"Again in the fall the fruit ripens," said Mauricio, "and near to Christmas, when the berries are a bright red, you begin to see the wagons loaded with the Christmas greens coming down the mountain roads and going into the city. Oh, I have often taken down a load; it makes money for us."
"That manganita is the finest thing we know," said Francisco. "Deep in the ground are the roots; they make good fuel. We burn them, and some sell them in town. You have, maybe, burned the manganita roots, Mr. Page?"
"No, we have not," was the reply; "but if you ever fetch us down a good load in the fall, Francisco, we will burn them this winter."
"Very well; it shall be done," said the boy. "I shall be glad to do so."
"It must be nearly lunch-time," ventured Nellie. "I feel pretty hungry."
Her father looked at his watch. "It is only eleven," he said, "but we had breakfast early. There does not seem to be any level ground just here. Shall we come to some after a while, Mauricio?"
"Soon," replied the Indian. "Wait a while and you will see. There will be water, good water, and we can make coffee."
The ascent had grown very steep; the horses tugged slowly but willingly upward. Suddenly they seemed to be at the top of the mountain. The slope on the other side, becoming very gradual, led into a broad, green, pleasant valley fringed by luxuriant foliage.
"How beautiful!" was the general exclamation.
"It seems like an enchanted valley," said Aunt Mary. "If you will observe, it forms an almost perfect circle. That lovely fringe of green surrounding it—the foot-hills just above—and those magnificent mountains in the background—it does indeed make one think of an enchanted valley."