"It would be great fun," answered Jane, simply, "to have letters from a real cowboy with six-shooters in his belt."
"I 'll take them out when I write to you. Must we go back? Well, if you think we ought--though I 'd like to lie here all day and dream dreams about the great things I 'm going to do. But a fellow can't dream much in the society of the Bells--he has to be up and doing."
"With a heart for any fate," quoted Jane, blithely, as she led the way. "I 'll tell you a better motto than that, though, fine as it is."
"What is it? Give it to me, will you?"
"I 'll write it out for you."
"When?"
"To-morrow, perhaps."
"To-day, please. I 'm an impatient chap."
"Very well. You shall have it when we get home. It's one I can't talk about, somehow--it gives me a choke in my throat--I don't know why."
Hours later Murray found out why. By the time he and Jane had rejoined the rest of the party the threatening storm-clouds had brought the promised rain. The lunch had to be eaten in Grandmother Bell's pleasant kitchen, but the guests enjoyed it almost as much as they could have done in the sylvan spot that Peter had picked out. By three o'clock in the afternoon the storm had passed. It had cooled the air a little, so that it was possible for the party to spend three long and delightful hours upon the river before going home.