The Dude Wrangler

by Caroline Lockhart

  CHAPTER XXIV

  HICKS THE AVENGER

  The remarkable change in Mr. Hicks' manner continued the next morning.It was so radical that no one could fail to observe it and the commentswere frequent, while Mrs. Stott crowed openly.

  From haughty independence he had become so anxious to please that he wasalmost servile, and his manner toward the wife of the rising youngattorney particularly was that of a humble retainer fawning at the feetof royalty. During breakfast he stood at a respectful distance, speakingonly when spoken to, and jumping to serve them.

  This attitude quickly dissipated the fear which he had inspired in TheHappy Family, and by noon they were not only calling him "Hicks" but"Ellery." Then, this stage of familiarity having been passed in safety,Mr. Stott humorously dubbed him "Cookie," and the name was adopted byeveryone.

  Mrs. Budlong ventured to complain that there was too much shortening inthe biscuit. This was a real test of the sincerity of his reformationsince, if such a thing were possible, he had been even more "touchy"upon the subject of his cooking than his dignity. No one could doubtbut that the change was genuine when he not only received the criticismmeekly but actually thanked her for calling his attention to it.

  Thus encouraged, Mr. Appel declared that he wished he would not fry theham to chips and boil the "daylights" out of the coffee. Mr. Hicks bowedservilely and replied that he would try to remember in future. Mrs.Stott took occasion to remark that his vegetables would be better forless seasoning and more cooking, and Miss Gaskett thought his driedfruit would be improved by soaking over night and additional sweetening.

  Mr. Hicks received these criticisms in a humility that was pathetic whencompared with his former arrogance. He looked crushed as he stood withbowed head and drooping shoulders as if his proud, untrammelled spirithad been suddenly broken.

  Miss Eyester felt sorry for him and asserted that she could not recallwhen she had enjoyed food so much and eaten so heartily. Indeed, she hadbeen such a gourmand that she had gained a pound and six ounces, if thescales upon which she had been weighed in Prouty were accurate.

  Mr. Stott, however, who was in one of his waggish moods, undid all thatshe might have accomplished in the way of soothing Hicks' injuredfeelings, by inquiring facetiously if he would mind rolling him out acouple of pie-crusts to be tanned and made into bedroom slippers.

  Mr. Hicks laughed heartily along with the others, and only Walliecaught the murderous glitter through his downcast lashes.

  It developed that the Yellowstone Park was a place with which Hicks wasthoroughly familiar from having made several trips around the Circle. Hewas not only acquainted with points of interest off the beaten trackpassed unseen by the average tourist, but he suggested many original anddiverting sports--like sliding down a snowbank in a frying-pan--whichwould not have occurred to any of them.

  By the time the party had reached the Lake Hotel they were consultinghim like a Baedeker, and he answered every question, however foolish,with a patience and an affability that were most praiseworthy. Theirmanner toward him was a kind of patronizing camaraderie, while Mrs.Stott treated him with the gracious tolerance of a great lady unbending.

  A disbelief in the ability of the leopard to change its spots madeWallie sceptical regarding Hicks' altered disposition, yet he did hisbest to convince himself that he was wrong when Hicks went out andcaught a trout from the Yellowstone Lake expressly for Mrs. Stott'ssupper.

  It was a beautiful fish as it lay on the platter, brown, crisp, andornamented with lemon. Mr. Hicks offered it much as the head of John theBaptist might have been brought to Salome.

  "Thank you, Hicks," said Mrs. Stott, kindly.

  "I hope you'll like it, ma'am," he murmured, humbly.

  The mark of favour seemed to bear out Mrs. Stott's contention thatinferiors should not be treated as equals in any circumstances. Now,with her fork in the fish, Mrs. Stott looked around the table andinquired graciously if she might not divide it with someone?

  Everyone politely declined except Mrs. Budlong, who looked at it sowistfully that Mrs. Stott lost no time in transferring it to her plate.She ate with gusto and declared after tasting it:

  "It is delicious, simply delicious! I never remember eating another withquite the same delicate flavour. I presume," addressing herself to Mr.Hicks, who was standing with arms akimbo enjoying her enjoy it, "it isdue to something in the water?"

  "I presume so," he replied, respectfully, and added: "The trout in theYellowstone Lake are said to be very nourishing."

  It was natural that Mrs. Stott should feel a little flattered by thisevidence of partiality even from a menial, also she noticed that Mrs.Budlong was following each mouthful with the eyes of a hungry bird-dogso she could not refrain from saying further:

  "It is such a delightful change from ham and bacon. I am not sure," sheaverred, laughingly, "that I shall not eat the head and fins, even."

  "I wish _I_ was in such favour," Mrs. Budlong declared, enviously.

  "Never mind, Honey Dumplin'," said Mr. Budlong, "I shall go out aftersupper and catch your breakfast."

  "You ought to get a boatload," Hicks added quickly, "if you find theright place."

  "I saw them jumping by the million where I was walking before supper."Mr. Appel volunteered to conduct Mr. Budlong to the spot as soon as theywere finished eating.

  Everyone who had fishing-tackle decided to avail himself of thiswonderful opportunity, and they all followed Mr. Appel except Mr. andMrs. Stott, who preferred to fish by themselves from the bridge over theYellowstone river.

  They were the last to leave but returned in not more than twentyminutes, Mr. Stott supporting his wife in what seemed to be a faintingcondition.

  Wallie hastened forward to lend his assistance if necessary.

  "Is she ill?" he inquired, solicitously.

  "Ill! She is sick at her stomach and no wonder!" He was plainly angryand appeared to direct his wrath at Wallie.

  While Wallie wondered, it did not seem a propitious moment to askquestions, and he would have turned away had Mr. Stott not saidperemptorily:

  "Wait a minute. I want to speak to you."

  Having laid Mrs. Stott, who was shuddering, on her blankets andadministered a few drops of aromatic spirits of ammonia, he dropped theflap of her teepee and beckoned Wallie curtly:

  "You come with me."

  Wallie could not do else than follow him, his wonder growing as he ledthe way to the camp kitchen where Mr. Hicks was engaged at the momentin the task which he referred to as "pearl-diving."

