"It surely is a treat to him, isn't it?" asked Mr. Allen.
"Yes, and to us all," replied Ham. "I just wonder what some city people would think of it. When I get old, fellows, I'm going to find me some such a little canyon as this and live out my life in it. I don't believe a fellow could ever think a mean thought out here, could he? He'd be almost afraid to."
"It's an ideal place, all right," returned Mr. Allen.
"Why, I believe I'd be an orator if I just had this valley for a class," went on Ham.
"It's a good thing such places can't be moved," suggested Phil, "or some of these wealthy fellows would be buying them all up and putting them in their art galleries. This view would create quite a sensation in New York City, don't you think? Fifty thousand dollars is not much for a few feet of masterpiece, but this can be had for a few dollars an acre. Strange, isn't it?"
"A man paints a little picture on a canvas and worries over it until his hair gets long and his face sad. He is then a genius. People go wild over a man that can copy a little scene. Yet those same people declare there is no Creator. Account for a valley like this without Him, can you?" declared Fat.
"The man that can deny Him, standing here in this little bit of His handiwork," solemnly declared Ham, "is blind, deaf, and dumb, besides having marked tendencies toward insanity."
"Halloo," came in a clear shout from up on the hillside.
"By gracious, he's found a mine!" cried Ham, jumping up.
"Halloo," he shouted back. "What did you find?"