Beyond were the pines, and a rugged
road, flint-edged, full of dips and rises, turns and twists, hovering
on edges, or bosoming itself in deep rock-strewn cuts. Mary's little
pony cantered recklessly through it all, scampering along like a
playful dog after a stone, leading Bennington's larger animal by
several feet. He had full leisure to notice the regular flop of the Tam
o'Shanter over the lighter dance of the hair, the increasing rosiness
of the cheeks dimpled into almost continual laughter, to catch stray
snatches of gay little remarks thrown out at random as they tore along.
After a time they drew out from the shadow of the pines into the
clearing at Rockerville, where the hydraulic "giants" had eaten away
the hill-sides, and left in them ugly unhealed sores. Then more rough
pine-shadowed roads, from which occasionally would open for a moment
broad vistas of endless glades, clear as parks, breathless descents, or
sharp steep cuts at the bottom of which Spring Creek, or as much of it
as was not turned into the Rockerville sluices, brawled or idled along.
It was time for lunch, so they dismounted near a deep still pool and
ate.
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