and life grew rose-colored for me in a moment.

"We are all going to Santa Fé over the long trail. Every last gun of us.
Aunty Boone, and Mat, and you, and me, and Jondo, and Uncle Esmond,
rag-tag and bobtail. Whoop-ee-diddle-dee!" Beverly threw up his cap,
and, catching Mat by the arms, they whirled around the room together.

"Who says so, Bev?" I asked, eagerly.

"Them as knows and bosses everything in this world. Jondo told me, and
he's just the boss's shadow. Now guess who," Beverly replied.

"It's all true, Gail," Mat assured me. "Esmond Clarenden _is_ going to
Santa Fé in spite of 'war, pestilence, famine, and sword,' as my
_History of the World_ says, and he _is_ going to take son Beverly, and
son Gail to watch son Beverly; and Miss Mat Nivers to watch both of them
and shoo Indians away; and Aunt Daniel Boone to scare the Mexicans into
the Gulf of California, if they act ugly, see!"

She capered about the room, and as she passed me she stooped and patted
me on the forehead. I didn't want her to do that. I had taken a long
jump away from little-boy-dom a week ago, but I was supremely content
now that all of us were to take the long trail together.

That evening while Mat and Beverly went to look after some fishing-lines
they had set--Mat and Bev were always going fishing--and Jondo was down
at the store, the officer in command of the fort came in. He paid no
attention to me lying there, all eyes and ears whenever shoulder-straps
were present.