  He did not appear surprised to see them in his domain, on the contraryhe seemed rather to be expecting them, for immediately he took his handsout of the dish-water, wiped them on the corner of his apron, andreaching for a convenient stick of stove-wood laid it on the corner ofthe table with a certain significance in the action.

  "Make yourself to home, gents," he said, hospitably, indicating thewagon-tongue and a cracker-box for seats, respectively. "Anything inparticular I can do for you?" He looked at Mr. Stott guilelessly.

  "You can answer me a few questions." Mr. Stott fixed a sternly accusingeye upon him. "Hicks, was, or was not, that trout you gave my wife,wormy?"

  Mr. Hicks, who seemed to relish the situation, pursed his lips andconsidered. Finally he asked in a tone which showed that he had pride inhis legal knowledge:

  "Will I or will I not incriminate myself by answering?"

  "You probably will if I'm correct in my suspicions. I want the truth."

  "Then," replied Mr. Hicks, while his hand slipped carelessly to thestick of stove-wood, "if you force the issue, I will say that I've seena good many wormy trout come out of the Yellowstone but that was theworst I ever met up with."

  Mr. Stott advanced belligerently.

  "And you dare boast of it!"

  "I'm not boasting--I'm just telling you," replied Mr. Hicks, calmly. "AnEye for an Eye, a Tooth for a Tooth, that's my motto, and your wifethought I wasn't good enough to eat at the table with her.
"

  "You hear?" Stott turned to Wallie furiously. "He did it on purpose. Idemand that you discharge this fellow!"

  Mr. Hicks' fingers caressed the stove-wood while he waited Wallie'sanswer.

  Wallie squirmed between the two of them.

  "It was reprehensible, Mr. Stott, I am more distressed than I can tellyou. I have no excuse to offer for Hicks' action, but the truth is, ashe knows and has taken advantage of it, I cannot replace him and it isimpossible to get along without a cook with so large a party."

  "You will, then, not discharge him?" Stott demanded.

  "I am helpless," Wallie reiterated.

  Hicks grinned triumphantly.

  "In that case," Mr. Stott declared in a tone which implied that atremendous upheaval of some kind would follow his decision, "my wife andI will leave your party and continue through the Park by motor."

  Wallie felt that it was useless to argue with any one so determined, sohe made no effort to persuade Mr. Stott to remain, though the deflectionof two more persons was a serious matter to him and Pinkey.

  Without waiting to say good-bye to the others, the Stotts paid theirbill and departed, walking so erect in their indignation as they starteddown the road toward the Lake Hotel that they seemed to lean backward.

  It was not yet dark when Mr. Stott, stepping briskly and carrying hisGladstone bag, raincoat, and umbrella in a jaunty manner, came into campannouncing breezily that he had decided, upon reflection, not to "biteoff his nose to spite his face." He declared that he would not let thelikes of Ellery Hicks upset his plans for touring the Yellowstone, andwhile his wife refused to return he meant to carry out his originalintention.

  But the real reason for Mr. Stott's decision, as Wallie suspected fromthe frequency with which he had discovered him sitting upon a log insecluded spots counting his money, was that the hotel rates and motorfare were far higher then he had anticipated.

  Mrs. Stott's absence did not leave the gap which she had anticipated. Infact, after the first evening her name was never mentioned, and Mr.Stott's marital ties rested so lightly upon him that a stranger wouldnever have known they existed. He gravitated toward Miss Gaskett with apromptitude which gave rise to the suspicion that he had had his eyeupon her, and Miss Gaskett responded so enthusiastically that it was amatter for gossip.

  It was noted that she took to doing her hair up at night on "wavers" andused her lipstick with greater frequency, and whereas she had vowed shemeant never again to get in the saddle she now rode with Mr. Stottdaily.

  The ladies who had known Miss Gaskett for twenty-five years, and nothingto her discredit, were not prepared to say that she was a huzzy and avampire without further evidence, but they admitted to each otherprivately that they always had felt there was something queer and notquite straightforward about Mattie.

  Miss Gaskett, who looked like a returned missionary that had had a hardtime of it carrying the Light into the dark places, seemed rather elatedthan depressed at the aspersions cast upon her character, and by thetime they reached the "Paint Pots" she was flaunting Mr. Stottshamelessly, calling him "Harry" before everybody, and in the eveningsitting with him by the camp-fire on the same saddle-blanket.

  At Mammoth Hot Springs Mrs. Budlong showed her disapproval by refusingto speak to Miss Gaskett, and Miss Gaskett replied by putting on apeek-a-boo blouse that was a scandal.

  But Mrs. Budlong herself was not in too high favour, since to the sin ofgluttony she had added that of lying and been caught at it. It was asmall matter, but, as Mrs. Appel declared indignantly, it is triflesthat betray character, and Mrs. Budlong was treated with marked coldnessby the ladies to whom she had prevaricated.

  It was known beyond the question of a doubt that Mrs. Budlong hadpurchased food and kept it in her teepee. Therefore, when asked forsomething to ward off a faint feeling before dinner and she had deniedhaving anything, they were outspoken in their resentment.

  "There she stood and lied to our faces," Mrs. Appel declared to herhusband afterward, "while her mouth was shining. I could smell sardineson her and a big cracker crumb was lying on her bosom. Indeed, it's atrue saying they have in this country that to know people you must campwith them. I never would have thought that of Hannah Budlong!"

  It was because of this incident, and the strained relations whichresulted from her perfidy, that none of her erstwhile friends respondedto her invitation to join her in a bath in a beaver dam of which Mr.Hicks told her when they camped early the next afternoon.

  Mrs. Budlong's phlegmatic body contained an adventurous spirit, and thedelights of a bath in a beaver dam in the heart of a primeval forestappealed to her strongly.

  To Mr. Hicks, who sought her out purposely to tell her about it, sheconfided:

  "Hicks, underneath my worldly exterior I am a Child of Nature. I lovethe simple, the primitive. I would live as a Wild Thing if I couldchoose my environment."

  Mr. Hicks nodded sympathetically and understandingly, and returned theconfidence.

