“And you don’t like him, Esau?”
“That’s about true, Mr Gordon,” cried Esau. “But oh my!—only look!”
I needed no telling, for as we stood on the banks of that swift river, with the forest rising behind us, and the sun glorifying everything around, all thoughts of the last night’s low spirits, and the trouble we had gone through, were forgotten, and I felt ready to shout for joy.
The axe of the woodman had been at work, but so little that it was hardly noticeable, and, look which way we would, all was lovely, glorious, more beautiful than words can paint.
“Here, I want to shout. I want to lie down and roll. Here, lay hold of my ankles and hold me,” cried Esau, “Why? What are you going to do?”
“I feel as if I must stand on my head, or I shall go mad. I do indeed.”
“Don’t be so stupid.”
“But it ain’t stupid. It’s all so—so—Oh! I can’t tell you how beautiful it is.”
“Never mind now. We are here, and can go on liking it.”
“Yes, I know; but—I say, lookye here. What a tree to climb, with all its branches standing out like steps, and—Why, it must be a hundred feet high.”