Did he have the thousandth part of an idea that he was going to
put a bullet into a man's body? I don't think he had! Returning soon
with the pistols, we started on our way.
It would be worth a thousand dollars now if we had a picture of that
party on their tramp. As I remember it, there were some four of us who
were of the "young group" and had not quite attained our legal
majority.
"The Admiral" and "the Hero," with "Glover," made the older portion of
the party, and as we strayed along with our clear, sun-browned, young
faces, our classic locks and natural beards--those who had any--with
our unique tunics or blouses, with a certain regular quaintness running
through them, were picturesque enough. The idea of arming ourselves,
suggested by Glover's pistols, soon developed into the improvising of
canes and walking sticks from the wayside.
"Glover" paired off with the curly headed Hero, I with the curly headed
Admiral, for Glover loved the Hero, and I admired the Admiral's honest,
sincere, pleasant ways and heart. The city life we all had tasted, had
given new zest to country life. We straggled by the roadside; we sought
wild berries; we observed the varieties of foliage and flower, and
conversation never flagged.
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