It was Sanderson who made the Old Trail seem to pulse once more with the life of other days, in which the stage-coach and the great caravans coming from Kansas City and Denver to Santa Fé had to travel by this great Sky-line. The girls saw the Indians and the outlaws of those pioneer days, as they attacked the whites, or raided a traders’ caravan. But it was through the Ranger’s eyes of the imagination that they saw these vivid pictures.
He pointed out the El Capulin volcano, which was a short ride from Raton City, but not to be included in the sight-seeing now. He tried to induce the tourists to ride to Taos by the ancient trail that ran direct from Raton, but the scouts preferred to go to the Pecos ruins and cañon first, then up to the pueblo of Taos later. It was Sanderson who, from the crest of Raton, pointed out the wonderful view of the Spanish Peaks, the Taos Range and the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. He directed their gaze to Fisher’s Peak and told how it had been named for the officer in the Army of the West; how Simpson’s Rest was a monument of nature’s work in honor of the old pioneer who was buried on its summit. He pointed to the great bluffs across the Las Animas River where, in 1866, the Ute Indians fought the settlers. Then he told them how the river came to have its name. Sanderson spoke Spanish fluently and he interpreted the meaning of the old name into English for the girls: “River of Lost Souls”—in memory of the Spaniards who in the eighteenth century lost their lives in the crossing of the river.
It was not to be wondered at, therefore, that the scouts were intensely thankful that they had met such a delightful young man to trail with them, and they each and every one hoped that no untoward act from any source whatever could ruin this splendid opportunity to enjoy his company.
Not one of the girls felt jealous of Julie and the “lion’s share” of attention which Sanderson paid her, but every girl in the group tried to show the Ranger that she, too, was alive and eager to have his smiles and expressive glances, when he found it possible to take them from Julie and share them meagerly with others.
While Sandy enjoyed Julie’s companionship, he remembered the Government had first claim on his time. His duty was to interpret for and to guide the man he was to meet at Springer or Las Vegas, and secure such statistics as would be valuable for the righting of the wrong done the Pueblo Indians; consequently, he felt that he had no right to pay attention to a pretty girl, while his work remained unfinished.
Thus the entire scout-party rode into Springer, as the newspapers would say, “without any casualties,” either to soul or body; but there lurked a germ of love in Sanderson’s heart, for which no vaccine has yet been discovered.
CHAPTER FIVE
SANDY HAS HIS SAY
Having arrived in Springer the scout-party were amazed to find it such a small place. They had pictured it to be as important a city as Raton, with buildings as fine and good hotel accommodations. Now they learned that it was limited to little more than a thousand in population, and that it paid more attention to its export of flour and fruits to consumers in all parts of the country than to consumers of the cooked products who were at their “doors” needing food and shelter. At least, so Julie described the hungry condition of their party and the reception awarded them at the hotel.
“Good gracious! Jule, one would think you had never been on a camping trip before,” was Betty’s rebuke, when her sister complained of minor matters in connection with the hotel.