  "I am convinced that I was a faun when the world was young. There aretimes when I feel the stirrings of my wild nature."

  Mrs. Budlong regarded him attentively. She never had thought of him as afaun but now she noticed that his ears _were_ peculiar.

  Nobody could have been more obliging and interesting than Mr. Hicks ashe guided her to the beaver dam and explained its construction. It hadlong since been abandoned by the industrious animals that had built it,but their work had been so well done that it was in as good condition aswhen they had left it.

  There was nothing to fear from beavers; anyway, Hicks assured her, henever had known a beaver to attack anybody. In this isolated spot shewas as safe from intrusion as if she were in her own bathroom, and,after tramping down a spot in the brush for her to stand on, he wentaway declaring that he was sure she would have an experience she alwayswould remember.

  Left alone, Mrs. Budlong felt of the water. It was, as Hicks had said,even warmer than tepid from standing--an ideal temperature. The brushgrew high around the pond formed by the back-water and made a perfectshelter. No fear of prying eyes need disturb her.

  Then a daring thought came to her which made her black eyes sparkle.Suppose she did not wear any bathing suit! What an adventure to relateto her intimate friends when she returned to Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania!It laid hold of her imaginative mind, and the result was that Mrs.Budlong hung her suit on a bush and went in _au naturelle_.

  She waded in cautiously, for the bottom was soft and oozy and there werelittle patches of green floating on the surface that she did not so muchlike the looks of. Otherwise conditions were perfect, and Mrs. Budlongsubmerged like a submarine when she reached the middle of it. She cameup and stood looking at the sky above her, enjoying the feeling of thesunshine on her skin, and the soft, warm breeze that caressed her. Shesmiled at an interested blue-jay, then submerged again, deeper, and thetide rose so that the water lapped bushes and pebbles that had not beenwet all summer.

  Her smile grew wider as she thought what the others were missing, andwas considering how much she dared embellish the adventure without beingdetected, when, suddenly, a look of horror came to her face and stayedthere, while screams that sounded more like the screeches of a lynx ormountain-lion than those of a human being scared the blue-jay andbrought those in camp up standing. Piercing, hair-raising, unnatural asthey were, Mr. Budlong recognized them.

  "My wife! Help! Murder! Hicks, where is she? Find a weapon and come withus!"

  "I gotta get supper," Hicks replied, heartlessly.

  Mr. Appel, Mr. Stott, and old Mr. Penrose dashed into their tents anddashed out carrying firearms that had been sealed by the Park officials,as is customary, while Mr. Budlong in his frenzy snatched a pair ofscissors from Miss Eyester and headed the posse which expected to pursuethe murderer. He was not a murderer yet, however, for Mrs. Budlong'sscreams had not diminished in volume, although it was feared that worsethan death might already have befallen her. Her shrieks guided them likea lighthouse siren, so
they lost no time in taking wrong directions but,at that, it was a considerable distance and Mr. Budlong, in spite of theagonized thoughts which goaded him forward, was so handicapped by hisasthma that he gradually fell to the rear of the rescue party.

  Mr. Stott was then in the lead, with Mr. Appel a close second, until thelatter, who was wearing bedroom slippers, stumped his toes against arock with such force that he believed them broken. He dropped downimmediately with the pain of it and sat weaving to and fro, clasping hisfoot to his breast while the others passed him.

  Mr. Stott called that help was arriving as he crashed through the brushin the vicinity of the beaver dam. To his astonishment Mrs. Budlongshrieked:

  "Don't come!" and went on screaming. When he reached the pond he stoppedshort and stood there, and old Mr. Penrose joined him an instant later.

  Mr. Appel, alternately limping and hopping yet covering ground withsurprising rapidity, reached the others ahead of Mr. Budlong, who,staggering with exhaustion, huge drops on his pallid face, and wheezinglike an old accordeon, all but fainted when he saw the wife of hisbosom.

  Mrs. Budlong, looking like a corn-fed Aphrodite, stood in the middle ofthe pool, with her fat white back, wet and glistening, flecked withbrown particles that resembled decayed vegetation.

  "What's the matter, Honey Dumplin'?" cried Mr. Budlong, shocked andbewildered.

  For answer, Mrs. Budlong screamed the harder.

  "I know!" piped up Mr. Appel. "She's covered withleeches--blood-suckers--and can't get 'em off. I got 'em once swimmin'in stagnant water."

  When he spoke he called attention to the fact of his presence and thatof Mr. Stott and old Mr. Penrose. Instead of being grateful for theinformation, and for the assistance the others had expected to render,Mr. Budlong turned upon them all furiously:

  "Get out of here you Peeping Toms and spying libertines! Haven't you anyshame about you?"

  He raised the scissors so threateningly that as soon as they recoveredfrom their astonishment they retreated, but, at that, their haste wasnot sufficient to appease an outraged husband. Mr. Budlong picked up apebble and threw it with such a sure aim that it bounced between Mr.Stott's shoulder-blades.

  When he had picked off the blood-suckers that were battening on Mrs.Budlong, the two returned to camp and lost no time in serving notice onWallie that they were leaving by the first passing conveyance if theyhad to buy it.

  Whether or not Mr. Hicks had known of the leeches was a matter for muchdiscussion, and opinion was about equally divided as to his innocence.He disclaimed all knowledge of them, however, and went about with theair of one cruelly maligned.

  His martyr-like pose was not convincing to Wallie, who could not ridhimself of the suspicion that the incident had been planned, thoughPinkey contended that he did not believe Hicks was "deep" enough tothink of anything like that.

  "Anyhow, he's cost us three dudes," said Wallie, which remark wassufficient to set Pinkey figuring with a stick.

  "Three head of dudes at $5.00 a day for, say, eleven days is, say----"

  "They're gone and that's all there is to it. The thing for us to do isto see that no more leave," Wallie interrupted practically.

  "I'm not worryin' about them," Pinkey replied, confidently, "if we canjest hold that cook. We've got to humour him till we git through thistrip, then after he's paid off I aim to work him over and leave him forsomebody to drag out."

