"How could they have got that far in this time? It can't be the
same ones," I urged. But through the glasses we could identify
our pretty tree-climbers quite plainly, at least by costume.

Terry watched them, we all did for that matter, till they
disappeared among the houses. Then he put down his glass and
turned to us, drawing a long breath. "Mother of Mike, boys--what
Gorgeous Girls! To climb like that! to run like that! and afraid
of nothing. This country suits me all right. Let's get ahead."

"Nothing venture, nothing have," I suggested, but Terry preferred
"Faint heart ne'er won fair lady."

We set forth in the open, walking briskly. "If there are any men,
we'd better keep an eye out," I suggested, but Jeff seemed lost in
heavenly dreams, and Terry in highly practical plans.

"What a perfect road! What a heavenly country! See the flowers,
will you?"

This was Jeff, always an enthusiast; but we could agree with
him fully.

The road was some sort of hard manufactured stuff, sloped
slightly to shed rain, with every curve and grade and gutter as
perfect as if it were Europe's best. "No men, eh?" sneered Terry.
On either side a double row of trees shaded the footpaths; between
the trees bushes or vines, all fruit-bearing, now and then seats
and little wayside fountains; everywhere flowers.