"Sit tight," she said tersely. "The Bear Cat just loves its cave. It knows where it is going."She broke through a group of young willows and ran the car ! into a tiny plateau, walled in a circle by the sheer sides of the !
canyon reaching upward almost out of sight, topped with great jagged overhanging boulders. Crowded to one side, she stopped the car and sat quietly, smiling at Donald Whiting.
"How about it?" she asked in a low voice.
The boy looked around him, carefully examining the canyon walls, and then at the level, odorous floor where one could not step without crushing tiny flowers of white, cerise, blue, and yellow.
Big ferns grew along the walls, here and there "Our Lord's Candles" lifted high torches not yet lighted, the ambitiousmountain stream skipped and circled and fell over its rocky bed, while many canyon wrens were singing.
"Do you think," she said, "that anyone driving along here at an ordinary rate of speed would see that car?""No," said Donald, getting her idea, "I don't believe they would.""All right, then," said Linda. "Toe up even and I'll race YoU to the third curve where you see the big white sycamore."Donald had a fleeting impression of a flash of khaki, a gleam of red, and a wave of black as they started. He ran with all the speed he had ever attained at a track meet. He ran with all his might. He ran until his sides strained and his breath came short; but the creature beside him was not running; she was flying; and long before they neared the sycamore he knew he was beaten, so he laughingly cried to her to stop it. Linda turned to him panting and laughing.
"I make that dash every time I come to the canyon, to keep my muscle up, but this is the first time I have had anyone to race with in a long time."Then together they slowly walked down the smooth black floor between the canyon walls. As they crossed a small bridge Linda leaned over and looked down.
"Anyone at your house care about 'nose twister'?" she asked lightly.
"Why, isn't that watercress?" asked Donald.
"Sure it is," said Linda. "Anyone at your house like it?""Every one of us," answered Donald. "We're all batty about cress salad--and, say, that reminds me of something! If you know so much about this canyon and everything in it, is there any place in it where a fellow could find a plant, a kind of salad lettuce, that the Indians used to use?""Might be," said Linda carelessly. "For why?""Haven't you heard of the big sensation that is being made in feminine circles by the new department in Everybody's Home?"inquired Donald. "Mother and Mary Louise were discussing it the other day at lunch, and they said that some of the recipes for dishes to be made from stuff the Indians used sounded delicious.
One reminded them of cress, and when we saw the cress I wondered if I could get them some of the other.""Might," said Linda drily, "if you could give me a pretty good idea of what it is that you want.""When you know cress, it's queer that you wouldn't know other things in your own particular canyon," said Donald.
Linda realized that she had overdone her disinterestedness a trifle.
"I suspect it's miners' lettuce you want," she said. "Of course I know where there's some, but you will want it as fresh as possible if you take any, so we'll finish our day first and gather it the last thing before we leave."How it started neither of them noticed, but they had not gone far before they were climbing the walls and hanging to precarious footings. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes brilliant, her lips laughing, Linda was showing Donald thrifty specimens of that Cotyledon known as "old hen and chickens," telling him of the rare Echeveria of the same family, and her plunge down the canyon side while trying to uproot it, exulting that she had brought down the plant without a rift in the exquisite bloom on its leaves.
Linda told about her fall, and the two men who had passed at that instant, and how she had met them later, and who they were, and what they were doing. Then Donald climbed high for a bunch of larkspur, and Linda showed him how to turn his back to the canyon wall and come down with the least possible damage to his person and clothing. When at last both of them were tired they went back to the car. Linda spread an old Indian blanket over the least flower-grown spot she could select, brought out the thermos bottles and lunch case, and served their lunch. With a glass of fruit punch in one hand and a lettuce sandwich in the other, Donald smiled at Linda.
"I'll agree about Katy. She knows how," he said appreciatively.
"Katy is more than a cook," said Linda quietly. "She is a human being. She has the biggest, kindest heart. When anybody's sick or in trouble she's the greatest help. She is honest; she has principles; she is intelligent. In her spare time she reads good books and magazines. She knows what is going on in the world.
She can talk intelligently on almost any subject. It's no disgrace to be a cook. If it were, Katy would be unspeakable.
Fact is, at the present minute there's no one in all the world so dear to me as Katy. I always talk Irish with her.""Well, I call that rough on your sister," said Donald.
"Maybe it is," conceded Linda. "I suspect a lady wouldn't have i said that, but Eileen and I are so different. She never has made the slightest effort to prove herself lovable to me, and so Ihave never learned to love her. Which reminds me--how did you happen to come to the garage?""The very beautiful young lady who opened the door mistook me for a mechanic. She told me I would find you working on your car and for goodness' sake to see that it was in proper condition before you drove it."Linda looked at him with wide, surprised eyes in which a trace of indignation was plainly discernible.
"Now listen to me," she said deliberately. "Eileen is a most sophisticated young lady. If she saw you, she never in this world, thought you were a mechanic sent from a garage presenting yourself at our front door.""There might have been a spark of malice in the big blue-gray Ieyes that carefully appraised me," said Donald.