  But as if to make amends for the loss he had caused his employers,Hicks' manner grew increasingly saccharine and he redoubled his effortsto provide entertainment for the guests. By the time they arrived at theCanon Hotel Wallie was questioning his suspicions of Hicks and feltinclined to believe that he had been hasty in his judgment.

  He was undoubtedly an asset, for the entire party hung on his words andrelied upon him to see that they missed nothing of interest. Mr. Stottwas indebted to him for an experience which relegated the Floridahoot-owl to the background, though the thrill of the adventure was sointermingled with anguish that it was impossible to tell where one leftoff and the other began.

  Sliding down the snow-covered side of a mountain in a frying-pan wasfraught with all the sensations Hicks had described and some he hadomitted.

  When they had reached the particular spot which he had recommended forthe sport, in lieu of a frying-pan, Hicks gave Mr. Stott a well-worngold-pan that he had found somewhere.

  Starting at the top with the party as spectators, Mr. Stott shot downthe side like the proverbial bullet, but midway his whoops of ecstasychanged to cries of acute distress, owing to the fact that the frictionwore a hole through the pan to the size of a dollar, and Mr. Stott,unable to stop his unique toboggan or endure the torture longer, turnedover and finished the trip on his stomach.

  Mr. Stott's eyes often rested upon Hicks afterward with a questioninglook in them, but the cook's solicitude had been so genuine that cynicalas his legal training had made him, he was obliged to think that it waspurely an accident which might not happen one time in a million.

  No point in the Park had been anticipated more than the camp at theCanon where Mr. Hicks averred that the bears came in swarms to regalethemselves upon the hotel garbage. Their tour thus far had been adisappointment in that the wild animals, with which they had beeninformed the Park teemed, were nowhere in evidence.

  A deer had crossed the road ahead of them and they had gazed at a bandof elk through Mr. Penrose's field-glasses, but otherwise they had seennothing that they could not have seen in Pennsylvania.

  Mr. Hicks' tales of the bears had aroused their interest to such a pointthat as soon as the camp site was selected they loaded their cameras andkodaks and set off immediately to get pictures while the light wasfavourable.

  It chanced to be one of the days, however, when the bears had no tastefor garbage and although they waited until nearly supper-time not a bearput in its appearance. Mr. Penrose, in particular, was disappointed andvexed about it, and while it was unreasonable to hold Hicks in any wayaccountable for their absence, he could not refrain from sayingdisagreeably:

  "I think you have exaggerated this bear business, Hicks. I have no doubtthat a bear or two may come down occasionally, I have the word of othersfor it, but as for droves of bears--swarms--I think you haveoverstated."

  Mr. Hicks cringed under the criticism, and admitted with a conciliatorywhine in his voice that was rather sickening:

  "Perhaps I did enlarge a little, Mr. Penrose. Possibly I wasover-anxious to be interesting. I apologize sincerely if I have misledand disappointed you. I hope, however, that you will yet have theopportunity of seeing at least one before we leave here."

  "No such luck," Mr. Penrose growled at him. "I haven't any idea thatI'll see even the tracks. It's a good idea to cut in two everythingyou're told in this country and then divide it."

  Mr. Penrose was so hard on Hicks that Mr. Appel interposed quickly:

  "Do they ever come around at night, Cookie?"

  "So I have been informed," Mr. Hicks replied, conservatively.

  Pinkey was about to say that bears travelled more by night than indaytime, when Mr. Appel declared that he intended to sleep in thesleeping bag he had brought with him but which Mrs. Appel had notpermitted him to use because she felt nervous alone, in her teepee.

  Mrs. Appel protested against Mr. Appel thus recklessly exposing himselfto danger but Mr. Appel was mulish in the matter.

  "If, by chance, one _should_ come into camp I would have a good look athim. I may never have another such opportunity."

  "If you want to take your life in your hands, well and good."

  So, after supper, Mr. Appel unrolled his sleeping bag and spread it on alevel spot not far from the supply wagon. Then he kissed Mrs. Appel, whoturned her cheek to him, and buttoned himself into the bag.

  The talk of bears had made Aunt Lizzie Philbrick so nervous that as anextra precaution she pinned the flap of her tent down securely with arow of safety-pins and Mr. Stott not only slept in more of his clothesthan usual but put a
pair of brass knuckles under his pillow.

  These brass knuckles had been presented to Mr. Stott by a gratefulclient for whom he had obtained damages from a street railway companyfor injuries received through being ejected from a saloon six monthsprior to the date upon which he had fallen off the car step.

  Brass knuckles and a convenient length of lead-pipe were favouriteweapons with the clientele which gave to the waiting room of Mr. Stott'slaw office an odour reminiscent of a Wayfarers' Lodging House.

  The night was a dark one, so dark in fact that old Mr. Penrose felt somelittle hesitation when it came bed-time over going off to sleep byhimself in the brush where, owing to his unfortunate habit of snoring soloud as to be beyond anything human, they now placed his teepee.

  There was not a glimmer of moonlight or starlight to guide him as hewent stumbling and crashing through the brush to his rag residence. Histhoughts were not so much of four-footed visitors as of footpads and theease with which they could attack him and get away with hisgrandfather's watch which he was wearing.

  Out in the open, Mr. Appel was enjoying the novelty tremendously, thoughhe was a little too warm for comfort in his fleece-lined bag. But afterthe last candle had been extinguished he called to his wife cheerily:

  "Are you all right, dearie?"

  Mrs. Appel was not to be so easily propitiated and did not answer, so hecalled again:

  "This is great--simply great! I wish you were with me."

  Only Mr. Appel and his Maker knew that he screwed up his cheek andwinked at the fabrication.

  Sleep came quickly to the tired tourists, and soon there was no soundsave the distant tinkle of the bell on one of the horses and the faintrumble of Mr. Penrose's slumbers.

  It was eleven o'clock or thereabouts, and the clouds had rifted lettingthrough the starlight, when dark forms began to lumber from thesurrounding woods and pad around the camp, sniffing at various objectsand breathing heavily.

