enlarging semicircles, trying to locate in the 

 darkness the hidden fort. In the midst of these, 

 a coyote challenged, and a dog answered. I hast- 

 ened toward the dog and came upon a single 

 low adobe full of Mexicans who could not un- 

 derstand me. However, their soft accents awak- 

 ened vivid memories in my mind, and distinctly 

 my strangely stimulated brain took me back 

 through fifteen years to the seedling orange 

 groves in the land of to-morrow where I had 

 lingered and learned to speak their tongue. An 

 offer of five dollars for transportation to Fort 

 Garland in time for the midnight train sent 

 Mexicans flying in all directions as though I 

 had hurled a bomb. 



Two boys with an ancient, wobbling horse 

 and buckboard landed me at the platform as the 

 headlight-glare of my train swept across it. The 

 big, good-natured conductor greeted me with 

 "Here's the Snow Man again, worse starved 

 than ever!" 



