I have anticipated. 

 SANTA FE, N.M., April—. 

 Arrived in Santa Fe, I inquired where Abner Fairbrother could be found. I was told that he was at his mine, sick. 

 Upon inquiring as to the location of the Placide, I was informed that it was fifteen miles or so distant in the mountains, and upon my expressing an intention of going there immediately, I was given what I thought very unnecessary advice and then directed to a certain livery stable, where I was told I could get the right kind of a horse and such equipment as I stood in need of. 

 I thought I was equipped all right as it was, but I said nothing and went on to the livery stable. Here I was shown a horse which I took to at once and was about to mount, when a pair of leggings was brought to me. 

 “You will need these for your journey,” said the man. 

 “Journey!” I repeated. “Fifteen miles!” 

 The livery stable keeper—a half-breed with a peculiarly pleasant smile—cocked up his shoulders with the remark: 

 “Three men as willing but as inexperienced as yourself have attempted the same journey during the last week and they all came back before they reached the divide. You will probably come back, too; but I shall give you as fair a start as if I knew you were going straight through.” 

 “But a woman has done it,” said I; “a nurse from the hospital went up that very road last week.” 

 “Oh, women! they can do anything—women who are nurses. But they don’t start off alone. You are going alone.” 

 “Yes,” I remarked grimly. “Newspaper correspondents make their journeys singly when they can.” 

 “Oh! you are a newspaper correspondent! Why do so many men from the papers want to see that sick old man? Because he’s so rich?” 

 “Don’t you know?” I asked. 

 He did not seem to. 

 I wondered at his ignorance but did not enlighten him. 

 “Follow the trail and ask your way from time to time. All the goatherds know where the Placide mine is.” 

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