She also found that the close air above her head
was continually freshened by the interchange of currents of lower
temperature from below,--as if the whole vast field had a circulation of
its own,--and that the adobe beneath her feet was gratefully cool to
her tread. There was no dust, as he had said; what had at first half
suffocated her seemed to be some stimulating aroma of creation that
filled the narrow green aisles, and now imparted a strange vigor and
excitement to her as she walked along. Meantime her guide was not
conversationally idle. Now, no doubt, she had never seen anything like
this before? It was ordinary wheat, only it was grown on adobe soil--the
richest in the valley. These stalks, she could see herself, were ten and
twelve feet high. That was the trouble, they all ran too much to stalk,
though the grain yield was "suthen' pow'ful." She could tell that to
her friends, for he reckoned she was the only young lady that had ever
walked under such a growth. Perhaps she was new to Californy? He thought
so from the start.
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