hour
in Boston gave them barely time to transfer across the city of crooked
streets to the Albany station and to settle themselves for the long ride
to Chicago. Jack provided in advance for plenty of room, engaging a
sleeper section.

By the time the train had shot past the beautiful suburban cities of
Auburn and the Newtons and rolled into Framingham Mr. and Mrs. Sheppard
were quite at home. They commenced to congratulate themselves on looking
like old married folks and that no one would suspect them of being bride
and groom.

"Jack, you know something?" said Hazel in her speculative way that
always meant a favor to come.

"Well, sweetheart, what is it?" Jack presumed it was a glass of water or
apples or that her pillow was not right.

"Well, you know."

Jack knew then that something more than ordinary was coming; that "you
know" indicated not an uncertainty, but was the usual signal for a "hold
up"--nothing short of opera tickets--and the young man wondered what
unsatisfied desire was about to be "you knowed."

"Well, you know that little descriptive story you wrote of Estes Park,
read it to me."

So Mr. Jack resurrected the tale from its pocket in his suit case and in
his rich, modulated voice, read the story for the x--th time, he
thought:

"Peerless Estes! That miniature world wilderness of wonder and delight!
Set apart for the tired brain and careworn wreck from the sepulchers of
business activity! A sweet paradise nestled amidst the encircling
snow-capped peaks whose somber heads rise far above the habitat of
microbe and parasite. Those silent peaks silhouetted against an ethereal
dome of deepest blue or blackest star-bespangled canopy of night! The
mountain air of Estes; the elixir compounded by nature for
reinvigorating battling civilization!

"This enchanted arena, which pen fails adequately to drape in poetical
luxury, was dedicated for combats between rest and toil, health and
sickness, vitality and decay. The angler revels in luxury with the
numbers of easily accessible pools, riffles, meadows, canons, the most
distant an hour's drive and the majority but ten minutes' walk.
Occasionally deer may be seen and the 'Big Horn' come down their aerial
stairway from the clouds to lick from the alkali waters in Horseshoe.
Wait until you see the chattering magpie, with its bronze equipment and
saucy manners. The foe of this long-tailed, noisy inhabitant is a blue
jay (the one James Whitcomb Riley calls t