“I say, Chris,” said Ned, with his mouth full, or nearly so, of juicy pear, “is this all a dream?”
“My peach tastes just like a real one,” was the reply. “But I say, father, the fruit never used to grow like this.”
“No, my boy,” said the doctor; “I feel half stunned in my surprise. A complete change seems to have come over everything. The weeds and wild things have run rampant, but the fruit-trees, such as I can see, all look clean and free from blight.”
“Say, neighbour,” cried Griggs, “I’m going over to my place now, if some one else will help at the clearance. These grapes, you know.”
“They’re splendid,” said the doctor. “What about them?”
“Why, this,” said Griggs; “I planted lots, and they’d never grow any more than my oranges would.”
“Oranges!” cried Chris. “Here, father, we haven’t looked at our grove.”
“Come on with me, then,” said Griggs, “and we’ll take it on the way. I want to see mine too. As to the grapes, if yours’ll grow like this so ought mine; and if they have—But wait a bit.”
All mounted again, to make their mustangs breast their way in the direction of the dried-up peach and orange-grove which they had toiled over in despair, and at the first glance a shout of delight arose.
“Why, father,” cried Chris, “what was the good of going there through thirst and starvation to find phantom gold when it is glowing and growing, and breaking down the branches here?”