SUMMER IN A BOG. 21 



tired wheels had given no sound. I gather up 

 an armful of spoils and make for the fence, 

 noting as I pass along the buds for later blos- 

 soms. 



"And what did you find on the ribbon coun- 

 ter?" asks the Doctor. 



"The most wonderful bargains I ever saw! 

 To be had for the taking! Not less than a 

 dozen things here that I never saw before. And 

 more that I had not time to see. How I hate 

 to leave it; but I will come back soon. What 

 do you think I saw there ? Buds for the fringed 

 gentian! What do you say to that?" 



He said nothing, and we bowled along si- 

 lently for some time. 



An old man, straight and hale, came walk- 

 ing leisurely toward us. Heavy brows shaded 

 bright gray eyes, which regarded us kindly. 



We drew up for a little conversation, and 

 the two men talked of the crops, markets, cattle, 

 — the usual grind. Taking advantage of a 

 pause : 



"You don't remember the building of this 

 road, I suppose?" I said. 



"Not quite. It was built along here about 

 the time I was bom; that was in 1834, but 

 commenced in '30. A good road, one of the 

 best in America. It was intended to reach 

 St. Louis, but I 'm not sure that it was ever 



