es
on the land he had left than you could shake a stick at. Plantin'
tomatoes wrapped up in wrappin' paper--ever heard of that? Father
snorted when he first seen the Porchugeeze doin' it. An' he went on
snortin'. Just the same they got bumper crops, an' father's house-patch
of tomatoes was eaten by the black beetles. We ain't got the sabe,
or the knack, or something or other. Just look at this piece of
ground--four crops a year, an' every inch of soil workin' over time.
Why, back in town there, there's single acres that earns more than fifty
of ours in the old days. The Porchugeeze is natural-born farmers, that's
all, an' we don't know nothin' about farmin' an' never did."

Saxon talked with the lineman, following him about, till one o'clock,
when he looked at his watch, said good bye, and returned to his task of
putting in a telephone for the latest immigrant from the Azores.

When in town, Saxon carried her oilcloth-wrapped telescope in her hand;
but it was so arranged with loops, that, once on the road, she could
thrust her arms through the loops and carry it on her back. When she did
this, the tiny ukulele case was shifted so that it hung under her left
arm.

A mile on from the lineman, they stopped where a small creek, fringed
with brush, crossed the county road. Billy was for the cold lunch, which
was the last meal Saxon had prepared in the Pine street cottage; but
she was determined upon building a fire and boiling coffee. Not that she
desired it for herself, but that she was impressed with the idea
that everything at the starting of their strange wandering must be as
comfortable as possible for Billy's sake. Bent on inspiring him with
enthusiasm equal to her own, she declined to dampen what sparks he had
caught by anything so uncheerful as a cold meal.

"Now one thing we want to get out of our heads right at the start,
Billy, is that we're in a hurry. We're not in a hurry, and we don't care
whether school keeps or not. We're out to have a good time, a regular
adventure like you read about in books.--My! I wish that boy that took
me fishing to Goat Island could see me now. Oakland was just a place
to start from, he said. And, well, we've started, haven't we? And right
here's where we stop and boil coffee. You get the fire going, Billy, and
I'll get the water and the things ready to spread out."

"Say," Billy remarked, while they waited for the water to boil, "d'ye
know what this reminds me of?"

Saxon was