The place was
charming in its surroundings and in its graces of life, but it was a
cheerful, happy, out-at-the-heels, raggedy little town, whose bright
gardens adorned its abyssmal streets, whose beautiful mountains
palliated the naivete of its natural and atrocious roads. Bob mingled
with its people with the pardonable amusement of a man fresh from the
doing of big things. There seemed to be such long, grave and futile
discussions over the undertaking of that which a more energetic
community would do as a matter of course in the day's work. The
liveryman from whom Bob hired his saddle horse proved to be a person of
a leisurely and sardonic humour.
"Their chief asset here is tourists," said he. "That's the leading
industry. They can't see it, and they don't want to. They have just one
road through the county. It's a bum one. You'd think it was a dozen, to
hear them talk about the immense undertaking of making it halfway
decent. Any other place would do these things they've been talking about
for ten years just on the side, as part of the get-ready. Lucky they
didn't have to do anything in the way of getting those mountains set
proper, or there'd be a hole there yet.
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