The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 231: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

————_— . = oe "That's a cholla," she announced. "Another variety of cactus. There are seventeen thousand in all." "All right,” Eden replied. "I'll take your word for it. You needn't name them." His head was beginning to ache with all this learning. Presently sumac and Canterbury bell proclaimed their nearness to the canyon, and they cantered out of the desert heat into the cathedral-like coolness of the hills. In and out over almost hidden trails the horses went. Wild plum glowed on the slopes, and far below under native palms a narrow stream tinkled invitingly. Life seemed very simple and pleasant there in Lonely Canyon, and Bob Eden felt suddenly close indeed to this lively girl with the eager eyes. All a lie that there were crowded cities. The world was new, unsullied and unspoiled, and they were alone in it. They descended by way of a rather treacherous path and in the shelter of the palms that fringed the tiny stream, dismounted for a lunch which Paula Wendell claimed to have concealed in her knapsack. "Wonderfully restful here," Bob Eden said. "But you said the other day you weren't tired," the girl reminded him. "Well, I'm not. But somehow I like this anyhow. However, I guess it isn't all a matter of geography. It's not so much the place you're in—it's who you're with. 231 comiicboeoe S CO