These mountains, which were getting nearer every day, were a fresh source of wonder to Jack. He had lived all his life on the flat prairie where there was not even a hill to be seen, and he was speechless with surprise as he gazed on the snow-capped peaks in front of him, stretching up into the blue sky. Lower down the sides of the mountains the dark forests of trees spread for miles, and Jeff pointed out to him where the deep ravines or cañons could be seen where the mountain creeks rushed down to the valleys, fringed all along their banks with quaking aspens and cotton-wood trees. How pleased Jack felt to think that his new home must be somewhere in sight of these glorious mountains, and already the air they breathed seemed very different from the hot, close atmosphere at Longview. One evening they made their camp for the night just outside a Mexican village. It was a very queer-looking place, and Jack stared about him in astonishment. He had seen Mexicans passing through Longview occasionally, and now he had come to a village where no one but Mexicans lived. The houses were not built of wood, like those at Longview, but were made of a kind of mud called adobe. This adobe was shaped into bricks and baked. The houses looked so funny. Some were quite round like beehives, and it amused Jack very much when he noticed that many of the doors were halfway up the front wall of the houses, and when people wanted to go in and out, they went up and down ladders placed to reach the openings. That evening, after supper, Lem persuaded Jeff to walk into the village, leaving Jack as usual to wash up the things. The boy felt a mistrust of Lem when he saw how maliciously triumphant he looked as he strolled away from the camp accompanied by Jeff. He watched them as far as the village and then returned to his work. When it was finished he sat contentedly down by the fire to wait for them. It got later and later, but his companions did not return, and at last, unable to keep awake any longer, he went to bed.