THE LAST CAMP 195 



We got under way about nine-thirty and did not 

 stop walking for a minute, not even for lunch, till 

 night found us but twenty miles from Silver and 

 forty miles from our " place of beginning," as sur- 

 veyors say. 



We were quite ready to make camp. Our trail 

 had been down hill all morning, to where the North 

 Fork joined the main stream of the Mimbres, and 

 over this fifteen-mile stretch the packers sent the 

 burros along at a trot. We were obliged to do be- 

 tween four and five miles an hour to keep up, and 

 considering the character of the trail and the weight 

 of our cruising shoes this was by no means a despi- 

 cable feat. Toward noon the canyon broadened and 

 the fertile valley of the Mimbres, with its ranches 

 and fruit farms, lay unrolled before us. 



Eound we swung to the south, into a broad, level 

 highway, the famous North Star road, built by the 

 War Department in early days, and now most grate- 

 ful to our tired feet. Down the river by this pleas- 

 ant winding way we travelled for ten miles and 

 more. The pace was not now so swift. The loaded 

 burros were beginning to feel the effects of earlier 

 efforts as well as we, and to slacken speed accord- 

 ingly. 



At last we crossed the Mimbres and entered 

 Shingle Canyon, heading in a northwesterly direc- 

 tion. Up this incline we toiled, mile after uphill 

 mile, till darkness compelled us to halt. We made 



