Suddenly Mr. Appel let out such a cry as seemed that it must not only split his throat but rend the very heavens. Small wonder! A cinnamon bear weighing in the neighbourhood of eight hundred pounds planted its left hind foot in the pit of his stomach as it went galloping away to the timber.

In the brush where Mr. Penrose had been sleeping tranquilly other things were happening. In the midst of his slumbers, a dream in which he thought he was being dragged to the fire like a calf for branding came to him. The dream grew so real that it awakened him. He received a swift and unpleasant impression that he was moving, then he was startled to find that he was not only moving, but moving so rapidly that the canvas bottom of his tent was sc.r.a.ping on the rocks and brush over which it travelled.

Mr. Penrose was enraged instantly. At best he had little patience with practical jokers and none at all with one who had the impudence to awaken 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 was about to begin where he had left off when his domicile resumed its journey.

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

"This is going to stop right here!" he cried, furiously. "I do not appreciate this odious Western humour. You have chosen the wrong person to play your jokes on!"

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

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

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

"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 it plainly as it reached out to cuff him--and the claws on the end of it tore 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 his face, 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 appeared among 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 on purpose, and, since there was no way of obtaining evidence against the culprit, 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 he was 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 if any one of you ever say you know me--much less speak to me--I shall deny it. I'm done with the whole caboodle of you!"

Protestations were useless and efforts to dissuade him from his purpose of leaving. The next morning he packed his bag and started down the road without saying good-bye to any one.

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

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

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

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

Miss Gaskett was compelled to succ.u.mb to the argument and the three were driven to the nearest hotel after luncheon, leaving Wallie and Pinkey with the sickening knowledge that now it was not possible to "break even," to say nothing of a profit. Every day they were out would put them in debt a little deeper, but they both were agreed they would finish the trip whatever happened.

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

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

Wallie was in no mood for conversation, while Mr. Hicks, with the delicacy 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, seemed pensive and disinclined to take advantage of the opportunity which the silence gave him to hear his own voice. So only Aunt Lizzie Philbrick remained to give life to the party, and Aunt Lizzie, while a woman of high principle and fine character, was, admittedly, not stimulating.

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

But to-night she was strangely restless, her thin white hands fluttered nervously, and she moved her camp chair so often that everyone wondered silently what was the matter with her. There was a red spot on either cheek which might have been the heat of the fire or excitement. At any rate, it was plain to the least observant that Aunt Lizzie was perturbed by something.

Finally, during one of her frequent movings, she inadvertently set the leg of her camp chair in a hole and went over backward. Mr. Hicks, who bounded from the shadow, was the first to reach her and everyone was astonished to hear her cry, when he would have a.s.sisted her.

"Don't touch me!"

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

When some extraordinary accident was not befalling Aunt Lizzie, who seemed 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 morrow might hold for him--if any bad luck could come that had not already happened. If so, he could not imagine it, for it seemed he had run the gamut of misfortune.

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

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

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

Mr. Stott had done as requested just so long as it suited him, and then pa.s.sing Wallie with a little laugh of defiance had raced to lead the procession. In consequence, when Hicks pulled to the roadside for lunch somewhat earlier than usual, Mr. Stott did not know it and continued riding.

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

Wallie was too angry with Mr. Stott to care for luncheon, so after a bite 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 morning and wondering if its already stiffened shoulders would get over it if he pulled off its shoes and turned it into a soft pasture. His speculations were interrupted by Aunt Lizzie, who stood before him twisting her fingers in embarra.s.sment.

A peerless beauty could not have pa.s.sed unscathed through such a morning, but the havoc it had wrought in Aunt Lizzie's looks was nothing short 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 which affected her like hay-fever, her sailor hat had slipped to the back of her head and her "scolding locks" were hanging like a fringe over a soiled linen collar. One would have said that Aunt Lizzie could have traversed the earth unmolested, not excepting the bandits because of whom she had fled Mexico.

Something of the sort pa.s.sed through Wallie's mind as he waited the explanation of her obvious confusion.