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 lection of Indian silver. Later he led Ambrose out to the patio from whence they climbed a rude ladder to the roof of the adobe. Here Ambrose was offered a superb view of the snow-capped mountains, the fields below, the silver-domed capitol of Santa Fe, the towers of the cathedral, and, dotted here and there, the yellow and red adobe houses which somehow fitted into the friendly landscape as the habitations of the peasants do in Tuscany. Burros toiled up the steep distant paths and Mexican women in bright-hued shawls walked with burdens on their heads.

What do you want to do? Jack demanded. We can lounge around the patio or walk about Santa Fe or drive to the Santo Domingo Pueblo or to Taos, to see Edith Dale. If we go to Taos we might stop on the way at the Bouquet Ranch for lunch: Mrs. Crist is worth a special visit. Or we might go to Chimayo to watch them make bad modern blankets and look in on the divine old Spanish chapel at Sanctuario.

There seemed to be plenty of delightful things to do. Ambrose further reflected that wherever he was likely to go around this country the natives would babble in a language that he could not understand: consequently he would feel as isolated as if he had