I dislike more, that's cactus."

"Why, Joy Evans, I think they are the most romantic looking objects
I've ever seen. They're wonderful!" exclaimed Bet.

"And as for me, I've taken pictures every time Matt has slowed down
enough. That shows what I think of them. I'm enthused over
everything! I've taken six pictures of cattle." Shirley, the quiet
one, rarely spoke so whole-heartedly over things. She appreciated but
seldom expressed her emotions.

Bet had half risen in the auto and craned her neck to catch a glimpse
of the ranch buildings, but all they could see for the moment was the
high wall of sun-dried bricks.

"What's the idea of that wall about a ranch?" she asked. In spite of
Bet's lively imagination, she always wanted a reason for everything she
saw. "They don't have Indian raids any more, do they?" Bet's tone
indicated that she almost wished they did.

"Oh, I hope not!" cried Joy. "Those fierce-looking Indians that we saw
racing toward the station didn't look exactly peaceful. I'm sure I
don't feel so very safe."

"Don't worry, girls, the Indians are tame enough now. But the walls
date back to the time when they weren't," Kit explained. "When that
wall was built the settlers needed it badly."

"Isn't it romantic!" Bet thrilled as she looked at the old adobe wall
fully ten feet high with small porthole openings at intervals. "And
there are the tiny windows they used to shoot through at the Indians.
I'd love to have seen it."

"Oh, Bet, you make me ashamed of you! And you know well enough you
wouldn't have wanted to see an Indian raid," sniffed Joy
contemptuously. "You're just trying to appear brave and wild."

But there was a look in Bet's eyes that confirmed her remarks. She
longed for adventure, wild fighting and glorious deeds of valor. If
she had been born earlier and been a boy she would have chosen the life
of a soldier or a pirate. Of that she was very sure.

"And down back of that wall is the canyon, where the Indians hid and
then rushed the ranch before the people inside knew they were there.
The old Indian trail runs off over the mountain on the other side of
the canyon," Kit informed her friends.

"Think of having to live out here in those days when there was so much
danger! I'm glad I didn't have to," Enid sighed. The memory of her
own isolated existence on Campers' Trail through that hard winter was
still too fresh in her memory. She did not often mention the
unple