"KNOCKING 'EM FOR A CURVE"
It had been put to a vote as to whether the party should make the trip
through the Yellowstone Park by motor, stopping at the hotels, or on
horseback with a camping outfit.
Mr. Stott, after the persuasive manner in which he addressed a jury,
argued:
"We can ride in automobiles at home. That is no novelty. Than horseback
riding, there is no more healthful exercise. We are all agreed that we
have had enough of hotels, while camping will be a new and delightful
experience. In the brief period that we shall lie next to nature's heart
we will draw strength from her bosom. By camping, we can loaf along in
leisurely fashion, taking our own time for seeing the wonders of the
Yellowstone, and fishing."
The programme he outlined was so sensible and attractive that everybody
was in favour of it strongly except old Mr. Penrose, who declared that
sleeping on the ground would give him rheumatism, and the fear that bugs
would crawl in his ears made him restless. Mr. Stott, however, overcame
his objection by assuring him that the ground was too dry to give any
one rheumatism and he could provide himself with cotton against the
other contingency.
The outlook for a successful trip from every viewpoint was most
promising, yet there were moments when Wallie had his doubts and
misgivings. He supposed that it was his experience in dry-farming which
had made him pessimistic concerning all untried ventures. Certainly it
had destroyed his beautiful, child-like faith in the teaching that the
hairs of his head were numbered and no harm could come to him. He had
noticed that everyone who ever had dry-farmed carried the scars
afterward. It was an unforgettable experience, like a narrow escape from
lynching.
Pinkey, on the contrary, had no sombre thoughts to disturb him. He was
filled with boundless enthusiasm; though this condition was chronic
since he had become engaged to Miss Eyester.
Pinkey, in love, was worse than useless. Escorting Miss Eyester was now
his regular business, with dude wrangling reduced to a side issue.
Therefore it had devolved upon Wallie to buy teepees, extra bedding,
food, and the thousand and one things necessary to comfort when camping.
It all had been accomplished finally, and the day came when the caravan
was drawn up beside the Prouty House ready to start toward the
Yellowstone.
A delighted populace blocked the sidewalk while they awaited the
appearance of Miss Gaskett's friend, Miss Mercy Lane, who had arrived on
a night train according to arrangement.
The cavalcade, if not imposing, was at least arresting. No one could
pass it yawning. There was no one who had come to see the party start
who did not feel repaid for the effort.
First, there was Mr. Hicks, driving four horses and the "grub-wagon,"
and leading the procession. He handled the lines with an aplomb
reminiscent of the coaching days of Reginald Vanderbilt, together with
the noble bearing of the late Ben Hur tooling his chariot. Mr. Hicks
dignified the "grub-wagon" to such an extent that it was a treat to look
at him.
Second in place was Pinkey, driving the tent-and-bed-wagon, with Miss
Eyester on the high spring-seat beside him. Behind Pinkey came "Red"
McGonnigle, driving a surrey provided for those who should become
fatigued with riding horseback. The vehicle, like the stage-coach, was a
bargain, sold cheaply by the original owner because of the weakness of
the springs, which permitted the body to hit the axle when any amount of
weight was put in it. This was a discovery they made after purchase.
Aunt Lizzie Philbrick was the only passenger, though it was anticipated
that Miss Mercy Lane would prefer to drive also, since she had had no
previous riding.
Behind the surrey was the riding party, even more startling than when
they had first burst upon Wallie in their bead-work and curio-store
trappings. Mr. Stott was wearing a pair of "chaps" spotted like a pinto,
while Mr. Budlong in flame-coloured angora at a little distance looked
as if his legs were afire.
Their ponies peered out shamefacedly through brilliant,
penitentiary-made, horse-hair bridles, and old Mr. Penrose was the envy
of everybody in a greasy, limp-brimmed Stetson he had bought from a
freighter. Also he had acquired a pair of 22-inch, "eagle's bill"
tapaderas. He looked like a mounted pirate, and, in his evil moments,
after sleeping badly, he acted like one.
Everyone was in high spirits and eager to get started. Mr. Stott
surreptitiously spurred his horse to make him cavort more spiritedly
before the spectators, and the horse responded in such a manner that the
rising young attorney was obliged to cling with both hands to the
saddle-horn.
When he came back, slightly paler, Wallie said curtly:
"You don't need spurs on that horse."
"I'm the best judge of that," Stott retorted.
Wallie said nothing further, for at the moment the crowd parted to
permit the passing of the newcomer from Zanesville, Ohio.
