“Oh, Gilly! do talk sensibly,” cried Julie, impatiently.
“How is that possible, Jule?” demanded Mr. Vernon.
They all laughed, then Mr. Gilroy threatened: “Just for that I’ll wear the cap and have strangers wonder what sort of a menagerie I am conducting across the state.”
A talk with the manager, however, revealed a way in which a day’s time might be saved.
“I can send you on by motor to St. Michael’s Mission, where you can stay over night and put in a much pleasanter day than in prosaic Gallup. But, by taking my advice, you will deprive me of some very desirable guests,” said the smiling manager.
“You are sure we can find accommodations for so large a party after we reach St Michael’s?” asked Mrs. Vernon.
“Oh, yes! You will find ‘open house’ at any of the white folks’ ranches, as well as at the convent school, which is a massive building of stone and brick, equal to any in our large cities. In fact, Mr. Gilroy, I doubt if you will want to leave the Mission in a day’s time—there will be so much to interest you all.”
“We’ve already decided, Gilly! We say accept Mr. Walters’ advice and the autos, and let us start the first thing to-morrow morning,” declared Mrs. Vernon.
“Tally ought to be in by then, and I can explain to him about our going on in advance,” agreed Mr. Gilroy. “If only there was some way to move those burros over that 150 miles as quickly as a horse can make it—especially a group of rested horses that will have no riders.”
“Why, I can suggest a way,” ventured Mr. Walters.