THE SONG OF THE LARK
their teeth. You like it, don't you? They 're just right for you. Blue and yellow are the Swedish colors." Ray looked intently at her head, bent over his hand, and then gave his whole attention to the track.
"I 'll tell you, Thee," he began after a pause, "I 'm going to form a camping party one of these days and persuade your padre to take you and your mother down to that country, and we 'll live in the rock houses—they 're as comfortable as can be—and start the cook fires up in 'em once again. I 'll go into the burial mounds and get you more keepsakes than any girl ever had before." Ray had planned such an expedition for his wedding journey, and it made his heart thump to see how Thea's eyes kindled when he talked about it. "I 've learned more down there about what makes history," he went on, "than in all the books I 've ever read. When you sit in the sun and let your heels hang out of a doorway that drops a thousand feet, ideas come to you. You begin to feel what the human race has been up against from the beginning. There 's something mighty elevating about those old habitations. You feel like it 's up to you to do your best, on account of those fellows having it so hard. You feel like you owed them something."
At Wassiwappa, Ray got instructions to sidetrack until Thirty-six went by. After reading the message, he turned to his guests. "I 'm afraid this will hold us up about two hours, Mrs. Kronborg, and we won't get into Denver till near midnight."
"That won't trouble me," said Mrs. Kronborg contentedly. "They know me at the Y.W.C.A., and they 'll let me in any time of night. I came to see the country, not to make time. I 've always wanted to get out at this white place and look around, and now I 'll have a chance. What makes it so white?"
"Some kind of chalky rock." Ray sprang to the ground and gave Mrs. Kronborg his hand. "You can get soil of any color in Colorado; match most any ribbon."
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