Produced by Rod Crawford and Roger Frank
“Get back, Ye Houn’!”
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Grace Harlowe’s Overland Riders
in the Yellowstone National Park
by Jessie Graham Flower, A. M.
Illustrated
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Akron, Ohio—New York
Made in U. S. A.
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Copyright MCMXXIII
by the Saalfield Publishing Company
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CONTENTS
Chapter I—The Overlanders Get a Shock
The arrival at Cinnabar. “It takes more than a sign to make a hotel.” The guide is missing. Stacy goes to look for Jake Coville and meets with a distressing experience. The stock car yields an amazing surprise. “Those are not our ponies!” cries Nora.
Chapter II—The Wires Bring Bad News
The mystery of the missing ponies. Overland Riders left without a guide or a horse. Hippy makes the telegraph wires “sing.” A fine display of temper. Lieutenant Wingate, in his bare feet, chases a telegraph messenger from camp.
Chapter III—On the Road to Wonderland
Emma Dean declines to kiss a horse. The Overland men go in search of new mounts. Hippy delivers an oration. Stacy avers that someone is always taking the joy out of life. Jim Badger engages himself to guide the party.
Chapter IV—Unbidden Guests in Camp
Overland Riders are awakened by the fat boy’s yells. Grizzly bears invade the camp. Stacy shoots and misses. Park guards descend on the Overland camp in search of the “shooter.” “You are all under arrest!” announces Trooper White.
Chapter V—Stacy Gets Another Shock
“Strike your camp!” orders the Park guard. Overland Riders are arraigned before the commanding officer. Chunky admits that he missed the bear he shot at. “Fifty dollars” gasps the fat boy. Tom Gray delivers a brief lecture. A scene that delighted and mystified.
Chapter VI—The Infant Geyser Gets Busy
Stacy is fascinated by the baby “spouter.” The fat boy’s actions arouse the Overlanders’ suspicions. “He’s done it! He’s done it” wails Nora. Stacy is enveloped in a cloud of steam as the “Infant Geyser” blows up. A thrilling message from Chunky.
Chapter VII—In the Toils
Overlanders learn that Stacy Brown is in jail. Emma thinks it will prove beneficial to the fat boy. Accused of blowing up the “Infant Geyser.” Elfreda Briggs appoints herself Stacy’s lawyer, and gains some valuable information.
Chapter VIII—Hippy Pays the Piper
Emma Dean objects to “killing the fatted calf.” Overlanders hold a family council and appoint Emma as the fat boy’s guardian. Stacy rebells. Chunky comes a cropper. Colonel Scott hears a familiar name. “I know you, young woman! I should say I do!”
Chapter IX—Robbers Leave a Trail
A robbery at the Springs Hotel excites the guests. Hippy and Grace investigate on their own account. Lieutenant Wingate loses the trail. “Even the bears have ears.” Grace forecasts a great surprise for the Overland Riders.
Chapter X—At It Again
“There’s no accountin’ for bear,” declares Jim Badger. Grace and Hippy complimented on their keenness. Park guards are put on the trail of the thieves. A stroll among the steaming pools brings disaster. Stacy disappears from sight.
Chapter XI—Stacy Gets into Hot Water
“He isn’t very badly off or he couldn’t make a noise like that.” Rescued and laughed at. Emma regrets that the fat boy did not stay in until thoroughly done. An adventurous climb ahead of the Overlanders. Revolver shots and yells from Chunky disturb the sleeping camp.
Chapter XII—“A High Crime”
Night prowlers take away the fat boy’s “pants” and his money. Jim Badger takes a shot at the robbers. “I want my fifty cents,” wails Chunky. Thieves miss more than they get. Lieutenant Wingate saves his watch.
Chapter XIII—The Heart of the Tempest
Stacy not so full of scenery that he has no room for food. A hired man who wrote “pomes” comes to grief. Elfreda objects to a snoring Overlander. Two storms meet over the Overland camp. “Lie down, everyone!”
Chapter XIV—Overtaken by Disaster
Tents and campfire blow away. A bolt from the clouds stuns the Overland Riders. Lieutenant Wingate is strangely missing. A dizzy slide down the sloping rocks. “I reckon the mountain must have fallen on me.” The “laziest man in the Yellowstone.”
Chapter XV—A Strange Experience
Electric Peak affects the Overlanders peculiarly. Stacy’s heart “beats all.” Grace admits to feeling “queer.” “There’s something peculiar about this place,” cries Tom Gray. Stacy plunges over the edge of the mountain.
Chapter XVI—A Mountain of Distress
“He’s killed! He’s killed!” A rescue that is accomplished with difficulty. Overland Riders conclude that they have had enough of the mysterious mountain. Jim Badger has news for his charges. “There’s been another robbery down to the Springs Hotel,” he tells them.