  There were bears of all sizes and ages, ranging from yearlings tograndfathers whose birthdays were lost in antiquity. Mr. Appel, who wasa light sleeper and the first to discover them, would have sworn on amonument of Bibles that there were at least fifty of them--the size ofmastodons.

  Palpitating in his sleeping bag in the midst of them, he may be excusedfor exaggeration, although, exactly, there were only eight of them.

  The cold sweat broke out on Mr. Appel and he thought that surely thethumping of his heart must attract their attention. In such mortalterror as he never had experienced or imagined he quaked while hespeculated as to whether the bear that first discovered him woulddisembowel him with one stroke of his mighty paw, and leave him, orwould scrunch his head between his paws and sit down and eat on him?

  But once the bears had located the supply-wagon, they went about theirbusiness like trained burglars. Standing on their hind legs, theycrowded about it, tearing open sacks, scattering food, tossing thingshither and thither, jostling each other and grunting when they foundsomething to their liking.

  Their grunting and quarrelling finally awakened Hicks and McGonnigle,who started up in their blankets, yelling. Their whoops arousedeverybody except old Mr. Penrose, who was sleeping with his deaf earuppermost and would not have heard a Big Bertha.

  Mr. Stott slipped on his brass knuckles and stood with his head out ofthe tent opening, adding his shouts to those of Hicks and McGonnigle,who, by now, were hurling such missiles as they could lay their handson. Instead of having hysterics as might have been expected, Aunt LizziePhilbrick astonished herself and others by standing out in the open withher petticoat over her nightgown, prepared to give battle with the heelof her slipper to the first bear that attacked her.

  It was not until Mr. Hicks got hold of two washbasins and used them ascymbals that the bears paid any attention. But this sound, added to thepandemonium of screaming women, finally frightened them. Then,scattering in all directions, they started back to the shadows.

  Suddenly Mr. Appel let out such a cry as seemed that it must not onlysplit his throat but rend the very heavens. Small wonder! A cinnamonbear weighing in the neighbourhood of eight hundred pounds planted itsleft hind foot in the pit of his stomach as it went galloping away tothe timber.

  In the brush where Mr. Penrose had been sleeping tranquilly other thingswere happening. In the midst of his slumbers, a dream in which hethought he was being dragged to the fire like a calf for branding cameto him. The dream grew so real that it awakened him. He received a swiftand unpleasant impression that he was moving, then he was startled tofind that he was not only moving, but moving so rapidly that the canvasbottom of his tent was scraping on the rocks and brush over which ittravelled.

  Mr. Penrose was enraged instantly. At best he had little patience withpractical jokers and none at all with one who had the impudence toawaken him. He called out angrily.

  The tent stopped moving and there was quiet.

  Mr. Penrose, who had raised himself on his elbow, laid down and wasabout to begin where he had left off when his domicile resumed itsjourney.

  Now thoroughly aroused, he sprang up and tore at the flap-fastenings.

  "This is going to stop right here!" he cried, furiously. "I do notappreciate this odious Western humour. You have chosen the wrong personto play your jokes on!"

  He reached for the pointed fish-pole which was lying in its case in thebottom of the tent and stepped through the opening.

  A burly figure in a big overcoat stood in the deep shadow confrontinghim.

  Mr. Penrose was bare-footed and his soles were tender but he advancedfar enough to bring the pole down with a thwack upon the head of theintruder.

  "Woof! Woof!"

  The answer raised his hair and galvanized his whiskers.

  "Woof! Woof!" A great paw fanned the air--he could feel the wind from itplainly as it reached out to cuff him--and the claws on the end of ittore the front of the flannel shirt in which he slept to ribbons.

  "Woof! Woof!" And then a roar that reverberated through the timber.

  Mr. Penrose swore afterward that the hot breath of the brute was in hisface, but the statement is open to question since at the first "Woof!"he had fallen into his tent backward.

  No one dreamed of the adventure Mr. Penrose was having until he appearedamong them with his shirt bosom in shreds and trembling like an aspen.In one hand he carried a sizeable chunk of bacon.

  "This," he cried, brandishing it, "is what I found tied to my teepee!"

  The explanation was obvious, someone had baited his tent for bear onpurpose, and, since there was no way of obtaining evidence against theculprit, Mr. Penrose in his unreasoning rage accused everybody.

  "Ever since I came, you have all had a pick on me!" He glared at them."You needn't think you're so smart I haven't seen it."

  Everyone was so surprised at the accusation that they could only stare,speechless, at him. With his white beard, rags, and bare-footed, Mr.Penrose looked like the Count of Monte Cristo telling the world what hewas going to do to it as he added, waving the bacon:

  "I'm going home to-morrow--to Delaware--back to my peach orchard--and ifany one of you ever say you know me--much less speak to me--I shall denyit. I'm done with the whole caboodle of you!"

  Protestations were useless and efforts to dissuade him from his purposeof leaving. The next morning he packed his bag and started down the roadwithout saying good-bye to any one.

  His departure reduced the party to half its original number, and thatwas bad enough, but when by lunch-time Mr. Appel had developed asoreness which led him to believe he was injured internally and shouldconsult a physician, the situation became infinitely worse to Wallie andPinkey.

  As a matter of course they expected his wife to accompany him, but whatthey had not known was that Miss Gaskett had been put in Mrs. Appel'scharge by her parents and in the light of her indiscreet conduct withMr. Stott it was deemed best that she should return with them.

  It was a terrible disappointment to Miss Gaskett, who cried bitterly andin an
unguarded moment told her age, approximately, sobbing that it waspreposterous that one of her years should not be permitted to finish atrip which she was so enjoying.

  But Mrs. Appel was obdurate, declaring that she did not care to take theresponsibility of leaving her without a proper chaperon, since AuntLizzie was too unworldly to be a safe guardian and Miss Eyester washerself unmarried.

  Miss Gaskett was compelled to succumb to the argument and the three weredriven to the nearest hotel after luncheon, leaving Wallie and Pinkeywith the sickening knowledge that now it was not possible to "breakeven," to say nothing of a profit. Every day they were out would putthem in debt a little deeper, but they both were agreed they wouldfinish the trip whatever happened.

