Page:Jim of the Hills.djvu/68

 I know I wouldn't, if she called.) "It's wondrous how the tracks are walled With these great trees that touch the sky On either side." "Yes, miss," says I.

She fondles my old dog a bit; I wait to make a bolt for it. (There ain't no call to stand an' talk With one who'd be too proud to walk' A half-a-yard with such as me.) "The wind seems workin' up," says she. "Yes, miss," I says, an' lifts me hat. An' she just lets it go at that.

She lets me reach the dribblin' ford— That day to me it fairly roared. (At least, that's how the thing appears; But blood was poundin' in my ears.) She waits till I have fairly crossed: "I thought I told you I was lost?" She cries. "An' you go walkin' off, Quite scornful, like some proud bush toff!"

She got me thinkin' hard with that. "Yes, miss," I says, an' lifts my hat. But she just waits there on the track. An' lets me walk the whole way back.