That was the picture that formed itself in his mind. But the things that did not occur to him, the things the geographies did not mention and that no one had told him about, so far, were the blistering heat of the tropics that could scorch and burn as mercilessly as the blast from a furnace; the insect pests that rendered life all but unendurable; the fevers that sapped one’s vitality; and the monotony of existence in far-away, lonely places with only the treacherous half-breeds and stolid Indians for companions. It was just as well that these unpleasant details and many others of similar nature remained in the obscure background; he would make their acquaintance soon enough. “Better decide on what you want to take with you,” his father advised the next day. “You will not need anything fancy, and keep the amount down as much as possible. Talk it over with your mother.” That was good advice and David followed it. But it required nearly one full day to make out the list, go over it carefully, strike out some items, add others, and then start over again with the ever-present suspicion that something of importance had been forgotten. “I’ll tell you what,” he said finally, “I am not going to take anything except a few clothes to wear on the trip, one khaki outfit and a gun. How do I know what is proper down there? I might take down a lot of things only to find that they are not suitable in that climate. And the other fellows working on the ranch must get their clothes somewhere in the neighborhood, so I can, too, after I find out exactly what I need.” His mother promptly agreed that that was the sensible thing to do. Only, she added, a few good books might prove not unwelcome companions on such a trip, so David promptly packed his volumes on cattle and agriculture as well as a few favorite others. The news of his intended journey spread rapidly among his friends and acquaintances. They immediately divided into two factions; one considered him the luckiest mortal in the world while the other thought he was the most foolish person imaginable. David pitied them all, impartially. No matter how they felt, they were all doomed to remain behind, chained to the treadmill of city existence, while he was the one to go forth into God’s great world with only the horizon to mark the boundary of his vision and activity. “I cannot understand it,” Mr. Jones announced one evening soon after. “Rice has not answered my cable. Perhaps he has given up the ranch and gone to other parts. I am sorry, but you may not go after all. Too bad, after all the anticipation.” David’s heart sank. “Rice or no Rice, I am going just the same,” he announced. “But where to? If he has gone away there will be no place to which you can go.” “He couldn’t take the ranch with him, could he? If he has gone someone else must have it. And even if that outfit is out of existence there must be plenty of others. I am not fussy over where I make my start.”