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Everyleafandbudandbladeseemedtocontributeitsexhalationtothepervadingsweetnessinwhichthepungencyofpine-sapprevailedoverthespiceofthymeandthesubtleperfumeoffern,andallweremergedinamoistearth-smellthatwaslikethebreathofsomehugesun-warmedanimal.
Charityhadlaintherealongtime,passiveandsun-warmedastheslopeonwhichshelay,whentherecamebetweenhereyesandthedancingbutterflythesightofaman’sfootinalargewornbootcoveredwithredmud.
“Oh,don’t!”sheexclaimed,raisingherselfonherelbowandstretchingoutawarninghand.
“Don’twhat?”ahoarsevoiceaskedaboveherhead.
“Don’tstamponthosebrambleflowers,youdolt!”sheretorted,springingtoherknees.Thefootpausedandthendescendedclumsilyonthefrailbranch,andraisinghereyesshesawaboveherthebewilderedfaceofaslouchingmanwithathinsunburntbeard,andwhitearmsshowingthroughhisraggedshirt.
“Don’tyoueverSEEanything,LiffHyatt?”sheassailedhim,ashestoodbeforeherwiththelookofamanwhohasstirredupawasp’snest.
Hegrinned.“Iseenyou!That’swhatIcomedownfor.”
“Downfromwhere?”shequestioned,stoopingtogatherupthepetalshisfoothadscattered.
Hejerkedhisthumbtowardtheheights.“BeencuttingdowntreesforDanTargatt.”
Charitysankbackonherheelsandlookedathimmusingly.ShewasnotintheleastafraidofpoorLiffHyatt,thoughhe“camefromtheMountain,”andsomeofthegirlsranwhentheysawhim.
