Part 43 (2/2)

”We'll be all right when we get seasoned,” said Mr. Appel, cheerfully, hunting in his wife's handbag for the vaseline.

”You couldn't have a better place to start in at,” ”Red” commented, grimly.

On the whole, the day might be regarded as a pleasant one, and if the remainder of the trip equalled it, there was no doubt but that the party would return satisfied, which meant that they would advertise it and the next season would be even more successful.

Everyone carried wood to build a camp-fire after supper, but by the time they had it going they were too sleepy to sit up and enjoy it. They stumbled away to their several teepees with their eyes half closed and for the first time since they had known each other failed to say ”pleasant dreams!” when separating for the night.

Mr. Stott lingered to regale Pinkey and Wallie for the fourteenth time with the story of the hoot-owl which had frightened him while hunting in Florida, but since it was received without much enthusiasm and he was not encouraged to tell another, he, too, retired to crawl between his blankets and ”sleep on Nature's bosom” with most of his clothes on.

”I wouldn't wonder but that we'll have to hit him between the horns before the trip is over,” Pinkey remarked, looking after Stott.

Wallie said nothing, but his face spoke for him.

Pinkey continued in a tone of satisfaction:

”Outside of him, everything's goin' splendid. The Yellowstone Park is the fightin'est place anybody ever heard of. I've seen life-time friends go in there campin' and come out enemies--each one sittin' on his own grub-box and not speakin'. But it don't look as if we was goin'

to have any serious trouble--they're nice people.”

”And they think the world of me,” Wallie reiterated.

”I've been thinkin' I could lose the horses for two or three days and that would count up considerable. Ten dudes at $5.00 a day for three days, say---- Oh, we're sittin' pretty! We'll come out of this with a roll as big as a gambler's.”

”It _looks_ encouraging,” Wallie replied more guardedly, though in his heart he was sharing Pinkey's optimism.

They kicked out the camp-fire and rolled up in their respective blankets, Pinkey to die temporarily, and Wallie to lie awake listening to the roar of the river and speculating as to whether Helene Spenceley had any special prejudice against the dude business.

Of course, he admitted, had he a choice in the matter, he would have preferred to have been an amba.s.sador, a lawyer of international reputation, even a great artist; but for a start, as the foundation of a fortune, dudes were at least as good as _herring_.

With this consoling thought, Wallie turned over on a pillow which would have engaged the earnest attention of the most lax health officer, and fell into a contented slumber.

CHAPTER XXIII

RIFTS

Before the birds had taken their heads from under their wings Miss Mercy Lane was up and cras.h.i.+ng through the brambles on a hunt for ”Red”

McGonnigle.

It was a morning to thrill the soul of a taxi-cab driver, but it had no interest for Miss Mercy. The dew on the petals of the wild-rose, the opaline tints of a sweet-scented dawn meant nothing to that lady as, without a collar, her s.h.i.+rt-waist wrongly b.u.t.toned, her hair twisted into a hard ”Psyche” knot, she searched for her enemy.

In her earnest desire to get in touch with Mr. McGonnigle as soon as possible, she clumped about, peering into the faces of the helpers, who had thrown their tarps down upon whatever spot looked a likely place for sleeping.

Pinkey she found without difficulty; also Mr. Hicks, who, awakened by the feeling that someone was looking at him, sat up and in a scandalized tone told her to go right away, from him. ”Red” McGonnigle, however, whether by accident or premeditation, had repaired with his blankets to a bed-ground where the Almighty could not have found him with a spy-gla.s.s. In consequence, Wallie was awakened suddenly by the booming voice of Miss Mercy demanding to know Red's whereabouts.

Her lids were puffed as if she had not closed them, and through the slits her eyes gleamed at him. She looked so altogether formidable as she stood over him that his first impulse was to duck his head under the covers.

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