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Roy, Lillian Elizabeth, 1868-1932

"Polly of Pebbly Pit"


"I simply won't consider going back home yet!" declared Eleanor.
"We might go on a bit further before eating, and then we can see what
the trail is like. If we decided to try for the Grizzly Something-or-
other Poll mentioned, I'll agree, all right!" ventured Anne, the gleam
of adventure shining in her eyes.
"I'm the only molly-coddle in the crowd and I'd like to see more of
this mountain, myself," laughed Barbara.
"'Nuff said,' when Barbara talks like that!" laughed Eleanor.
So they continued along the crest of the mountain from which grand
views of distant peaks and vast forest-sides could be seen. The
brilliant hues of wild flowers, everywhere, mottled the ground; the
dark-green of towering pines, or again the shorter aspens like pickets
on guard in the foreground; the bleached skeletons of lodge-pole pine
burnt clean in forest fires; and just before the riders, the plunging
water falling from a cliff that shut out any glimpse of the trail
ahead, combined to produce a master-piece of Nature's work.
"Why not camp at those Falls for dinner?" asked Eleanor.
"Good idea--I'm half-starved," admitted Anne.
"And maybe the horses can rest, too," from Barbara.
"Bob's going to join the S.P.C.A. soon," laughed Eleanor.
"No, I'm not, but horses will last longer if you feed and rest them,
and I do not care to walk home!" retorted Barbara.
"I brought my fishing tackle, girls, and while you are unpacking dinner
I may as well cast for a few trout in that stream," suggested Polly.


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