  The evening was a gloomy one as compared to others, and although theybuilt a camp-fire as usual there was none of the customary gaiety aroundit.

  Mr. Stott sat alone on his saddle-blanket lost in meditation of a sombrenature, and Pinkey and Miss Eyester whispered apart.

  Wallie was in no mood for conversation, while Mr. Hicks, with thedelicacy which now marked his every action, smoked alone in the shadow,making no effort to intrude himself upon his betters. Even "Red"McGonnigle, reclining on his elbow staring into the embers, seemedpensive and disinclined to take advantage of the opportunity which thesilence gave him to hear his own voice. So only Aunt Lizzie Philbrickremained to give life to the party, and Aunt Lizzie, while a woman ofhigh principle and fine character, was, admittedly, not stimulating.

  Aunt Lizzie had snow-white hair drawn tightly from her forehead and acorpse-like pallor to match it. She could not possibly look anydifferent in her coffin, because so far as appearances went she mighthave been dead for a decade. Her manner was helpless, her voice gentleand hesitating, while in repose she ordinarily gave the impression ofbeing in a state of suspended animation.

  But to-night she was strangely restless, her thin white hands flutterednervously, and she moved her camp chair so often that everyone wonderedsilently what was the matter with her. There was a red spot on eithercheek which might have been the heat of the fire or excitement. At anyrate, it was plain to the least observant that Aunt Lizzie was perturbedby something.

  Finally, during one of her frequent movings, she inadvertently set theleg of her camp chair in a hole and went over backward. Mr. Hicks, whobounded from the shadow, was the first to reach her and everyone wasastonished to hear her cry, when he would have assisted her.

  "Don't touch me!"

  Everyone felt rather sorry for Hicks when he returned to his seatcrestfallen while Aunt Lizzie went off at a stiff-legged trot to herteepee without saying good-night to anybody.

  When some extraordinary accident was not befalling Aunt Lizzie, whoseemed the essence of mediocrity, she was always doing the unexpected,so little was thought of it after the first surprise at her rudeness,and the others shortly said good-night and retired also.

  Wallie stood alone by the dying camp-fire, wondering what the morrowmight hold for him--if any bad luck could come that had not alreadyhappened. If so, he could not imagine it, for it seemed he had run thegamut of misfortune.

  In this he was mistaken, for when they stopped at noon-day he received ablow from the last quarter he had expected--Aunt Lizzie.

  The day had not begun too auspiciously, for when something like twomiles on their journey Mr. Stott remembered that he had left his soap ona rock, and since it was expensive soap felt he must return for it. Hehad galloped the distance and back again, joining the party with hishorse sweating, and Wallie had warned him curtly that the day promisedto be a hot one and he must ride slowly.

  "_Please_ do not get ahead of the grub-wagon," Wallie had said withemphasis.

  Mr. Stott had done as requested just so long as it suited him, and thenpassing Wallie with a little laugh of defiance had raced to lead theprocession. In consequence, when Hicks pulled to the roadside for lunchsomewhat earlier than usual, Mr. Stott did not know it and continuedriding.

  The heat was terrific, and animals and humans suffered alike while thegypsum dust which rose in clouds added to the discomfort. Gnats andmosquitoes, deer-flies and "no-see-ems" attacked in clouds and asviciously as if they had double rows of teeth and rapiers. It was themost unpleasant day they had encountered, everyone's nerves were onedge, and there has been more gaiety in a mourner's carriage than in thesurrey where "Red" tried vainly to interest Aunt Lizzie.

  Wallie was too angry with Mr. Stott to care for luncheon, so after abite he betook himself to the shade of a tree, and sat down to smoke,with his back against it.

  He was thinking of the buckskin and how jaded it had looked that morningand wondering if its already stiffened shoulders would get over it if hepulled off its shoes and turned it into a soft pasture. His speculationswere interrupted by Aunt Lizzie, who stood before him twisting herfingers in embarrassment.

  A peerless beauty could not have passed unscathed through such amorning, but the havoc it had wrought in Aunt Lizzie's looks was nothingshort of startling.

  Her lids were inflamed and swollen from the bites of the "no-see-ems,"her nose was red, and her eyes watered from the gypsum dust whichaffected her like hay-fever, her sailor hat had slipped to the back ofher head and her "scolding locks" were hanging like a fringe over asoiled linen collar. One would have said that Aunt Lizzie could havetraversed the earth unmolested, not excepting the bandits because ofwhom she had fled Mexico.

  Something of the sort passed through Wallie's mind as he waited theexplanation of her obvious confusion.

  "I have something--very awkward--to say to you, Wallie."

  The harried expression which was becoming chronic leaped into his eyesat the introduction, as he asked himself what now might be portending.

  "It's rather indelicate to discuss with a gentleman," she continued,braiding her fingers.

  Wallie was alarmed but, anxious to set her at her ease, he saidencouragingly:

  "You can talk as freely to me as if I were your--father."

  He had not had time to visualize himself as Aunt Lizzie's father whenshe went on in a short-breathed fashion:

  "I fear that I shall have to leave you, Wallie, as soon as possible."

  Wallie's wonder grew, but he said nothing.

  "I think--I fear--I believe," she stammered, "that Mr. Hicks is of avery ardent temperament."

  Wallie could not have spoken now had he wanted to.

  "Since yesterday I have found him looking at me frequently in a peculiarmanner. Last night he stared at me with his burning eyes until I couldfeel his hypnotic influence. I hope--I trust you will believe I have notgiven him any encouragement?"

  Wallie's jaw, which had fallen, prevented him from reassuring her thathe believed her blameless.

  "So far, the tongue of scandal has never laid hands on me," shedeclared, mixing her metaphors in her agitation, "but I feel that it isa risk I should not take to travel about the country with a company ofmen and only an unmarried woman in the party."

  Wallie managed to mumble:

  "You are as safe here as if you were in a convent, Aunt Lizzie."

  It would have seemed from her expression that she preferred not to thinkso, however.

  "You understand how I feel, don't you?" she pleaded.

  "Perfectly! Perfectly!" Wallie replied, too dazed to make any otheranswer. He would have been only a little less astounded if the old ladyhad announced her intention of opening a dance-hall upon her return toProuty.

