"Just barley? It must be rather dull, growing barley all year long."
"We have some cattle and chickens, too. But I spend most of my time tending the irrigation ditches. Summertime it's a sunrise to sunset job."
"You poor man. You—" Suddenly Alice Cooper's eyes grew big. She gasped and clutched at Marsden's arm. "Harry, over there! Ooo, Harry!"
Marsden turned, saw a small dog bounding across the field playfully, turning and twisting and barking at its own shadow.
"It's nothing to be afraid of."
"An animal, nothing to be afraid of? Harry, it's coming this way."
The dog had seen them. Yelping, its tail wagging, it came right up to them, nuzzling against Marsden's leg while he crouched and petted it.
"Better take me back to town, Harry."
"There boy, there boy." Marsden scratched the dog's ear, cuffed it gingerly with his big hand, turned it around, thumped its rear and watched it leap away across the rocky meadow. "Don't worry, Miss. A little dog like that never hurt anyone."
"I feel faint, Harry. I expected wilderness and that's what I came to see—but animals running around loose? That's too much."