At first Kenneth's mind held only a feeling of disgust that such a
desecration of Nature's gifts to humanity should be allowed. Then he
remembered another place further along the glen which was almost as
pretty as this had been before the defiling brush of the advertiser had
ruined it. So he spurred his horse and rode up the winding way to the
spot. There a red-lettered announcement of "Simpson's Soap" stared him
in the face.
This was too much for his temper, and his disappointment quickly turned
to resentment. While he sat on his mare, considering the matter, the man
with the lame horse, whom he had passed, overtook him.
"Can you tell me," Kenneth asked, "who owns this property?"
"Why, I do," replied the man, reining up.
"And you permitted these vile signs to be painted on the rocks?"
demanded the boy angrily.
"O' course," replied the man, with a grin of amusement. "I can't farm
the rocks, can I? An' these 'ere signs pays me ten dollars a year,
each."
Kenneth groaned.
"I'll give you fifteen dollars a year each if you'll let me wash off the
letters and restore the scene to its original beauty," he declared.
"I'm willin'," was the response. "But ye see they're contracted. I'd git
into trouble with the sign-painter.
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