So until morning she lay on one side, and Paul on the other, while he tended the fire that was between them.
PART III
All days are alike in the mountains, all days are marvellously different. It seems sometimes as if a giant hand must push the great hills into new positions and relationships. Then the sky artist makes such daring experiments in shape and colour, as no Cubist ever dreamed of. People say they tire of the mountains and prefer the sea, because it is ever changing, but no man with the seeing eye ever makes that mistake. The sea soothes or irritates, but the mountains rouse the spiritual sources of your being—they are vision makers; they stretch you to your fullest measure, if you go to them with yearning.
The second day of their first expedition they jogged back to the ranch after an early supper on the heights. Barbara went on to the main house to see if hot water could be gotten for a bath, and came back chuckling.
"The bath-tubs are in the laundry house. You get a ticket. I'm thirteen. I hope this isn't a popular hour."
When she set forth laden with towels and soap Paul laughed.
"The luxury-loving idol of Broadway makes for the distant laundry!"
"I'd walk a mile for hot water to take this soreness out of my bones. You'd better get yourself a ticket."
"Thanks, I'll go into the river."