teamster
judgment, admitted that for heavy hauling it was anything but a picnic.
There was the quarry of perfect marble on Hafler's quarter section. He
had said that it would be worth a fortune if near a railroad; but, as it
was, he'd make them a present of it if they wanted it.

Billy visioned the grassy slopes pastured with his horses and cattle,
and found it hard to turn his back; but he listened with a willing ear
to Saxon's argument in favor of a farm-home like the one they had seen
in the moving pictures in Oakland. Yes, he agreed, what they wanted was
an all-around farm, and an all-around farm they would have if they hiked
forty years to find it.

"But it must have redwoods on it," Saxon hastened to stipulate. "I've
fallen in love with them. And we can get along without fog. And there
must be good wagon-roads, and a railroad not more than a thousand miles
away."

Heavy winter rains held them prisoners for two weeks in the Marble
House. Saxon browsed among Hafler's books, though most of them were
depressingly beyond her, while Billy hunted with Hafler's guns. But he
was a poor shot and a worse hunter. His only success was with rabbits,
which he managed to kill on occasions when they stood still. With the
rifle he got nothing, although he fired at half a dozen different deer,
and, once, at a huge cat-creature with a long tail which he was certain
was a mountain lion. Despite the way he grumbled at himself, Saxon could
see the keen joy he was taking. This belated arousal of the hunting
instinct seemed to make almost another man of him. He was out early and
late, compassing prodigious climbs and tramps--once reaching as far as
the gold mines Tom had spoken of, and being away two days.

"Talk about pluggin' away at a job in the city, an' goin' to movie'
pictures and Sunday picnics for amusement!" he would burst out. "I can't
see what was eatin' me that I ever put up with such truck. Here's where
I oughta ben all the time, or some place like it."

He was filled with this new mode of life, and was continually recalling
old hunting tales of his father and telling them to Saxon.

"Say, I don't get stiffened any more after an all-day tramp," he
exulted. "I'm broke in. An' some day, if I meet up with that Hafler,
I'll challenge'm to a tramp that'll break his heart."

"Foolish boy, always wanting to play everybody's game and beat them at
it," Saxon laughed delightedly.

"Aw, I guess you're right," he growled. "Hafle