This was in no way a displeasing suggestion and in a very short while Julie and Jane in one room and Meg in the other were deep in slumber. Gerald was also advised to rest, but he declared that he would rather stay awake and see what was going to happen. Dan laughed as he said that Gerald seemed always to believe that an adventure might begin at any moment.
“What boy does not?” Mr. Packard smiled understandingly down at the stocky little fellow whose clear blue eyes and freckled face beamed good nature. Then, quite as though he could read the small boy’s thought, the man exclaimed: “Gerald, you ought to wear my grandson’s cowboy outfit. He’d be glad to loan it to you.” That this suggestion met with the youngster’s entire approval was quite evident by the wild dance which he executed then and there.
Jean led the little fellow away and before long Gerald reappeared, clothed in a costume of the most approved style, a fringed buckskin suit, a red bandana handkerchief loosely knotted about his neck, while in one hand he held a wide felt hat on which to his great joy a dried rattlesnake skin served as band. His own small gun was never out of his possession.
“Great!” Dan said with brotherly pride. “I wish our dad and dear old grandmother might see you now, Gerry. You do indeed look ready to start on an adventure.”
“Where’ll we go to look for it?” The small boy gazed eagerly, hopefully up at their genial host.
“Well, sonny, what kind of an adventure would you prefer?” the amused man asked as though he were willing, at least, to attempt to provide whatever adventure his small guest might desire.
“I’d like an Indian raid best, or a hold-up.” The boy was thinking of the most exciting things he could recall in his set of Wild-West books, but Mr. Packard shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, sonny, but the Utes are a friendly tribe: peaceable, anyway, and they are no longer our near neighbors. They have moved their camp deeper into the mountains. And, as for hold-ups, since we are neither on a stage or a train we cannot provide that, but if you boys are not too weary I am going to suggest that you ride with me to the old stage road. I’ve been losing some calves lately and Jean believes that they might have been driven into an abandoned corral over in the foothills at night, and later were spirited away.” He hesitated. “It’s a hard ride, though. Perhaps you boys would rather not undertake it until tomorrow.”
But they were glad to go, and Gerald would not agree to being left behind. He was given a small horse that was gentle and used to boys, as the grandson had claimed it as his own, and so they rode away, having left word for the girls that they would return as soon as possible.
In the mid-morning they reached the old abandoned stage road. “No one uses it now, that is, for legitimate purposes, as it is very dangerous. There are washouts and cutways that make it almost impassable for stage or for auto travel.” Then, pointing to the place where the road circled a high hill, Mr. Packard concluded: “Jean, can you see where yesterday’s cloudburst washed out the road? It has started a new canon that will have to be bridged, for now and then a tenderfoot autoist does get started on that old road, thinking that it leads to Redfords. Time and again we have put up signs on the main highway, but they are hurled down in the storms, I suppose.”
Dan had been intently tracing the old road until it was lost from sight. Suddenly he urged his horse forward to Mr. Packard’s side. “May I take the field glasses? I feel sure that I see a dark object moving along that old road and coming this way. You look first, though. Your eyes are better trained to these distances than mine.” Mr. Packard gazed long, then he turned to Jean. “Boy,” he said, “it looks like an auto moving slowly this way. If it ever starts on that down grade toward the washout there is going to be a tragedy.”