The new sun burst upon them as they topped a grassy hill.
The dew-bespangled blades scintillated beneath the gorgeous
rays which would presently sweep them away again into the
nothingness from which they had sprung.
Bridge halted and stretched himself. He threw his head back
and let the warm sun beat down upon his bronzed face.
There's sunshine in the heart of me,
My blood sings in the breeze;
The mountains are a part of me,
I'm fellow to the trees.
My golden youth I'm squandering,
Sun-libertine am I,
A-wandering, a-wandering,
Until the day I die.
And then he stood for minutes drinking in deep breaths of
the pure, sweet air of the new day. Beside him, a head taller,
savagely strong, stood Billy Byrne, his broad shoulders
squared, his great chest expanding as he inhaled.
"It's great, ain't it?" he said, at last. "I never knew the
country was like this, an' I don't know that I ever would have
known it if it hadn't been for those poet guys you're always
spouting.
"I always had an idea they was sissy fellows," he went on;
"but a guy can't be a sissy an' think the thoughts they musta
thought to write stuff that sends the blood chasin' through a
feller like he'd had a drink on an empty stomach.
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