“Hippy must have been studying a new guide book,” observed Anne mischievously.
“He has not painted the picture a stroke too gorgeously,” averred Grace. “This truly is a glimpse right into fairyland.”
Hippy Wingate’s chest swelled with pride.
CHAPTER XVII
GOING TO BED IN THE CLOUDS
THE Overland Riders did not turn from the scene until the “sapphire rocks,” described in Lieutenant Wingate’s colorful oratory, had turned a dull gray as the sun moved over behind the mountains to the west.
“Forward for a quick gallop to the camping site!” called Grace, who led the way alone. “Column of two’s!”
In this formation they presented a spirited appearance.
Ike Fairweather heard them pounding along the trail, and stepped out to watch the troop come on. They swept down on him in a cloud of dust, and in answer to an enthusiastic wave of his sombrero, Grace spun her own sombrero as high in the air as she could hurl it, drove her pony forward to meet it, and deftly caught it as it came spinning back.
“Whoo—oo—oope!” shouted Ike.