“How glorious is life up here,” exclaimed Mrs. Vernon, inhaling a deep breath.
“I should say so!” agreed Mr. Vernon, fervently.
“No wonder you Forest Rangers are such fine chaps. Who could be sickly or small when living on heights so near to God,” declared Mr. Gilroy, and Sanderson flushed at such praise.
As they began to climb to the crest of Raton, the birds were flashing back and forth overhead, industriously seeking dinner for their young. The fragrant verdure, the slanting sunbeams as they seemed to search through the crannies of cliffs and chasms, the sudden flash of a wild thing scuttling away from the trail, all served to exhilarate the riders.
“This is a mighty good trail,” remarked Mr. Vernon.
“This is the best and greatest trail known,” remarked the Ranger. “Wait till we gain the crest— I’ll say no more.”
“Mr. Sanderson, we heard last summer that a trail once made by human feet will forever keep its peculiarity so that it never becomes completely overgrown again. On the other hand, it is said that the trails worn by forest creatures will, after being abandoned, become obliterated by growth of young trees and brush,” said Julie.
“That’s what people say, but I can hardly believe it,” returned Sanderson. “If you were a Forest Ranger and had to build the roads we do, you would forget all about these other kind of trails. We Rangers have to clear away all obstructions in making a trail, and build the road in such a way that it will be permanent. Then we have to see that these trails are kept clear of rubbish and undergrowth.”
They came to a belt of forest where the light seemed to take on a greenish tinge from the thick, interlaced branches overhead. After riding through this for a time, the sound of rushing, falling waters could be heard.
“Let’s find it!” exclaimed Julie, eagerly.