"I was sure of that. I have seen Indians and Shakers, but I have never seen a Presbyterian."
When the sun was low and the company ahead were stopping to make a camp for the night, the boy and girl dismounted. She turned facing him and asked:
"You didn't mean it when you said that I was good-looking--did you?"
The bashful youth had imagination and, like many lads of his time, a romantic temperament and the love of poetry. There were many books in his father's home and the boy had lived his leisure in them. He thought a moment and answered:
"Yes, I think you are as beautiful as a young doe playing in the water-lilies."
"And you look as if you believed yourself," said she. "I am sure you would like me better if I were fixed up a little."
"I do not think so."
"How much better a boy's head looks with his hair cut close like yours. Our boys have long hair. They do not look so much like--men."
"Long hair is not for rough work in the bush," the boy remarked.
"You really look brave and strong. One would know that you could do things."