Perhaps their
keenness penetrated to the fact that he was absolutely without guile,
and that his kindness was an essential part of himself. I should be
curious to know whether Billy Knapp of the Black Hills would surrender
his gun to Dick for inspection.
"I want you to go out this afternoon to see some friends of mine," said
Dick. "They're on a farm about two miles back in the brush. They're
ancestors."
"They're what?" I inquired.
"Ancestors. You can go down to Grosse Point near Detroit, and find
people living in beautiful country places next the water, and after
dinner they'll show you an old silhouette or a daguerreotype or
something like that, and will say to you proudly, 'This is old Jules,
my ancestor, who was a pioneer in this country. The Place has been in
the family ever since his time.'"
"Well?"
"Well, this is a French family, and they are pioneers, and the family
has a place that slopes down to the water through white birch trees,
and it is of the kind very tenacious of its own land. In two hundred
years this will be a great resort; bound to be--beautiful, salubrious,
good sport, fine scenery, accessible--"
"Railroad fifty miles away; boat every once in a while," said I
sarcastically.
"Accessible in two hundred years, all right," insisted Dick serenely.
"Even Canada can build a quarter of a mile of railway a year.
Accessible," he went on; "good shipping-point for country now
undeveloped.
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