The genius of spring seemed to hover about, and snow, frost and scarcity of grass seemed far removed contingencies.

Everything looked promising.
As I left the town, following the pack-train after having made the last settlements with the natives, I passed a little hut, the last homestead on this side of the sierra.

In front of it stood a young girl, her hand raised to shade her eyes against the rays of the sinking sun.

She had watched the expedition go by, and was much excited by the strange sight of so many men, the wonderful array of animals and great quantity of baggage never before seen in those parts of the world.

With her fine dark eyes, her loose wavy hair and graceful figure, she made a strikingly beautiful picture, and as she called out in a sweet, melodious voice, _"Adios, Senor!"_ I took this kindly greeting from a pretty girl as a good omen for my journey.