"
"What beautiful country!" Douglas commented a minute later as the car sped
from the swamp, ran uphill, and down a valley between stretches of tilled
farm land on either side, sloping back to the lakes now growing distant,
then creeping up a gradual incline until Atwater flashed into sight.
"Man! That's fine!" he said, rising in the car to better admire the view,
at which Leslie signalled the driver to run slower. "I don't remember that
I ever saw anything quite so attractive as this. And if ever water invited
a swimmer--that white sand bed seems to extend as far into the lake as you
can see. Jove! Wasn't that a black bass under that thorn bush?"
Leslie's eyes were shining while her laugh was as joyous as any of the
birds. He need not say more. There was a bathing suit in his room; in ten
minutes he could be cleaving the water to the opposite shore and have time
to return before dinner. The car sped down where the road ran level with
the water. A flock of waders arose and circled the lake. On the right was
the orchard, the newly made garden, the tiny cabin with green lawn,
hammocks swinging between trees, Indian blankets spread, and the odour of
cooking food in the air.
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