de up his mind to
stay contentedly with Pedro until he got the chance of travelling with
some nice companion. He would have been quite happy with the Mexican
and his good dog, except for the great longing to see his parents,
which sometimes almost impelled him to resume his journey at all risks.

CHAPTER IX.

JACK ARRIVES AT SWIFT CREEK RANCH.

Jack had been two months with Pedro Gomez, and the weather was getting
much colder. November had come, and although the sun still shone
brightly and warm in the middle of the day, the nights were terribly
cold, and Jack was glad enough to have the extra sheepskins to tuck
round him which Pedro brought out for his use. There had been one fall
of snow, which quickly cleared off the prairie again, leaving the
mountains clothed with white above the timber-line. It was a pretty
sight to see the contrast of the bright-coloured foliage against the
snow, for in the autumn, all along the mountain creeks, the leaves of
the oak-scrub turn a brilliant red, and those of the quaking aspen a
bright yellow, making a wonderful mass of colour.

One afternoon Pedro called Jack out to look at the mountains. The sun
was just setting, and its rays were spreading along the edge of the
peaks, making it look as if the whole outline of the range had been
marked out with a broad, blood-red ribbon.

'Look at that, Jack!' exclaimed the Mexican. 'Ain't that a grand
sight? D'ye know what the old pioneers called them mountains?'

'I've heard, but I've forgot somehow. It's a grand long name as I
can't remember,' returned Jack.

'Well, I guess ye'll bear it in mind after to-day, for they called it
_Sangre de Christo_, which in English means "Blood of Christ"; and
folks say they gave the Range that name because the first explorers saw
the mountains with that blood-red streak running along the top.'

'I shan't forget it now, I'm sure,' said Jack, gazing admiringly at the
gorgeous scene before them. '_Sangre de Christo_, Blood of Christ,' he
repeated slowly. 'I like that name for it.'

'Aye,' returned Pedro, 'the old Spanish explorers gave nicer names to
places than the new settlers have done later. Which d'ye think is
prettiest, names like _Huerfano_ (Orphan), _Buena Vista_ (Good View),
_Rosita_ (Little Rose), and _Rio Dolores_ (River of Sorrow); or
_Smith's Park_, _Taylor's Creek_, _Gibson's Peak_, and _Georgetown_,
and such-like? Mr. Stuart was talking to me once about it, and he said