"I suppose this sense of awe, of rest, is worship, is religion."
Barbara took a deep breath.
"Yes, it makes you feel purified."
The trail wound up and up. Every instant the view changed. There were difficulties to be met, where washouts had made the road almost impassable. It seemed only an hour or two later that they caught up with Bill, clearing a space to make a fire and cook the lunch.
"Not lunch! Why, what time is it?" cried Bob.
"One o'clock by my watch, ten minutes since we started by my mind, and six o'clock to-night by my appetite," said Paul.
Seated on the ground, eating a thick sandwich and devouring Heinz's pickles, Barbara sighed ecstatically.
"There never was such food," said she.
"And that for your sated New York appetite!" laughed Paul.
After lunch Bill decreed a rest for man and beast. He made a couch of pine needles for Bob, threw down her blanket on it, and betook himself off with the ponies. Bob stretched out on her bed, Trent sitting beside her to smoke.