And Billy leaned toward her sidewise and kissed her.
The way grew hard and rocky as they began to climb, but the
divide was an easy one, and they soon dropped down the canyon of
the Blue Lakes among lush fields of golden poppies. In the bottom
of the canyon lay a wandering sheet of water of intensest blue.
Ahead, the folds of hills interlaced the distance, with a remote
blue mountain rising in the center of the picture.
They asked questions of a handsome, black-eyed man with curly
gray hair, who talked to them in a German accent, while a
cheery-faced woman smiled down at them out of a trellised high
window of the Swiss cottage perched on the bank. Billy watered
the horses at a pretty hotel farther on, where the proprietor
came out and talked and told him he had built it himself,
according to the plans of the black-eyed man with the curly gray
hair, who was a San Francisco architect.
|