They followed the Old Santa Fé Trail for hours, then, being hungry, they chose the camp-site for this their first meal out in the open that season. Julie stood and gazed at the imposing peaks before her.
“Well, Gilly, I really wouldn’t have known we were out of Colorado, or away from the peaks north of Estes Park. ‘They all look alike to me.’” Julie sang the last words to the rag-time song.
“You won’t say that when you go farther south in New Mexico or Arizona,” said Mr. Gilroy.
“It can’t be said that we are over the border of the state-line yet,” added Mr. Vernon. “I may be in New Mexico and you in Colorado. Perhaps that is why you can’t see the difference in the scenery.” Shortly after the amateur mountaineers had prepared to cook the dinner they saw, to their surprise, a Forest Ranger coming over the trail in the direction of their camp.
“Good-day, friends,” was the pleasant greeting from the tall young man in government uniform.
“Good-morning, sir,” responded Mr. Gilroy, acting as speaker for the group. “I trust we are not breaking the law by camping here?”
“Oh, no! I am on my way up the old trail, but I saw you selecting a site, and I thought I’d be neighborly and tell you where to hook a few good fish for dinner.”
“Now that’s mighty good of you! And in return for your favor maybe you’ll stop and sup with us,” was Mr. Gilroy’s hearty response.
“I’d like to right well, but I am taking a vacation which is granted me for the purpose of attending to an important investigation for the Government. It is no secret, therefore I have no hesitation in telling you that it concerns the future of our Pueblo Indians. I am to meet a man at Springer who wishes me to give him valuable information which I am fortunate to have from personal acquaintance with the different pueblos in New Mexico,” explained the young man frankly.
“How very interesting it would be to have your company with us on this ride to Springer, for that is the very place we plan to make before taking the train again,” said Mr. Vernon.