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Ralphson, G. Harvey (George Harvey), 1879-1940

"The Boy Scout Camera Club, or, the Confession of a Photograph"

"He's just about shaken the life out of me now.
Doesn't look it, does he?"
"Better call him Bones!" Jimmie advised. "As I was saying," he went
on, "the ridge ahead of us drops down this side of the Virginia line,
and we can dodge a climb by going around it."
"And get lost!" Jack grumbled.
"Lost--not. We follow down this valley--or up this valley, rather--
until the ridge drops down. Then we go straight east until we come to
the South Branch. And there you are."
"Here we go, then!" Jack shouted. "Set your sails and come along."
Uncle Ike wanted a test of speed and endurance right there, but
Jimmie held him back. It might be that they would be obliged to
return to the camp that night.
They soon left the high places and wound among foothills. Below lay a
fertile valley, with handsome and well-tilled fields.
"We're making a hit with these mules!" laughed Jimmie, as they passed
along, the people staring at them from gates, doors, windows and
fence-tops. "If these ladies and gentlemen ever see us again they'll
be sure to know us."
It is not a great distance from the place where they came to the
river to the city they sought, and the ground was covered in a couple
of hours. The sun was still shining when they passed through a busy
street, certainly the center of observation.


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