  Aunt Lizzie's desertion, and for such a reason, was the last thing hehad anticipated. It seemed like the final straw laid upon a back alreadybreaking. He watched her toddle away, and sat down again gloomily.

  At the supply-wagon Mr. Hicks was putting the food away, commentingprofanely upon the flies, the heat, the tardiness of Mr. Stott, theinjustice of things in general, and in particular the sordid necessitywhich obliged him to occupy this humble position when he was soeminently fitted to fill a higher one.

  He threw a stick at a "camp-robber" that ha
d flown down and taken apick at a plate on a stump which contained the lunch he had saved forMr. Stott, and his expression was so diabolic that it was the first timefor many days that he had looked natural.

  "Red" McGonnigle, with his hat over his face, dozed in the shade of thebed-wagon. Aunt Lizzie busied herself with preparations for departure.Miss Eyester perused the testimonials for a patent medicine contained ina pamphlet left by previous campers. Insects droned, heat wavesshimmered, the horses stood sleeping in their nose-bags. It was apeaceful noon-day scene, but Macpherson and Company, now sitting ontheir heels discussing their prospects, or lack of them, had no eye forit.

  One thought was uppermost, their bubble was punctured, they were worsethan ruined, for their horses and outfit were mortgaged almost up totheir value, and in addition, they had borrowed at the bank, counting onpaying off all their indebtedness when the Park trip was finished.

  "I s'pose I can git a job herdin' sheep--they's good money in it--butI'll be an old man before I can afford to git married, to say nothin' ofthe disgrace of it." Pinkey's voice sounded hopeless.

  The plaint gave Wallie such a pang that he could not answer, but with atwig played a game of tick-tack-toe in the dust, while he thoughtbitterly that no one could blame Helene Spenceley for preferring Canbyto a person who seemed destined to failure in whatever he attempted.

  He was another of the "four-flushers," he told himself, and the countrywas full of them, who just fell short of doing something and beingsomebody. Probably, in time, he would have no ambition beyond workingfor a "grub-stake" in summer so he could "shack up" in winter. He wouldlet his hair grow, and go sockless, and buy new clothes rather than washhis old ones, and eat from soiled dishes, and read mail-order cataloguesfor entertainment, and dog-gone it! why couldn't he bring himself tothink of marrying some respectable girl like the blacksmith's daughterthere in Prouty, who had no chin and a fine complexion and cooked likean angel and never said a cross word to anybody?

  Since Wallie was too uncommunicative to be interesting, Pinkey got upand left him to his reflections, remarking philosophically as hedeparted to join Miss Eyester:

  "Well, I never heard of anybody bein' hanged for owin' money, so I guessthere's no use in us goin' around with the double-breasted blues overit. We might as well whistle and say we like it."

  Wallie looked after his partner almost angrily.

  Oh, yes, it was well enough for him to talk about being cheerful and notworrying, but he guessed he would not be so chipper and so easilyresigned to disappointment if he had nothing more to which to lookforward than he had.

  The lugubrious voice of Mr. Hicks declaiming reached him:

  "Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling! The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter--and the bird is on the wing."

  That was the worst of it, Wallie thought despairingly. The Bird of Timehad but a little way to flutter. He was so old--twenty-seven! Therealization that he was still a failure at this advanced age increasedhis misery. He was a fool to go on hoping that he meant anything toHelene Spenceley or ever would; but, just the same--Wallie stood up andsquared his shoulders--if he couldn't have the woman he wanted therewouldn't be any other! He would sell his place for what he could get forit, pay his debts, and go to Tahiti and be a beach-comber, or toGuatemala and start a revolution, or live a hermit in the Arctic Circle,trapping for a fur company! He would do whatever he could to forget her.

  Then, suddenly, he wished that he was a little boy again and could siton Aunt Mary's lap and lay his head on her shoulder the way he used towhen he came home from school with a sick headache. It always hadcomforted him. A heartache was worse than a headache by a whole lot.Somehow he was so lonely--so inexpressibly lonely. He had not felt likethis even that first winter on his homestead.

  A lump rose in his throat to choke him, and he was about to turn awaylest someone see the mist in his eyes that blinded him, and that he felthorribly ashamed of, when the sound of hoofs attracted his attention andcaused him to grow alert in an instant.

  He was sure that it was Stott returning, and then he caught a glimpse ofhim through the trees--galloping.

  "Oh, here you are!" exclaimed that person, irritably, as he turned offthe road and came through the brush toward Wallie.

  There was a bright shine in Wallie's eyes as he walked toward him.

  "Why didn't you tell me you were going to camp in the middle of themorning?" Stott demanded in his rasping voice as he dismounted.

  Wallie returned evenly:

  "You know as well as I do that choosing a camp is left to Hicks'judgment. I told you not to get ahead of the supply-wagon."

  "If you think I'm going to poke along behind like a snail, you'remistaken!" Stott retorted.

  Wallie's face went white under its tan, though his voice was quietenough as he answered:

  "You'll 'poke' this afternoon, I'm thinking."

  Stott turned sharply.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Just what I said. Look at that horse!"

  The buckskin's head was hanging, its legs were trembling, there was nota dry hair on it and the sweat was running in rivulets. Its sides wereswollen at the stirrup where the spurs had pricked it, and the cornersof its mouth were raw and bleeding.

  Wallie continued and his voice now was savage:

  "You're one of the people, and there's plenty like you, that ought to beprevented by law from owning either a horse or a gun. This afternoonyou'll ride in the surrey or walk, as suits you."

  Stott laughed insolently.

  "Oh, I guess not!"

  Wallie calmly loosened the latigo.

  Stott took a step toward him with his heavy jaw thrust out and his handsought his hip pocket.

  "Don't you take the saddle off that horse!" His tone was menacing.

  A machine that had been purring in the distance passed, slowed up, andstopped a little way beyond the camp. Wallie heard it but did not lookto see whom it might be bringing, as in answer to Stott's threat hedropped the cinch and laid his hand upon the horn.

