It was almost eleven o’clock when they arrived at their point of departure and had removed their wading boots. Gail went to her saddle and unlashed a little luncheon basket.
She utilized a large tree stump for a table, and after it had been covered with a napkin and the dainty luncheon of boned chicken, sardines and crackers had been set forth, she called to Roderick and asked him to fill a pair of silver collapsible drinking cups which she handed to him. He went to the brook and returned with the ice-cold mountain vintage.
“I am just hungry enough,” said Gail, “to enjoy this luncheon although it is not a very sumptuous repast.”
Roderick smiled as he took a seat upon the felled tree.
“Expect you think you will inveigle me into agreeing with you. But not on your life. I would enjoy such a luncheon as this any time, even if I were not hungry. But in the present circumstances—well, I will let you pass judgment upon my appetite after we have eaten.”
“As they say on the long army marches in the books,” said Gail, gaily, “I guess we had better fall to.” And forthwith with much merriment and satisfaction over their morning’s catch they proceeded to dispose of the comestibles.
It was only a little after noon when they reached the Conchshell ranch, and soon thereafter Roderick’s pony was galloping along the road on his homeward way. He had never enjoyed such a morning in all his life.