HIPPY PAYS THE PIPER
“Why didn’t you get me out last night?” demanded the fat boy after his
uncle had paid the fine and the party were on their way back to camp.
“I will talk with you later, young man,” answered Hippy briefly.
“Elfreda, you do know how to handle a witness. Why, you could have
gotten Stacy out had he not been questioned.”
Elfreda shook her head, and she and Tom walked on ahead to talk, while
Lieutenant Wingate engaged his nephew in earnest conversation. When they
arrived at the camp a warm welcome awaited Stacy Brown.
“Meet me with food,” shouted Chunky.
“Come, girls! Let’s kill the fatted calf in celebration of the
prodigal’s return,” cried Grace.
“No, no!” protested Emma Dean with mock seriousness. “If you must
sacrifice someone why not take Jim Badger? I don’t believe that either
we or the world would miss him. Kill the fatted calf? Never!” finished
Emma amid the laughter of her companions.
“That’s right. Abuse me all you wish, but give me something to eat. I
haven’t had a thing to eat except a package of gum, since yesterday
noon,” complained Stacy.
“Your breakfast is already on the fire,” answered Grace. A few moments
later Stacy was eating ravenously, rolling his eyes and listening to the
story of the hearing, as related by Tom Gray. In the meantime Grace and
Elfreda were talking together in low tones.
“I believe, since the hearing, that your suspicions are right,” declared
Miss Briggs. “I didn’t think so before the hearing, but I do now.”
“Come here, you folks,” called Hippy. “We are about to hold a family
council. The question is, what would you advise that we do with Stacy?
If he continues to mix things up the Overland Riders will, sooner or
later, be involved in serious difficulties.”
“I should say that a warning now, to be followed by sending him home if
he causes any further worry for us, would be the wise course,” spoke up
Tom.
“No, no,” protested Emma. “Think what a lot of entertainment we should
miss. We intellectual persons need a foil—some brainless person to
furnish light entertainment for us. My suggestion is that we appoint a
guardian for Stacy—a guardian who will be responsible for him and whom
he must obey.”
“You win,” cried Hippy amid laughter.
“I move that we appoint Emma Dean guardian _ad lib._, with full power to
control all his activities,” said J. Elfreda in her most severe legal
tone.
“Ad who?” frowned Stacy.
“_Ad libitum_, a Latin term, meaning ‘at pleasure’” answered Elfreda.
“I thank you, but fear that the task is too great,” murmured Emma.
“You can’t refuse. Remember, we agreed long ago that the majority should
rule in the Overland outfit. Are we all in favor of Emma Dean as Stacy
Brown’s guardian?” cried Grace.
“Yes!” shouted the Overland Riders.
“We promise to see to it that your ward ever honors and obeys,” added
Elfreda.
“I won’t do it,” retorted Stacy belligerently.
“I accept,” announced Emma, after slight hesitation. “I will exercise my
new authority right now. Stacy, you look a fright. Go wash your face and
comb your hair instantly.”
“I won’t do it!” challenged the fat boy.
“Run along like a good little boy,” urged Emma. “Here’s a nice piece of
candy for you for being good,” persisted the girl mercilessly, the
freckles on her frivolous little nose standing out more prominently than
ever.
“Young man, did you hear what your guardian said?” demanded Hippy.
“I heard, but I won’t do it,” retorted Stacy stubbornly, whereupon Hippy
led him by one ear to a pail of water, and stood by until his nephew had
thoroughly washed his face and hands.
The Overlanders were convulsed with laughter, and Stacy’s face was red
with humiliation.
“It’s too bad to treat him so,” declared Nora laughingly.
“No. It is what he needs,” answered Elfreda. “Stacy is getting his
punishment, and, if I know his guardian, there is still more coming to
him. Let’s go! I want to ride.”
It was a quiet and thoroughly subdued Stacy who accompanied them on
their ride that day, though Emma Dean’s motherly solicitude for him,
even to the extreme of cutting up his bacon at luncheon, filled his soul
with resentment, and the hearts of the others with joy. Jim Badger
finally reminded them that it was time to start back to camp.
Miss Briggs suggested that it was also time they moved to another
camping place, and asked the guide where he would advise making a new
camp. He said he would let them know that night or on the following
morning.
“Why the delay?” interjected Grace.
“Because I want to make inquiries about trails and the like. I don’t
know everything about this Park—nobody does,” he added, as they mounted
and started away. The Overlanders acquiesced, content to let the guide
make the arrangements to suit himself.
Late in the day they approached the Springs Hotel at a brisk gallop and
Hippy, now in great good humor, suggested that they show the guests of
the hotel how the Overlanders could ride.
“Everyone do her prettiest,” he called.
