One cannot appreciate the enjoyment to be had from this method of locomotion without trying it.
And always when Ma came back to earth and opened her eyes there were the great smiling mountains, the clear, clean waters foaming over the rocks, and underfoot was the cool, green grass, not that hot, hard 'dobe clay she had always known.

Trees, too! Beautiful whispering trees, with smooth leaves instead of burrs and spines and stickers.

Nor was there the faintest choking smell of dust; no sand blowing up her nose and smarting her eyes.
Ma Briskow had never dreamed that the world was so clean.

She blessed God for making oil to lie in the rocks of the earth, and she prayed that none of "them hotel people" would discover her retreat.
But, of course, somebody did discover it.

Mr.Delamater, the dancing instructor, for one, stumbled upon it while Ma Briskow was in the midst of one of her imaginary games, and he reported his discovery to the day clerk.
"What ails that old dame, anyhow ?" he inquired, after recounting Ma's peculiar behavior.
"Not a thing in the world except money," the clerk declared.
Doubtfully Mr.Delamater shook his handsome auburn head.