Читать книгу Will Somers, the Boy Detective онлайн

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“She is down there in the wood,” said the servant.

Breaking into a gay ditty, Will hastened off toward the piece of woodland indicated by the woman.

The ground sloped downward from the back of the house into a wide depression that led off toward the Schuylkill. This was occupied by a piece of fine woodland, the trees growing straight and tall, while the undergrowth had been mostly removed, leaving long, green vistas.

The country was now arrayed in all its June-tide beauty, while flowers lent a rich charm to the fields, and the fresh green of spring arrayed every tree.

The old vagabond instinct rose in him as he sauntered on, now chasing a gorgeous butterfly, now following the flight of some swift bird, now stopping to listen to a trill of woodland music, now taking a wild roll in the grass.

His cap was soon adorned with daisies and buttercups; violets peeped from his button-holes, and he gathered a bouquet of yellow dandelions as if he thought them choice flowers.

“If this ain’t gay I don’t know beans!” he cried, exultingly. “Wouldn’t I like to live out here! Bet I’d go a-fishin’ every day, and a-swimmin’ every other. I’ll go a hoss there ain’t a tree in that woods I can’t climb. Got a notion to shin up some of them just for fun.”