HAPPY HOLLOW FARM 23 



from that first hour, that we had come to the 

 end of our rainbow. 



"Well," I said, after a while, "we might as 

 well go and have a look at the farm." There 

 was only one farm in our minds. Think what 

 you will, say what you like about it, the thing 

 was already settled. We hunted up our real 

 estate man, told him what we wanted, and 

 showed him our checked copy of his list. "We 

 want a place quite in the rough," I explained; 

 "one that we may improve for ourselves. You 

 understand." 



He took a good look at us, to make sure that 

 he understood. No doubt he had us sized up 

 about right, as a couple of crazy enthusiasts. 

 He didn't try to argue us out of our notion. 

 "Yes," he said, "I guess maybe that place 

 might suit you, if you really want one in the 

 rough." Without more talk we drove out of 

 town. 



It was an old, old road we traveled; the 

 Huntsville Road, it's called. Settlement of 

 this Ozark country began a full century ago, 

 in a day when rude trails were the only trav- 

 eled ways. The Huntsville Road survived 

 from the old times. It showed its age. Gray, 

 tottering stone walls and gray, rotting rail 



