nine o’clock
` One to make ready , and two to prepare . ' IT was nine o'clock one sunny California morning , and Geoffrey Strong stood under the live-oak trees in Las Flores Cañon , with a pot of black paint in one hand and a huge brush in the other . He could have handled these implements to better purpose and with better grace had not his arms been firmly held by three laughing girls , who pulled not wisely , but too well . He was further incommoded by the presence of a small urchin who lay on the dusty ground beneath his feet , fastening an upward clutch on the legs of his trousers . There were three large canvas tents directly in front of them , yet no one of these seemed to be the object of dissension , but rather a redwood board , some three feet in length , which was nailed on a tree near by .