Aaron King, looking at the girl, recalled that day when he and Conrad
Lagrange, in a spirit of venturesome fun, had left the choice of trails to
the burro. "Good, old Croesus!" he said smiling.
She knew the story of how they had been guided to their camping place, and
laughed in return, as she answered, "He's a dear old burro, is Croesus,
and worthy of a better name."
"Plutus would be better," suggested the artist.
"Because a Greek God is better than a Lydian King?" she asked curiously.
"Wasn't Plutus the giver of wealth?" he returned.
"Yes."
"Well, and wasn't he forced by Zeus to distribute his gifts without regard
to the characters of the recipients?"
She laughed merrily. "Plutus or Croesus--I'm glad he chose the Oak Knoll
trail."
"And so am I," answered the man, earnestly.
Leisurely, they followed the trail that is hung--narrow thread-like
path--high upon the mountain wall, invisible from the floor of the canyon
below. At a point where the trail turns to round the inward curve of one
of the small side canyons--where the pines grow dark and tall--some
thoughtful hand had laid a small pipe from the large conduit tunnel, under
the trail, to a barrel fixed on the mountainside below the little path.
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