Tinkle, tinkle went the little bell-birds, like fairy chimes ringing in the wind; then the long-drawn liquid note, ending in a sudden chirp, that has earned for its utterer the name of coach-whip, would he heard. And again, as we rode under a big spur that projected from the range as it rose up above us, clothed to its summit in unbroken forest, its crest came out against the sky as if carved, so clear was every curve, so distinct each ragged pine; but there was no sharpness or hardness, the wonderful transparence of the atmosphere was softened by the golden haze that floated over all, that filled each ravine, and lay like a veil on the wooded sides.
Involuntarily as we looked up our eyes met, and hers told me, a thousand times better than the most eloquent words, how the beauty of the sight touched her. But we were not voiceless as a rule. Mrs. Drummond, generally rather silent, was to-day as gay as a child; indeed, we were neither of us very far from girlhood and boyhood; and any one who had seen us racing over the big plain, and heard her ringing, musical laugh as she came in the winner by a few yards, might have supposed we were two youngsters out for a holiday.
One incident was hardly cheerful, though. At Cedar Crossing we went over the river again. This was a very different place to the first ford. The western bank was high, though the edge of a small flat; and as the bed of the stream was narrow, we seemed to be going into a dark trough as we rode down. The water was
