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. 
Round 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’ 
