Dr. Gurney Mayfield was clambering out of an ancient surrey and he secured a weary-looking, putty-colored horse to the fence before he hurried over to meet the newcomer. “Well, well, my dear boy, but it’s good to see you—here!” he twinkled at him. “Pardon my not coming right over but I had to tie Sam; he may look as if he had the sleeping sickness but he’d be off for camp the minute my back was turned. Now, let’s have a look at you, Dean!” His keen eyes went competently over him. “Feel as fit as you look?”
“Absolutely.”
“Ready for the rough stuff?”
“Quite.”
“Good!— You’re going to have plenty of it. Well, did you enjoy the work, the training?”
“Enormously, Doctor! It’s made me as hard as nails; exactly what I needed.” He was crisp and brisk and confident; his color was wholesome, emphasized just now by a flush of sunburn after his long day’s ride, and his eyes were steady. “You have been no end kind, Doctor; I was amazed at your being able to fix it up for me here.”
They had walked back to the surrey. “Get in,” said Dr. Mayfield. “Now, I call it a rare treat, in an age of mad motors to ride behind old Sam in this surrey.” He backed the venerable steed away from the fence and started him down the road. “My camp is a mile and a half further; no machines allowed—riders and hikers only. As to being able to arrange things for you here, it wasn’t difficult; the regular Ranger is a very good friend of mine, and he has had a real vacation coming to him for a long time. He’ll stay with you for a while, of course, and put you on to the ropes. Steady, Sam, old boy!” He applied a shrieking brake as they jolted down a bank and into a shallow, hurrying stream. “The Sur goes through the camp in three places,” he said. “This is great country, my boy. Wildest county in California, and I hope it always will be.” They splashed noisily across the little river and climbed steeply out again.
“Well, I fancy you haven’t any difficulty in keeping machines out,” commented Dean, looking back.
“They don’t often try it twice—not the same machine,” his friend exulted. They were jogging along on a curving road, now, through the narrow valley. “The ocean’s over there, three miles,” he gestured to the right. “Near enough to get the tang of it, but far enough to miss the fog; the mountains on this side are the Santa Lucia range—Ventanas off to the left. Just wait till I get you on a horse and give you the first real glimpse of it! Oh, by the way—I got Snort for you!”
“Really! Great work, Doctor. I am pleased!—But I don’t know how I can ever thank you for taking so much trouble.”