush. Three hand made poles lay against it and continued up the tree trunk. From inside the shelter he drew a tarpaulin, unfolded it and brought forth a seine.

"Dam, you're smart, Glenn," Gaylord said, by his side. 312