"The Punta Palmas bears are quite the same," commented Dallas. "When they see Mr. Rod coming they sit up on their hind legs politely. And he throws them apples."
"No apples; they won't grow there," said Rod, regretfully. "Only oranges."
"Do you make the saw-mill go yourself—with your own hands?" pursued Eva.
"Not now. I did once."
"Wasn't it very hard work?"
"That? Nothing at all. You should have seen us grubbing up the stumps—Tipp and I!"
"Mr. Tipp is perhaps your partner?" said Dallas.
"Yes; Jim Tipp. Tipp and Rod is the name of the firm."
"Tipp—and Rod," repeated Dallas, slowly. Then with quick utterance, as if trying it, "Tippandrod."
Pierre was now returning with his flowers. As he joined them, round the corner of their zigzag, from a pasture above came a troop of ponies that had escaped from their driver, and were galloping down to Sorrento; two and two they came rushing on, too rapidly to stop, and everybody pressed to one side to give them room to pass on the narrow causeway.