CHAPTER XXX

ingonlittlenamelessriversorhiddenbrooksonwhosebanksNaiadsmighthavesunnedtheirwhite,wetlimbs.Thenalltheytookwiththemweresomerawpotatoesandsalt.TheyroastedthepotatoesoverafireandBarneyshowedValancyhowtocookthetroutbywrappingtheminleaves,coatingthemwithmudandbakingtheminabedofhotcoals.Neverweresuchdeliciousmeals.Valancyhadsuchanappetiteitwasnowondersheputfleshonherbones. Ortheyjustprowledandexploredthroughwoodsthatalwaysseemedtobeexpectingsomethingwonderfultohappen.Atleast,thatwasthewayValancyfeltaboutthem.Downthenexthollow—overthenexthill—youwouldfindit. “Wedon’tknowwherewe’regoing,butisn’titfuntogo?”Barneyusedtosay. Onceortwicenightovertookthem,toofarfromtheirBlueCastletogetback.ButBarneymadeafragrantbedofbrackenandfirboughsandtheysleptonitdreamlessly,underaceilingofoldspruceswithmosshangingfromthem,whilebeyondthemmoonlightandthemurmurofpinesblendedtogethersothatonecouldhardlytellwhichwaslightandwhichwassound. Therewererainydays,ofcourse,whenMuskokawasawetgreenland.DayswhenshowersdriftedacrossMistawislikepaleghostsofrainandtheyneverthoughtofstayinginbecauseofit.Dayswhenitrainedinrightgoodearnestandtheyhadtostayin.ThenBarneyshuthimselfupinBluebeard’sChamberandValancyread,ordreamedonthewolfskinswithGoodLuckpurringbesideherandBanjowatchingthemsuspiciouslyfromhisownpeculiarchair.OnSundayeveningstheypaddledacrosstoapointoflandandwalkedfromtherethroughthewoodstothelittleFreeMethodistchurch.OnefeltreallytoohappyforSunday.ValancyhadneverreallylikedSundaysbefore. Andalways,Sundaysandweekdays,shewaswithBarney.Nothingelsereallymattered.Andwhatacompanionhewas!Howunderstanding!Howjolly!How—howBarney—like!Thatsummeditallup. Valancyhadtakensomeofhertwohundreddollarsoutofthebankandspentitinprettyclothes.Shehadalittlesmoke-bluechiffonwhichshealwaysputonwhentheyspenttheeveningathome—smoke-bluewithtouchesofsilveraboutit.Itwas