through openings in the trees showing the bed of the river itself. In
the distance behind them was Eagle Butte, towering above the town they
had left a few brief moments before, and beyond that the Costejo
Mountains, rugged and massive and covered in part on their lower slopes
with blue-green thickets of pine. Across the river was a choppy sea of
sand-dunes stretching away to the north as far as sight could reach.
Here and there a high-flung mound, smooth and oval or capped with ledges
of black, glistening rode broke the monotony of the view.

Engrossed in the study of the almost primitive picture Carolyn June
forgot the flight of time and the speed at which they were traveling.

"Yonder's the ranch!" Skinny announced suddenly, turning half around in
his seat and pointing ahead and to the left toward the river.

The valley widened till it was a mile or more across. The Cimarron swung
sharply to the north and hugged the foot of the bench as if unwilling
to spoil the meadowlands past which it flowed. In a great
half-crescent--"Quarter Circle," Old Heck called it--the green
basin-like area lay spread out before them. It was a half dozen miles in
length, reaching from the canyon gate at the upper end of the valley
where the river turned abruptly northward, to the narrow gorge at the
south through which it disappeared.

A blue crane lazily flapped across the valley.

"Seven thousand acres in the bottoms," Skinny volunteered.

"Beautiful!" Carolyn breathed.