“This certainly is a good looking spot. No wonder the early pioneers settled in rock-bound Vermont, but, gosh, what a fight they had to put up to get a living out of those rocks,” Bob remarked as his eyes roamed admiringly over the green hills, across the blue water, on to the distant mountains.
“It isn’t a rich state yet, but it has produced some fine men. Real rip-snorters, rearin’ to go,” Jim added. By that time they had reached the “hole” and could see the strange boy working industriously at his terrace.
“You know, Bob, we want to be kind of careful because we don’t want to do any butting-in on that kid. Maybe, far as he’s concerned, we had better mind our own business.”
“Reckon you’re right, but let’s try to make friends with him,” Bob suggested, and that was passed without a dissenting vote.
“Oh boys.”
“Here,” Bob shouted to his uncle.
“How long would it take you to get me to Burlington?” the man asked as he came up to them.
“Less than an hour,” Bob answered.
“Would it be too much trouble for you to take me?”
“Not one bit,” Jim assured him. “Ever been up in a plane, sir?”