On their way back Teresa ran ahead of her companion, and plucking a few tiny leaves from a hidden oasis in the bark-strewn trail brought them to him.
"That's the kind you're looking for, isn't it?" she said, half timidly.
"It is," responded Low, in gratified surprise; "but how did you know it? You're not a botanist, are you?"
"I reckon not," said Teresa; "but you picked some when we came, and I noticed what they were."
Here was indeed another revelation. Low stopped and gazed at her with such frank, open, utterly unabashed curiosity that her black eyes fell before him.
"And do you think," he asked with logical deliberation, "that you could find any plant from another I should give you?"
"Yes."
"Or from a drawing of it?"
"Yes; perhaps even if you described it to me."
A half-confidential, half fraternal silence followed.