a's, shadowed by the wide brim of her
hat, her eyelids drooped, slowly, reluctantly, as though they fell against
her will, while the color came and went under her clear skin in a fashion
which filled him with delighted wonder.

It may be said that there are few things in life so absorbing as catching
grasshoppers. While Ralston previously had recognized this fact, he never
had supposed that it contained any element of pleasure akin to the
delights of Paradise. To chase grasshoppers by oneself is one thing; to
pursue them in the company of a fascinating schoolmarm is another; and
when one has in his mind the thought that ultimately he and the schoolmarm
may chance to fall upon the same grasshopper, the chase becomes a sport
for the gods to envy.

Anent grasshoppers. While the first grasshopper of early spring has not
the devilish agility of his August descendant, he is sufficiently alert to
make his capture no mean feat. It must be borne in mind that the
grasshopper is not a fool, and that he appears to see best from the rear.
Though he remains motionless while the enemy is slipping stealthily upon
him, it by no means follows that he is not aware of said enemy's approach.
The grasshopper has a more highly developed sense of humor than any other
known insect. It is an established fact that after a person has fallen
upon his face and clawed at the earth where the grasshopper was but is
not, the grasshopper will be seen distinctly to laugh from his coign of
vantage beyond reach.

Furthermore, it is quite impossible to fathom the mind of the grasshopper,
his intentions or habits; particularly those of the small, gray-pink
variety. He is as erratic in his flight as a clay pigeon, though it is
tolerably safe to assume that he will not jump backward. He may not jump
at all, but, with a deceptive movement, merely sidle under a sage-leaf.
Where questions concerning his personal safety are concerned, he shows
rare judgment, appearing to recognize exactly the psychological moment in
which to fly, jump, or sit still.

No sluggard, be it known, can hope to catch grasshoppers with any degree
of success. It requires an individual nimble of mind and body, whose
nerves are keyed to a tension, who is dominated by a mood which refuses to
recognize the perils of snakes, cactus, and prairie-dog holes; forgetful
of self and dignity, inured to ridicule. Such a one is justified in making
the attempt.

The large, brownish-black, grandfather