As he saw her, Wallie felt willing to renew his promise to Miss Gaskett
not to fall in love with her. Wallie was a charitable soul, and
chivalrous, but he could not but think that Miss Mercy, who was a
trained nurse, must have changed greatly since she and Miss Gaskett were
school-girls.
She wore a masculine hat with a quill in it and a woollen skirt that
bagged at the knees like trousers. Her hair was thin at the temples, and
she wore gold glasses astride her long, "foxy" nose. Although no average
cake would have held the candles to which Miss Mercy's birthdays
entitled her, she was given to "middy" blouses and pink sweaters.
"Merce has such a unique personality that I am sure you are going to
enjoy her," beamed Miss Gaskett in presenting Wallie.
Wallie murmured that he had no doubt of it, and boosted Miss Mercy into
the surrey.
With nothing further to detain them, Mr. Hicks swung his lash and the
four went off at a gallop, with the cooking utensils in the rear
rattling so that it sounded like a runaway milk-wagon.
He had been instructed to drive ahead and select a suitable place for
the noon-day luncheon in order that everything should be in readiness
upon their arrival, but to the others Wallie had suggested that they
ride and drive more slowly to save the horses.
In spite of Wallie's request, however, Mr. Stott, seeing the cook
getting ahead, started off at a gallop to overtake him. In no uncertain
voice Wallie called to him.
"You will oblige me if you will ride more slowly," Wallie said, speaking
very distinctly when Mr. Stott came back to ask what was wanted.
"Why, what's the matter?"
His feigned innocence added to Wallie's anger.
"I don't want that horse ruined."
"I am paying for him," Stott returned, insolently.
"I still own him, and it's my privilege to say how he shall be ridden."
Stott dropped back suddenly but Wallie foresaw trouble with him before
the trip was finished, though he meant to hold his temper as long as
possible.
The reprimand had a beneficial effect upon the other equestrians, who
had contemplated dashing after Mr. Stott, but now concluded to jog along
at a reasonable gait, working off their superfluous energy in asking
questions. Did eagles really carry off children? And was the earth under
the Yellowstone Park hollow?
In the surrey "Red" McGonnigle was putting forth his best efforts to
entertain Aunt Lizzie and Miss Mercy, which he considered as much a part
of his duties as driving.
A portion of the road was through a canon, cut from the solid rock in
places, with narrow turnouts, and a precipitous descent of hundreds of
feet to a sinister-looking green river roaring in the bottom.
"Now, here," said Mr. McGonnigle, as they entered it, lolling back in
the seat and crossing his legs in leisurely fashion, "is where there's
been all kinds of accee-dents."
He pointed with the stub of a buggy-whip:
"About there is where four horses on a coal-wagon run away and went
over. Two was killed and one was crippled so they had to shoot it."
"Oh, how dread-ful!" Aunt Lizzie exclaimed, nervously.
Miss Mercy's contralto voice boomed at him:
"What happened to the driver?"
"His bones was broke in a couple of dozen places, but they picked him
up, and sence, he has growed together."
Miss Mercy snickered.
"You see that p'int ahead of us? Onct a feller ridin' a bronc backed off
there. They rolled two hundred feet together. Wonder it didn't kill
'em."
Aunt Lizzie was twisting her fingers and whispering:
"Oh, how dread-ful!"
"Jest around that bend," went on the entertainer, expectorating with
deliberation before he continued, "a buggy tried to pass a hay-wagon. It
was a brand-new buggy, cost all of $250, and the first time he'd took
his family out in it. Smashed it to kindlin' wood. The woman threw the
baby overboard and it never could see good out of one eye afterward. She
caught on a tree when she was rollin' and broke four ribs, or some such
matter. He'd ought to a-knowed better than to pass a hay-wagon where it
was sidlin'. Good job, says I, fer havin' no judgment though I was one
of his pall-bearers, as an accommodation."
Aunt Lizzie was beyond exclaiming, and Miss Mercy's toes were curling
and uncurling, though she preserved a composed exterior.
After setting the brake, McGonnigle went on humorously, gesticulating
spaciously while the slack of the lines swung on the single-tree:
"On this here hill the brake on a dude's automo-bubbly quit on him. When
he come to the turn he went on over. Ruined the car, plumb wrecked it,
and it must a cost $1,500 to $2,000. They shipped his corp' back East
somewhere."
