Whereupon these two delightful imps chuckled and wagged their heads with a sincere enjoyment that this mere world could not give!
Johnny slipped off his shoes and stockings and hurriedly put them on the infant Florry, securing them from falling off with a thick cord.This added to their enjoyment.
"We can play cubby house in the stone heap," whispered Florry.
"Hol' on till I tote in this wood," said Johnny."You hide till Icome back."
Johnny swiftly delivered his load with an alacrity he had never shown before.Then they played "cubby house"--not fifty feet from the cabin, with a hushed but guilty satisfaction.But presently it palled.Their domain was too circumscribed for variety."Robinson Crusoe up the tree" was impossible, as being visible from the house windows.Johnny was at his wits' end.Florry was fretful and fastidious.Then a great thought struck him and left him cold.
"If I show you a show, you won't tell?" he said suddenly.
"No."
"Wish yer-ma-die?"
"Ess."
"Got any penny?"
"No."
"Got any slate pencil?"
"No."
"Ain't got any pins nor nuthin'? You kin go in for a pin."But Florry had none of childhood's fluctuating currency with her, having, so to speak, no pockets.
"Well," said Johnny, brightening up, "ye kin go in for luv."The child clipped him with her small arms and smiled, and, Johnny leading the way, they crept on all fours through the thick ferns until they paused before a deep fissure in the soil half overgrown with bramble.In its depths they could hear the monotonous trickle of water.It was really the source of the spring that afterwards reappeared fifty yards nearer the road, and trickled into an unfailing pool known as the Burnt Spring, from the brown color of the surrounding bracken.It was the water supply of the ranch, and the reason for Mr.Medliker's original selection of that site.