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"Gun go bang-bang!" explained the little chap, "bad bears run 'way off. Turn on, Dodo, we go wif 'em," and he nodded at the "hikers," as Will unfeelingly characterized his sister and her chums. "Go back! Go back!" cried Mollie, now again on the verge of tears. "Oh, you bad children! What shall I do? Mamma will be dreadfully worried, and if we take them back we'll lose a lot of time.
When is it to be?" "I think to-day would be a good time about two o'clock. It isn't very pleasant out, raw and chilly. I'll go round and invite them now. Will you come, too?" "No, I'll sit here and read. You run along and get your hikers, and then come back and tell me about it." Polly aroused more enthusiasm among the ladies than Miss Sterling had thought possible. Almost everybody, even Mrs.
Of course she wiped up her tears pretty soon, not willin' to lose any of the wimmen's bright speeches. But when her tear-drops fell fast, Josiah sez to me, "You'll see them wimmen run like hikers now, wimmen always thought more of shiffon and fol-de-rols than they did of principle."
He lay looking up into the leafy branches of the sycamore beside him and watched a star slip slowly across an open space between the branches. Farther up the grove a hilarious group of young hikers sang snatches of songs to the uncertain accompaniment of a ukelele.
Some rough furniture lay about; rusted cooking-utensils littered the tables, and at one end was a sheet-iron stove. The place had been equipped after a fashion by deer-hunters or mountain hikers, who brought additional furnishings to the place each year and left mouldy provisions and unconsumed firewood behind. The man succeeded finally in closing the door. He turned upon her.
Many hikers and campers now spend their annual vacations in these forests. Throughout the White Mountain forest of New Hampshire, regular trails for walking parties have been made. At frequent intervals simple camps for the use of travelers have been built by mountaineering clubs. This forest, located as it is near centres of large population is visited by a half-million tourists each season.
I doubt the performances got up to exploit it, though somehow, when the hikers started from New York to Albany, and afterward from New York to Washington, the inspiring thought of Bertha von Hillern came back to me. I am sure the reader never heard of her. As it makes a pretty story let me tell it.
But she is ambitious; she raised a flock of fifty-six turkeys last year besides doin' her house work, and makin' seventy-five yards of rag carpet. And she thought onions wouldn't be so wearin' on her as turkeys, for onions, she said, will stay where they are put, but turkeys are born wanderers and hikers.
It used to be mighty rough, I reckon, an' only good fer hikers, but they fixed it up so they can drive cattle down, an' even a wagon if yer take it easy." "Mendez fixed it?" "No; I heerd that Bill Lacy sorter handled that job. The Mex can't do nuthin' but steal." "Then Lacy is the go-between? He sells the cattle?" "Sure; I s'posed yer knew that.
Peddlers and tramps and agents, country drummers and country circuses, medicine men who shouted the versatile merits of corn salve by the light of flaring torches, eccentric orators of eccentric theology, tent-shows of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," with real bloodhounds and unreal painted ice, gypsies who were always expected to steal some one's children and never did, peddlers with creaking, clinking wagons, hucksters and motorcyclists, motorists and dusty hikers one by one in the days to come Diane was to meet them all and learn that the nomads of the summer road were a happy-go-lucky guild of peculiar and coöperative good humor.
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