Their trip to New York was uneventful and when they arrived at the Grand Central Station, the picturesque figure of Uncle Jeb stood out individually amidst the hustling throng. His very presence seemed to breathe clean, fresh air into that artificial atmosphere. He caught sight of the boys almost at the same time they saw him. With his familiar smile of welcome he joined them. “Howdy, boys! I reckon now we’re jest about on time. Are yuh both ready to leave?” he asked, laughing heartily. “I’ll say so!” they answered unanimously. When the “all aboard” was called and they felt the tug of the engine making ready to pull out, Artie and Westy looked into one another’s faces beamingly. I’ve always thought since, it would be rather a difficult thing to decide, as to which one of the boys looked the happiest. CHAPTER XVII—“HILLS” The sun was hardly more than a perceptible blur behind the vast wall of mountains surrounding Eagle City when Westy, Artie and Uncle Jeb alighted from the Pullman train onto the station platform. They were fatigued after their long and tiresome journey and followed Uncle Jeb wearily over to a rather dilapidated looking Ford, ostensibly the only taxicab the town afforded, which was to convey them to the Inn. The rickety little car started off with a snort as they seated themselves in the springless seat. Minus shock absorbers and all, they gave themselves up to the clear cool wind blowing gently in their faces as they sped along the rough, unpaved roads. Time itself seemed to stand still as they flew past little unpainted shacks and makeshift abodes, for there wasn’t any Super-Seven that covered the ground any faster than this rattle-box of a flivver. Here and there they would catch a glimpse of some pretentious looking ranch-owner’s home, until gradually civilization was left behind and became no more than a speck on the horizon. They were in the foothills now, with the towering Rockies on all four sides. It seemed to Westy, who was dexterously trying to keep his seat with the others, that they would surely run clean into the mountainside whichever way the driver might turn. He confided as much to Uncle Jeb who smilingly remarked: “Got more ’n ten mile to go yit, afore we come to the Inn and after thet it’s a couple more ’til we hit the trail into the hills.” It amused Westy and Artie considerably to hear Uncle Jeb refer to that majestic pile of rock and pine forests tipping against the sky-line, as the “hills.” “’Tain’t high here, boys,” he said, divining their smiling silence. “Wait’ll we cross Eagle Pass to-morrer, this side o’ my cabin! Them’s what yuh call mountains over there shure ’nough.” This with a finality that did not leave the boys in any doubt as to what they were to expect. By this time, they were swiftly approaching the picturesque little Inn that nestled with such an air of peace and contentment against the lordly mountainside.