Pale, and shaking like an aspen, Aunt Lizzie clung tightly to Miss
Mercy. The scenery was sublime, but they had no eye for it. Their gaze
was riveted upon the edge of the precipice some six or eight inches from
the outer wheels of the surrey, and life at the moment looked as sweet
as it seemed uncertain.
Driving with one hand and pointing with the other, McGonnigle went on
with the fluency for which he was celebrated:
"That sharp curve we're comin' to is where they was a head-on collision
between a chap on a motorcycle and a traction en-jine they was takin'
through the canon. He was goin' too fast, anyhow--the motorcycle--and it
jest splattered him, as you might say, all over the front of the
en-jine."
Mr. McGonnigle put the lines between his knees and gripped them while he
readjusted his hat with one hand and pointed with the other:
"You see that hangin' rock? There where it sticks over? Well, sir, two
cayuses tryin' to unload their packs bounced off there and----"
A shriek in his ear interrupted McGonnigle at this juncture. He turned,
startled, to see Aunt Lizzie with her fingers in her ears screaming that
she was going to have hysterics.
To prove that she was a woman of her word, she had them, while Mr.
McGonnigle, utterly unconscious that he was the cause, regarded her in
astonishment.
"She's got a fit," he said to Wallie, who hurried forward.
"He's scared her out of her wits," declared Miss Mercy, glaring at him.
"Me?"
"You! You're a careless driver. I don't believe you understand horses,
and I shan't ride any further with you."
"Red" jammed the whip in its socket and wrapped the lines around it.
Springing over the wheel he stood by the roadside and declared
defiantly:
"I'm quittin'. Hate to leave you in a pinch, Wallie, but I take sass
from no female. I'd ruther herd sheep than wrangle dudes, anyhow. I
tried to be entertainin', and this is the thanks I git fer it."
"Nobody asked you to talk," Miss Mercy snapped at him.
Wallie succeeded in pacifying "Red" finally and suggested that he and
Pinkey exchange places. Pinkey consented reluctantly, and "Red" climbed
upon the seat of the bed-wagon with a dark look at the "female" who had
questioned his knowledge of horses, while he mumbled something about
"fixin' her."
By ten-thirty food was the chief topic of conversation, and everyone was
keeping an eye out for Hicks and the "grub-wagon." At eleven the
hilarity had simmered to monosyllables, and old Mr. Penrose, who always
became incredibly cross when he was hungry, rode along with his face
screwed up like a bad youngster that is being carried out of church for
a spanking in the vestibule.
"I'm so weak I can scarcely sit in the saddle!" Mrs. J. Harry Stott
snapped at Wallie as if she held him responsible.
"I'm simply ravenous--starving!" declared Mrs. Budlong. She also looked
at him accusingly.
By eleven-thirty they were all complaining bitterly that the cook had
been allowed to get so far ahead that they should all perish of hunger
before they could overtake him. Mr. Stott galloped ahead as if he were
pursued by hostile Indians to see if he could see Hicks, and galloped
back again to say that he could not.
At twelve the animals in a zoo just before feeding time had "nothing on"
The Happy Family when it came to ferocity, but they brightened
immediately as they finally caught a glimpse of Hicks' camp-fire, and
grew almost cheerful when they saw him cutting bread on the lowered
tail-board of the wagon, where the lunch was waiting for them.
The spot he had selected could not truthfully be called ideal, viewed
from any angle, since there was no shade and the sand, sizzling hot,
reflected the glare of the mid-day sun as painfully as a mirror. None,
however, had the temerity to offer any criticism to Mr. Hicks
personally, for his vitriolic tongue had long since properly subjugated
even the rambunctious attorney.
The "dudes" dismounted stiffly and stood at a respectful distance,
sniffing the bubbling coffee and watching the cook slice ham with a
knife that had a blade like the sword of a Crusader.
Mr. Hicks had an alert, suspicious manner as if he feared that someone
would jump forward and snatch something before he had given the signal.
When the operation of bread-slicing was completed, Mr. Hicks stuck the
point of the knife in the tail-board and, gripping the handle, struck a
pose like that of the elder Salvini, while in a sonorous voice he
enumerated the delicacies he had to offer. It sounded like a roll-call,
and his tone was so imperative that almost one expected the pickles and
cheese to answer--"present."
"Come and get it!" he finished, abruptly, and retired to sit down under
sagebrush as if he were disgusted with food and people who ate it. There
Wallie joined him and from the vantage point watched his guests eat
their first meal in the open.
