“I must read it myself before I can judge,” Angela smiled, surprised at the suggestion from one who never put himself forward; who had never begged for concession or favour since offering himself as “trail guide.”  “Now don’t speak to me for a while.  I want to call the whole day back.”

But though his lips were closed his eyes were not; and they seldom wandered from the bent head—­gold against a dark tree-trunk; and the cameo profile—­ivory-white upon a red-brown background.

Angela was sitting under the generous shade of the Grizzly Giant.  Nick lay resting on his elbow, just near enough to touch with his shoulder the soles of her small, dusty shoes, crossed one over the other.

After all, it was not as easy to write as Angela had expected, with Nick lying silent, and so close to her that it seemed, if she should listen, she might hear his thoughts, like the ticking of a watch under a pillow.

She began by noting down commonplace things, as though by way of sorting out her impressions.

“We left Kate this morning at Wawona.  What dear people keep that hotel!  In Europe one never thinks about hotel-keepers.  If everything is right, one simply takes them for granted, as one breathes good air.  It’s different here in the West of America.  They—­these charming, kind people—­lent us their own ’buckboard’—­a glorified one; and their two horses, Cash and Credit, who are famous.  Darling animals they are, and understand every word that’s said to them.  When they die, generations of California horses ought to be named Cash and Credit to preserve their memory.

“We started early, just after the morning had been born, so as to miss nothing.  And first of all we had a quick rush through the flowery valley of Wawona—­a kind of prelude to the music of the great redwoods.  And I think it helped me to appreciate and understand them.  We saw Stellar Lake, named by inspiration, for it looks a blue sky half full of stars; and I had my first sight of a fish hatchery.  I’d no notion it could be so exciting to watch the career of trout from the egg stage up to rainbow maturity.  Never shall I forget grabbing a handful of tiny wriggling fish out of the trough of water where they lived, and holding them in the hollow of my palm for an instant!  They looked like big silver commas, and interrogation points, oh, but punctuations of all kinds; and they felt like iced popcorn.  I don’t think I shall ever eat trout again.  It would be so treacherous, now that I seem to have known the creatures from the cradle to the grave.

“But about the Big Trees, which at this present moment are to me the most important things on earth.  I’ve seen a good deal of the earth, but nothing so good, nothing so glorious.  No wonder Mr. Hilliard says, ’Why need people build churches in this part of the world, when they have the redwood cathedral built by God, full of the sound of His organ music?’