The country was now arrayed in all its June-tide beauty, while flowers lent a rich charm to the fields, and the fresh green of spring arrayed every tree.
The old vagabond instinct rose in him as he sauntered on, now chasing a gorgeous butterfly, now following the flight of some swift bird, now stopping to listen to a trill of woodland music, now taking a wild roll in the grass.
His cap was soon adorned with daisies and buttercups; violets peeped from his button-holes, and he gathered a bouquet of yellow dandelions as if he thought them choice flowers.
“If this ain’t gay I don’t know beans!” he cried, exultingly. “Wouldn’t I like to live out here! Bet I’d go a-fishin’ every day, and a-swimmin’ every other. I’ll go a hoss there ain’t a tree in that woods I can’t climb. Got a notion to shin up some of them just for fun.”
But a frisking ground-squirrel took his attention, and drove out of his head the project of tree-climbing.
This fellow chased to his hole, other objects attracted Will’s delighted eyes, and led him step by step into the woods.
Finally, some sounds behind a thin screen of bushes attracted his notice. He drew carefully up and looked through. There on a flat stone, beside a flowing brook, sat a young lady, her lap full of wild flowers, which she was forming into a bouquet.
She seemed quite young, at furthest not more than eighteen, and was very beautiful as she sat there all unconscious of stranger’s eyes. She was tall and well formed, with a face of most classic outline—the general contour of the features not unlike Will’s own. But the cheek had a peachy bloom which his had long lost, and a gentle, womanly expression replaced his saucy independence.
“Sell me out if she ain’t a beauty!” said Will enthusiastically. “Them long curls is scrumptious. Wonder if she’s my game? I’ll give her a start, just for fun.”
Placing his two hands to his mouth the woods rung with a long, clear call of “Jennie!”