To which they replied:
"Miss Asquith, Estes Park via Lyons, Colo. Congratulations. Fish, horse and man uncertain property. Resignation accepted to take effect day of ceremony.
Stoddersmith."
It was decided to go overland to Chiquita's Buena Vista ranch on horseback and with pack animals, the road horses and buckboard being started a few days ahead by way of Georgetown and the Berthoud Pass, to await the party at Hot Sulphur Springs, the trail from Estes via Specimen Mountain being impassable for anything on wheels.
"I am very anxious," said Jack, "that Hazel should see the grandest bit of scenery in Colorado. While the average mind is satisfied with Estes, still there is one little area beyond Estes that surpasses anything else, and there is but one way to get to it—walk."
Two good camp hustlers were engaged to do the work of packing, putting up tents and other duties in common. By going ahead a camp was located and pitched by the time the sightseers overtook the advance guard. A saddle horse to each member of the party, three small pack mules and a Mexican burro—the Rocky Mountain canary which Jack promised his sister year after year—the luggage so packed being ample for three times the number in the party.
The sun had crossed the noonday meridian when the final adios was given. Striking to the right of the Horseshoe Park road the trail led into a labyrinth of forest burned "down timber," miles of denuded trees—sentries in nature's graveyard—and as the wind wheezed dismally through the few branches left by the consuming fire, their creaking and rattling was not unlike the clatter of a thousand skeletons assembled in some vast amphitheatre to dance away a few years of eternity's exile.
The first camp was made in the center of this weirdly fantastic home of goblins and bogy men. The tents had been pitched and camp fires started when Jack and his four companions came straggling along. The side packs, containing commissary supplies, stood gaping, awaiting the cook. Frying pans, coffee pot and "Dutch oven" appealed, as it were, for recognition, so in one chorus the honor was thrust upon Jack to "get the first meal." But he was a past-master in the art, notwithstanding he had not officiated before in the presence of so "finnicky" an assemblage.
"Now, you ladies who have a cupboard full of clean dishes to use when you commence to prepare a meal, and a table to prepare it on and a cook book to guide you, and a sink for the trash, and shelves full of handy ingredients, and when the meal is ready every dish has been used and every utensil stands neglected with traces of its having fulfilled a mission belonging to it, and who sigh because there are so many pots, stewpans and table dishes to wash and dry after the meal is over,—just watch the frontier method."
Jack had superintended the packing of the "mess box," so he knew where all the supplies were. Seizing a stick, provided for the purpose, his first act was just like that of a woman. He poked the fire, but in his case it was to "draw out" a bed of coals on which he set the oven skillet, a cast iron utensil about five inches deep, with long legs under it and a bail and cast iron cover half an inch thick. The latter he placed on the fire logs. Next he washed his hands, then put a tablespoonful of coffee for each cup into a big pot and added cold water. This was put on one corner of his bed of coals. Taking a six quart pan he put in flour, some salt, a pinch of sugar, some milk—which by good luck they had managed to capture at the last ranch—then some baking powder, and stirred it all up with a big iron spoon until it was stiff. The mixing was done on a convenient rock. Here Jack looked suspiciously at the quizzical eyes which followed his every movement. He washed his hands again, then with turned-up shirt sleeves moulded the dough, adding flour until it was biscuit thick. Turning another pan upside down he flattened a portion of the dough to the desired thickness, then cut his biscuits square. The remainder of the dough in the original pan was treated likewise where it was. Cutting off a piece of bacon rind he "greased" his oven skillet thoroughly, placed the biscuits therein, then put the hot cover upon the skillet and a shovelful of hot coals on the cover. The coffee was just beginning to boil, so he set the pot back on some hot ashes, washed his pans, spoons and hands, and in a twinkle was slicing up some bacon and calf's liver, which he placed in a frying pan near the bread oven.