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The ice was so transparent that I could see through it the beautifully wave-rippled, sandy bottom, and the scales of mica glinting back the down-pouring light. When I knelt down with my face close to the ice, through which the sunbeams were pouring, I was delighted to discover myriads of Tyndall's six-rayed water flowers, magnificently colored. A grand old mountain mansion is this Tenaya region!
Joan's hat hung on the saddle-horn, the morning wind was trifling with light breath in her soft, wave-rippled hair. Her brilliant necktie had been put aside for one of narrower span and more sober hue, a blue with white dots.
Something loomed in the mist before her took shape and form suddenly moved towards her across the wave-rippled sand. "Leslie!" exclaimed Anne in amazement. "Whatever are you doing HERE tonight?" "If it comes to that, whatever are YOU doing here?" said Leslie, trying to laugh. The effort was a failure.
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