  "If you think I'm bluffing----"

  For answer, Wallie pulled off the saddle.

  Stott hesitated for the fraction of a second, then his arm shot out andWallie dropped heavily from the blow beneath the ear which Stott dealthim.

  There was a sharp cry behind him, but Wallie did not look around as,still dazed, he got to his feet slowly, with his eyes upon hisantagonist.

  "I warned you!" Stott chortled, and he put his hand behind him toconceal the brass knuckles he was wearing.

  Helene Spenceley was there; her voice had told him; but he took noaccount of that in the choking, blinding rage which now controlled him.

  Before Stott could use his cowardly weapon again Wallie sprang for him,and with the force and rapidity of a trained fighter landed blow afterblow on the heavy jaw which made a fine target.

  "You----horse-killer! You----braggart and cheapskate! You----shysterand ambulance chaser!" And with every epithet Wallie landed a punch thatmade the lawyer stagger.

  It was not "nice" language; it was not a "nice" thing to do, possibly,and perhaps the "soft answer" would have been better, but the time hadpassed when Wallie set any store by being merely "nice," and he hadforgotten Helene Spenceley's presence, though in any event it would havemade no difference.

  There was only one thought in his mind as he sat astride Stott's chestwhen Stott went down finally, and that was to make him say "Enough!" ifhe had to hammer him past recognition.

  This did not require so long as one would have thought, considering thatperson's boasts as to his courage, but, at that, Stott might well beexcused for wishing to end the punishment he was receiving. In the faceabove him, almost brutal in the fury that stamped it, there was no traceto remind Stott of the youth who had painted cabbage roses and knitsweaters.

  "Let me up!" he cried, finally, struggling under the merciless blowsthat rained upon him.

  "Say it
!" Wallie's voice was implacable.

  "'Nough!" Stott whined it.

  Wallie stopped immediately, and the attorney got to his feet, sullenand humiliated. He stood for a moment rubbing his neck and eyeingWallie; then with a return of defiance flung at him:

  "You'll pay for this, young fellow!"

  Wallie's short laugh was mocking.

  "Why don't you sue me for damages? I'd be flattered to death at theimplication that I had any money. It might help my credit."

  With a shrug he turned and walked toward Helene Spenceley. Her eyes wereshining, and there was a singular smile on her face as he went up toher, but whether she smiled or frowned did not seem to matter much toWallie.

  He was not a pretty sight at the moment, and he knew it. A lump hadrisen on his jaw and one eye was closing, his hair was powdered withgypsum dust, and the sleeve of his shirt was torn out at the shoulder,but he had no apologies to make for anything and there was that in hismanner which said so.

  Helene laughed as she put out her hand to him.

  "Was that a part of the regular programme or an impromptu feature of theday's entertainment?"

  "It's been brewing," Wallie replied, briefly.

  "Aren't you surprised to see me?"

  "Not particularly."

  "Or glad?"

  "I'm always that."

  "This came yesterday while I was in Prouty, and I volunteered to deliverit. I thought it might be important." She handed him a telegram.

  "That was good of you." His face softened a little, and still more as heread the message.

  He passed it to Helene:

  Will you come home if I tell you I was wrong and want you?

  AUNT MARY.

  Wallie mused softly:

  "It must have been hard for her to write that."

  "Will you go?" Helene asked, quickly.

  Wallie did not answer. He stood motionless, staring at the road wherethe heat waves shimmered, his absent gaze following a miniature cyclonethat picked up and whirled a little cloud of powdered gypsum, whileHelene waited.

  Her eyes were upon his face with an expression that would have arrestedhis attention if he had seen it, but he seemed to have forgotten her andher question.

  When he spoke, finally, it was to himself, rather, as if in denunciationof the momentary temptation which the telegram had been to him.

  "No!" emphatically, "I'm not going back like a prodigal who can't standthe gaff any longer! I won't slink into a soft berth because it'soffered, and admit that I'm not man enough to stand up and take whatcomes to me! I'm licked again--proper--and," harshly, "I don't expectanybody to believe in me, but I won't _stay_ licked if I can help it!"

  "I'm said to be a good 'picker,' and I've always believed in you,Wallace Macpherson," Helene said, slowly.

  He stared his incredulity, then replied with ungracious irony:

  "You've concealed it well."

  "Flattery is bad for growing boys," she smiled mischievously.

  "I'm sure you've never spoiled any one by it. You've treated me like ahound, mostly."

  Her eyes sparkled as she answered:

  "I like hounds, if they have mettle."

  "Even when they run themselves down following a cold trail?" he asked inself-derision.

  Her reply was interrupted by voices raised in altercation in thevicinity of the supply-wagon. A clump of bushes concealed thedisputants, but they easily recognized the rasping nasal tones of Mr.Stott and the menacing bellow peculiar to the cook in moments ofexcitement.

  The wrangle ended abruptly, and while Helene and Wallie stood wonderingas to what the silence meant, Pinkey with a wry smile upon his face cametoward them.

  "Well, I guess we're out of the dude business," he said, laconically.

  "What's the matter now?" Wallie demanded so savagely that the two burstout laughing.

  "Nothin' much, except that Hicks is runnin' Stott with the butcher-knifeand aims to kill him. I don't know as I blame him. He said his grub wasfull of ants and looked like scraps for Fido."

  Wallie was alarmed, but Pinkey reassured him.

  "Don't worry! He won't catch him, unless he's got wings, the gait Stottwas travellin'. He'll be at the hotel in about twenty minutes--it's onlyfive miles. What do you make of this, pardner?" Pinkey handed him a wornand grimy envelope as he added in explanation:

  "I found it stuck in the cupboard of the wagon."

  Wallie took the envelope, wondering grimly as he turned it over if therewas anything left that could surprise him. There was. On the back waswritten:

  Ellery Hicks INSULTED August 3rd, this year of our Lord, 1920.

  Below, in pencil, was a list of the party with every name crossed outsave Mr. Stott's, and at the bottom, ornamented with many curlicues andbeautifully shaded, was the significant sentence, with the date as yetblank:

  Ellery Hicks AVENGED, August ---- this year of our Lord, 1920.