the open. I am a second Moses and you are going to be my burning
bush. I intended to read this article to you."

Peter massed the sheets, straightened them on the desk, and
deliberately ripped them across several times. Linda sprang to
her feet and stretched out her hands.

"Why, Peter!" she cried in a shocked voice. "That is perfectly
inexcusable. There are hours and hours of work on that, and I
have not a doubt but that it was good work."

"Simple case of mechanism," said Peter, reducing the bits to
smaller size and dropping them into the empty nail keg that
served as his wastebasket. "A lifeless thing without a soul,
mere clockwork. I have got the idea now. I am to build a bridge
and make a road. Every way I look I can see a golden-flame
tongue of inspiration burning. I'll rewrite that thing and
animate it. Take me for a ride, Linda."

Linda rose and walked to the Bear Cat. Peter climbed in and sat
beside her. Linda laid her hands on the steering wheel and
started the car. She ran it down to the highway and chose a
level road leading straight down the valley through cultivated
country. In all the world there was nothing to equal the
panorama that she spread before Peter that evening. She drove
the Bear Cat past orchards, hundreds of acres of orchards of
waxen green leaves and waxen white bloom of orange, grapefruit,
and lemon. She took him where seas of pink outlined peach
orchards, and other seas the more delicate tint of the apricots.
She glided down avenues lined with palm and eucalyptus, pepper