ess restricted government, following the Mexican War, to
increase his interests. So mine and meadow, flock and herd, trappers'
snare and Indian loom and forge, all poured their treasures into his
hands--a clearing-house for the products of New Mexico to swell the
great overland commerce that followed the Santa Fe Trail.

For all of which the ground plan had been laid mainly by Esmond
Clarenden, when with tremendous daring he came to Santa Fe and spied out
the land for these years to follow.

A boy's memory is keen, and all the hours of that other journey hither,
with their eager anticipation and youthful curiosity, and love of
surprise and adventure, came back to Beverly Clarenden and me as we
pulled along the last lap of the trail.

"Was it really so long ago, Bev, that we came in here, all eyes and
ears?" I asked my cousin.

"No, it was last evening. And not an eyebrow in this Rip Van Winkle town
has lifted since," Beverly replied. "Yonder stands that old church where
the gallant knight on a stiff-legged pony spied Little Lees and knocked
the head off of that tormenting Marcos villain, and kicked it under the
door-step. Say, Gail, I'd like mighty well to see the grown-up Little
Lees, wouldn't you? And I'd as soon this was Saint Louis as Santa Fe."

Since the night of Mat's wedding, I had been resolutely putting away all
thought of Eloise St. Vrain. I belonged to the plains. All my training
had been for this. I thought I was very old and settled now. But the
mention of her pet name sent a thrill through me; and these streets of
Santa Fe brought back a flood of memories and boyhood dreams and
visions.

"Bev, how many auld-lang-syners do you reckon we'll meet in this land of
sunshine and _chilly_ beans?" I asked, carelessly.

"Well, how many of them do you remember, Mr. Cyclopedia of Prominent Men
and Pretty Women?" Beverly inquired.

"Oh, there was Felix Narveo and Father Josef--and Little Blue
Flower"--A shadow flitted across my cousin's face for a moment, leaving
it sunny as ever again.

"And there was that black-eyed Marcos boy everywhere, and Ferdinand
Ramero whom we were warned to step wide of," I went on.

"Oh, that tall thin man with blue-glass eyes that cut your fingers when
he looked at you. Maybe he went out the back door of New Mexico when
General Kearny peeped in at the front transom. There wasn't any fight in
that man."

"Jondo says he is still in Santa Fe." Just as I spoke an Indian swept by