I would have Tim
stay here with me, but he says no. He wants to win a marble mausoleum.
I shall be content to lie beneath a tree. Tim is ambitious.
Just a few nights ago, we sat smoking in the evening, warming our
hearts at the great hearth-stone. Thunder Knob was all aglow, and the
cloud coals were piled heaven-high above it, burning gold and red.
Down in the meadow Captain and Colonel raced from shock to shock on the
trail of a rabbit, and a flock of sheep, barnward bound, came bleating
along the road.
[Illustration: When we three sit by the fire.]
Tim began to suppose. He was supposing me a great lawyer and himself a
great merchant and all that. I lost all patience with him.
Suppose it all, Tim, I said. Suppose that you, the great tea-king, and
I, the statesman, sat here smoking. Would the cloud coals over there
on Thunder Knob blaze up higher in our honor? And the quail, perched
on the fence-stake, would she address herself to us or to Mr. Robert
White down in the meadow? Would the night-hawk, circling in the
clouds, strike one note to our glory? Could the bleating of the sheep
swing in sweeter to the music of the valley as she is rocked to sleep?
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY***
******* This file should be named 17156.
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