For the first time that day Stacy Brown, scenting an opportunity to
distinguish himself, began to take a lively interest in their
activities.
“Little boy, be careful that you don’t fall off,” warned Emma as they
neared the hotel, the Riders presenting a snappy appearance, each one
rigidly sitting his saddle, right arm hanging at the side, left hand
lightly resting on the reins.
The hotel veranda was crowded with tourists, as the dinner hour was
approaching. Some of the guests gathered there already knew who the
Overlanders were, and a burst of hand clapping greeted their arrival.
Stacy Brown, laboring under his not infrequent delusion that he was the
whole show, rose in his stirrups, hat in hand, the bridle-rein trailing
on the pony’s neck, as he swept into the drive that led past the
veranda. When directly opposite it Stacy’s mount stumbled in a rut. At
that moment, the fat boy, who was standing in his stirrups, suddenly
looked startled and emitted a howl, and as the pony’s nose struck the
dust, the boy left his saddle with a neat, curving dive. He landed on
his shoulders and flopped over on his back, accompanied by cries of
alarm and laughter from the guests.
Three men from the veranda ran to him.
“Are you hurt?” questioned one.
The boy eyed his questioner out of the corner of one eye, and getting up
with an effort began brushing the dust from his clothing.
“Certainly not. Falling off a horse is fine exercise before meals. It
gives one an appetite. You should try it yourself,” returned Stacy.
“I reckon that boy gave you what you deserve,” said one of the man’s
companions laughingly.
The Overland Riders, in the meantime, trotted their horses around behind
the hotel where they gave way to their merriment, and there they were
joined by Stacy a few minutes later. His face was red, his nose was
skinned, and he was complaining bitterly because his companions had
deserted him.
“Stacy Brown, you’re a sight. Go into the hotel this moment and wash
your face,” directed Emma in her severest tone.
“I’m going to, but not because you say so. I’m going to wash because I
need it.”
“That’s a dear good boy,” approved Emma. “For that I shall buy you an
ice cream cone.”
“Thanks,” grinned Stacy, hitching his horse.
“Suppose we all have dinner at the hotel,” suggested Grace, which
suggestion was eagerly welcomed. “Jim, you go on to camp and take care
of the horses. We will walk back after dinner.”
“Before going farther, I wish to say that Stacy must apologize to the
gentleman to whom he made the rude remark,” reminded Emma.
To this the fat boy made no reply, but after the Overlanders had brushed
the dirt from their clothes and started for the front of the hotel, Emma
stepped up beside him and gently tugged at his sleeve. “There sits the
gentleman now. Go and apologize to him,” she directed.
Stacy nodded, and, reaching the veranda, he walked up to the man to whom
he had made the discourteous remark.
“I am sorry, sir, that I answered you discourteously when you came out
to see if I was hurt,” said Stacy humbly.
“Eh?”
Chunky repeated his apology.
“Oh! You are the young man who came a cropper,” answered the gentleman,
laughing good-naturedly.
“No, sir. I am the rider that took a high dive from my horse. I—I didn’t
mean to be discourteous. I apologize.”
“Don’t speak of it, young man,” answered the gentleman cordially.
“Thank you, I won’t. Just the same, I think that a dive like that before
each meal might reduce your flesh and do you a lot of good,” added the
fat boy, eyeing the rather corpulent gentleman critically.
The Overland Riders groaned, for Stacy had undone whatever good he might
have accomplished. Instead of being disturbed at Stacy’s remark,
however, the gentleman introduced himself, saying that he was Colonel
Scott, President of the C. V. & A. Railroad. Stacy then introduced him
to “Grace Harlowe Gray’s Overland Riders.”
“Eh? Grace Harlowe Gray?” repeated the colonel reflectively. “Where have
I heard that name? I seem to know it well, and yet—” He regarded the
flushed face of Grace with inquiring gaze. “No, there is nothing
familiar to me in that face, but somehow the name revives old memories.
Do I know you?”
Grace laughed.
“I believe you have never seen me before, sir.”
“But the name is so familiar,” persisted the colonel.
“I am not at all amazed at that, sir, for under that name I once sent
you a message that might have been, and probably was, construed as
impudent,” she said, flushing still more deeply.
“Eh?” Colonel Scott looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. I—”
“You were Master of Transportation of the Northern Railroad in France,
were you not, sir?” suggested Grace demurely.
“Yes. But—”
“And I sent you—”
“I have it! I have it!” cried the colonel springing up and grasping both
of Grace Harlowe’s hands in his. “Know you? I should say I do, and now
that I am face to face with you, young woman, you are going to get a
grilling that I have had in store for you ever since near the close of
the World War.”