They visited the reservoir, which looked to Bob uncommonly like a muddy
duck pond, but whose value Selwyn soon made very clear. They wandered
through the Chiquito ranch, whence came the exhibition fruit and other
products, and which formed the basis of most Lucky arguments. The owner
had taken many medals for his fruit, and had spent twenty-five years in
making the Chiquito a model.
"Any man can do likewise in this land of promise," said Selwyn.
They ended finally in a beautiful little canon among the foothills. It
was grown thick with twisted, mottled sycamores just budding into leaf,
with vines and greenery of the luxurious California varieties. Birds
sang everywhere and a brook babbled and bubbled down a stony bed.
Under the largest of the sycamores a tent had been pitched and a table
spread. Affairs seemed to be in charge of a very competent countrywoman
whose fuzzy horse and ramshackle buggy stood securely tethered below.
The surries drove up and deposited their burdens. Bob took his place at
table to be served with an abundant, hot and well-cooked meal.
The ice had been broken.
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