"That arch was not over the spring in those days, though," said papa.
But papa stood and looked at the spring and at the ravine, and I saw that he was catching something of my feeling. We mounted there, and the rest of the way we had no more talk. I did not want to talk. There was too much to think about, as we wound down the rough valleys or watercourses among the desolate hills; while the air grew constantly warmer as we got lower. No trees, no life, no vine terraces; and this was the way to Jericho. At the ruined khan, a good distance from the top, we dismounted and stopped to rest and take our lunch.
"Well, Daisy," said papa, "are you enjoying yet?"
"Every minute, papa."
"I am very glad. But I am very tired."
"Papa, you must take a good rest here; and here is an orange for you. I will give you something else directly."
Papa stretched himself out wearily on the stones.
"What is the source of your pleasure just now, Daisy? It is as barren a landscape as ever I traversed."
"Papa, David went this way when he fled from Absalom."
"Humph!" said papa, as if there were not much pleasure in that association.