rent from the Sacramento islands, eh?" Hastings said to Saxon.
"Nothing but old American stock in these mountains. And they haven't
changed any. As John Fox, Jr., said, they're our contemporary ancestors.
Our old folks were just like them."

Mr. and Mrs. Hastings, between them, told of their long drive. They were
out two months then, and intended to continue north through Oregon and
Washington to the Canadian boundary.

"Then we'll ship our horses and come home by train," concluded Hastings.

"But the way you drive you oughta be a whole lot further along than
this," Billy criticized.

"But we keep stopping off everywhere," Mrs. Hastings explained.

"We went in to the Hoopa Reservation," said Mr. Elastings, "and canoed
down the Trinity and Klamath Rivers to the ocean. And just now we've
come out from two weeks in the real wilds of Curry County."

"You must go in," Hastings advised. "You'll get to Mountain Ranch
to-night. And you can turn in from there. No roads, though. You'll have
to pack your horses. But it's full of game. I shot five mountain lions
and two bear, to say nothing of deer. And there are small herds of elk,
too.--No; I didn't shoot any. They're protected. These horns I got from
the old hunters. I'll tell you all about it."

And while the men talked, Saxon and Mrs. Hastings were not idle.

"Found your valley of the moon yet?" the writer's wife asked, as they
were saying good-by.

Saxon shook her head.

"You will find it if you go far enough; and be sure you go as far as
Sonoma Valley and our ranch. Then, if you haven't found it yet, we'll
see what we can do."

Three weeks later, with a bigger record of mountain lions and bear
than Hastings' to his credit, Billy emerged from Curry County and drove
across the line into California. At once Saxon found herself among the
redwoods. But they were redwoods unbelievable. Billy stopped the wagon,
got out, and paced around one.

"Forty-five feet," he announced. "That's fifteen in diameter. And
they're all like it only bigger. No; there's a runt. It's only about
nine feet through. An' they're hundreds of feet tall."

"When I die, Billy, you must bury me in a redwood grove," Saxon adjured.

"I ain't goin' to let you die before I do," he assured her. "An' then
we'll leave it in our wills for us both to be buried that way."

CHAPTER XVII

South they held along the coast, hunting, fishing, swimming, and
horse-buying. Billy shipped his purchases on th