Bags in hand the group was moving to the rear of the station, and now came in sight of a ramshackle automobile with a Mexican at the wheel, easily distinguished by his swarthy coloring and his ragged mustaches, as well as by his peculiar dress—a steep crowned hat like a sugar loaf, with a very wide brim, a tight bolero jacket that did not reach to the waist and disclosed a dark blue silken shirt beneath and tight-fitting trousers that flared at the bottom.
"That is Remedios and his flivver," explained Jack. "He does odd jobs all through this region. I hired him to take us out to camp. But before we climb aboard, take a look at this view."
Obediently, they paused and gazed at the surrounding country. In the foreground was a wide dirt street at the rear of the station. For the equivalent of the length of a city block it was lined on both sides with wooden structures one-story in height, but with the false fronts of the frontier country pretending to second stories—a front wall sticking above the roof and with the semblance of windows painted on it. A dry goods store, a Chinese laundry, an alleged hotel, several restaurants, several ex-saloons still carrying on some kind of business—these comprised the lot. At one end the street ran abruptly into the desert. At the other was a cluster of old freight cars made into dwellings, with Mexican men, women and children loitering in front in the sun. This was Ransome.
"Not much of a town," said Jack, "just a trading post for a wide stretch of this country around here. But look at the setting, will you?" And he swept a hand in a wide gesture indicating the horizon.
On every hand stretched the desert, broken by clumps of mesquite and cactus with the only trees in the landscape the thick belt of cottonwoods lining the banks of a stream that rose in the mountains to the north and ran by the town. North, east, south and west lofty mountains gleamed on the far horizon, while closer at hand rose the foothills. These latter were of fantastic shapes, like castles, tables or crouching animals, and of the most vivid coloring. Over all was the warm and brilliant sunshine of late afternoon. As for the air, it was clean and despite the warmth of the day already beginning to turn cool as the sun hovered on the rim of the farthest mountains to the west.
"Some country," said Bob emphatically.
"Wait until you have known it day in and day out for months," said Jack. "You will never want to go back to Long Island."
"Is that the way you feel about it, Jack?" asked Frank.
"Oh, well, I suppose I'll want to go home sometime," said Jack. "But just the same, I'm in love with this country. As for the old-timers off there in the hills, you couldn't drive them away."
"Say, Jack," said Frank, as they all continued standing and gazing at the surrounding scene, "I thought we'd see some oil derricks around here. But there isn't one in sight."