Етюд у багряних тонах
On the great Alkali Plain.
“Whydidn’tyousaysobefore?”shesaid,laughinggleefully. “Yougavemesuchafright. Why,ofcourse,nowaslongaswediewe’llbewithmotheragain.”
“Yes,youwill,dearie.”
“Andyoutoo. I’lltellherhowawfulgoodyou’vebeen. I’llbetshemeetsusatthedoorofHeavenwithabigpitcherofwater,andalotofbuckwheatcakes,hot,andtoastedonbothsides,likeBobandmewasfondof. Howlongwillitbefirst?”
“Idon’tknow—notverylong.” Theman’seyeswerefixeduponthenorthernhorizon.Inthebluevaultoftheheaventherehadappearedthreelittlespeckswhichincreasedinsizeeverymoment,sorapidlydidtheyapproach. Theyspeedilyresolvedthemselvesintothreelargebrownbirds,whichcircledovertheheadsofthetwowanderers,andthensettleduponsomerockswhichoverlookedthem. Theywerebuzzards,thevulturesofthewest,whosecomingistheforerunnerofdeath.
“Cocksandhens,”criedthelittlegirlgleefully,pointingattheirill-omenedforms,andclappingherhandstomakethemrise. “Say,didGodmakethiscountry?”
“IncourseHedid,”saidhercompanion,ratherstartledbythisunexpectedquestion.
“HemadethecountrydowninIllinois,andHemadetheMissouri,”thelittlegirlcontinued. “Iguesssomebodyelsemadethecountryintheseparts.It’snotnearlysowelldone.Theyforgotthewaterandthetrees.”
“Whatwouldyethinkofofferingupprayer?”themanaskeddiffidently.
“Itain’tnightyet,”sheanswered.