If there was one thing upon which The Happy Family at The Colonial had
prided itself more than another it was upon its punctilious observance
of the amenities. There were those among the "newcomers" who averred
that they carried their elaborate politeness to a point which made them
ridiculous. For example, when two or more met at the door of the
elevator they had been known to stand for a full minute urging
precedence upon the other, and no gentleman, however bald or susceptible
to draughts, would converse with a lady with his head covered.
Now Wallie felt that his eyes must have deceived him when Mr. Budlong
prodded Miss Eyester in the ribs with his elbow in his eagerness to get
in ahead of her, while old Mr. Penrose reached a long arm over Aunt
Lizzie Philbrick's shoulder and took away a piece of apple pie upon
which she already had closed her fingers.
When Miss Gaskett and Mr. Appel chanced to select the same slice of ham
neither seemed disposed to relinquish it but displayed considerable
spirit as they pulled until it gave way in its weakest sector, leaving
Mr. Appel with only an inch of fat between his thumb and finger. He
regarded his portion with chagrin while Miss Gaskett went off
triumphantly to make a sandwich.
Mr. Stott with his usual enterprise and shrewdness had gotten next to
the tail-board, where he stood munching and reviewing the food with an
eye to his next selection. He was astonished to see Miss Mercy's alpine
hat rising, as it were, from the earth at his feet to crowd him from his
desirable position. As she stood up she jabbed him in the nostril with
the quill, and Mr. Stott gave ground before he realized it. Miss Mercy
snickered in appreciation of the cleverness of her manoeuvre.
As Wallie observed them while waiting his opportunity to get a dill
pickle or whatever crumb they might leave him, he thought grimly that if
they had been without food for twenty-four hours instead of less than
half a dozen, they would have been close to cannibalism. He, for one,
would not care to be adrift in an open boat with Mrs. Budlong--hungry
and armed with a hatchet--while Stott, he was sure would murder him for
a frankfurter in those circumstances.
Aunt Lizzie, to whom accidents of an unusual nature seemed always to be
happening, wandered off with a wedge of pie and a cup of coffee and sat
down on an ant-hill.
While she sipped her coffee and drank in the scenery simultaneously, the
inhabitants of the hill came out in swarms to investigate the monster
who was destroying their home. They attacked her with the ferocity for
which red ants are noted, and she dropped her pie and coffee and ran
screaming to the wagon.
Fearful that she would be pursued by them, she got into the surrey,
where she became involved in a quarrel with Miss Mercy, who was eating
her lunch there.
Miss Mercy caught a butterfly that lighted on a seat-cover and pulled
off first one wing and then the other in spite of Aunt Lizzie's
entreaties. She dropped it on the bottom of the surrey and put her
astonishingly large foot upon it.
"There," she snickered, "I squashed it."
Aunt Lizzie, to whom anything alive was as if it were human, wrung her
hands in anguish.
"I think you are horrid!"
"What good is it?"
"What good are you, either? I shan't ride with you." Aunt Lizzie climbed
into the third seat of the surrey, where she refused to answer Miss
Mercy when she spoke to her.
The rest and food freshened the party considerably but by four o'clock
they were again hungry and drooping in their saddles. Only Mr. Stott,
endowed, as it seemed, with the infinite wisdom of the Almighty,
retained his spirits and kept up an unending flow of instructive
conversation upon topics of which he had the barest smattering of
knowledge. Constantly dashing off on his part to investigate gulches and
side trails caused Wallie's smouldering wrath to burn brighter, as the
buckskin hourly grew more jaded.
Complaints increased that their horses were hard-gaited, and the voices
of the ladies held plaintive notes as they declared their intention of
riding in the surrey when they overtook it. Pinkey was stopped finally,
and his passengers augmented by the addition of Mrs. Stott, Miss
Gaskett, and Mrs. Budlong, who carefully folded their jackets to sit on.
At five o'clock Mr. Stott raced forward and returned to announce that
Hicks had camped just around the bend of the river.
"You're wearing that horse out, Stott," said Wallie, coldly.
"He's feeling good--watch him!" cried the lawyer, gaily, putting spurs
to the horse and disappearing.
It was a beautiful camping spot that Hicks had selected, though "Red"
McGonnigle grumbled that it was not level enough for the teepees.
Old Mr. Penrose, who had fallen off his horse rather than dismounted,
declared he was so tired that he could sleep on the teeth of a harrow,
like a babe in its cradle.
"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 ambassador, 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.