Chapter XVII—Greasing the Geyser
Suspiciously acting strangers spy on the Overland camp. Stacy suggests that they forget their troubles in food. The guide gives the fat boy a suggestion. Awed by “Old Faithful Geyser.” Bears hot on the trail of the fat boy.
Chapter XVIII—Pajamas Float on High
Tom and Hippy face the angry bears and play a trick on them. Stacy Brown, in trying to capture a cub, gets into difficulties. Laundry work is done in the geyser basin. The fat boy up to mischief. “Somebody help me get my ‘pants’!” wails the fat boy.
Chapter XIX—Fish Cooked on the Hook
The “Little Fountain” holds fast to Overland laundry things. Coyotes howl all night in the Geyser Basin. The Overlanders catch trout and cook them in a boiling spring. “I’ve just been making a monkey of you folks,” declares Stacy.
Chapter XX—Wonders of the Grand Canyon
The rougher the time the better the Overland Riders like it. Emma decides that there is nothing in the brain-food theory. “All girls are ’fraid cats,” declares Chunky. In a dash down the canyon Emma proves that they are not.
Chapter XXI—Conclusion
Signal whistles in the night. A mysterious prowler runs away. Hippy makes a discovery, the full meaning of which he is to learn later on. Visitors call at the Overland camp. Bandits arrested upon lieutenant Wingate’s disclosures.
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GRACE HARLOWE’S OVERLAND RIDERS IN THE YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK
CHAPTER I
OVERLANDERS GET A SHOCK
“Here we are again,” cried Lieutenant Hippy Wingate. “Cinnabar! All out for Cinnabar, the gateway to the great Yellowstone National Park. Get busy, you Overlanders, or you’ll be left.”
“Cinnabar! It sounds like something good to eat,” declared Stacy Brown. “The town doesn’t look as if it could furnish much food worthwhile,” he added, peering from the car window as he munched an apple.
“Perhaps not for an appetite such as yours,” retorted Emma Dean. “Why don’t you try absent treatment? Just imagine that you have had a most satisfying meal, and in a few moments you will forget all about your hunger.”
“We had to do that many times in France, did we not?” laughed Grace Harlowe, turning to her companion, Elfreda Briggs.
“Not ‘many times,’ but most of the time,” agreed Elfreda. “Alors! Let’s go!”
Gathering up their belongings, the Overland Riders moved towards the exit of their Pullman car just as the North Coast Limited roared up to the station at Cinnabar, the point at which thousands of tourists stop off during the summer season to visit the Yellowstone National Park, now the destination of the Overlanders themselves. A throng of tourists stepped down from the train to the long low platform in front of the little station.
Among the first to leave the train were the Overland Riders—Grace Harlowe Gray and her husband, Tom Gray, in the lead. A few moments later the train was rumbling away, enveloped in a black cloud of smoke.
Four-in-hand Concord coaches, old-fashioned but in good repair, to which handsome black horses were hitched, were drawn up to the platform to carry away the tourists. There was bustle and laughter and shouting and excitement among the tourists, in which the khaki-clad Overland Riders took no part, for they were experienced travelers now just starting out on their regular summer outing in the saddle. The Overlanders, however, were interested in the busy scene at the little station. The quaint little town with its wooden buildings built in irregular formation, like many other far western towns, sat in a vast amphitheater formed by surrounding mountain ranges.
“Come, girls,” urged Grace Harlowe. “We must busy ourselves, for we have much to do. Tom, please inquire if our guide, Jake Coville, is here.”
“What concerns me most at the moment is where we are to eat,” spoke up Nora Wingate.
“I was about to ask the same question,” nodded Stacy Brown, more familiarly known to his companions as “Chunky,” whose appetite had never been known to be fully appeased.
“There is a hotel sign just across the way,” volunteered Miss Briggs.
“It takes more than a sign to make a hotel,” observed Grace laughingly. “That is especially true in this far western country, as we Riders have had ample evidence.”
“Let’s go! No food is worse than poor food,” urged Stacy.
“Yes. Let’s do,” agreed Emma.
“No breakfast until we have unloaded and fed the ponies,” called Hippy Wingate. “The animals need more attention than we do. Come along.”
“They don’t need it so much as this animal does,” declared Chunky.
“Feed the ponies; then we will think of food for ourselves,” was Hippy’s reply. “Tom, what about the guide?”
“I’ll find out.” Stepping over to the station agent, who was busy with a pile of trunks that had been unloaded from the Limited, Tom asked: “Do you know where we may find Jake Coville?” The agent, before replying, surveyed Tom from head to foot.
“I reckon you’ll find him at home.”
“Where is that, please?”
“Next to the last house down the street, after you have turned to your left, first turn.”
“It is strange that he is not here to meet us,” observed Tom, turning away.
“Perhaps he is one of the independent kind that has to be asked,” suggested Nora.
“So are we,” interjected Stacy.
“Why doesn’t some one go fetch him?” demanded Emma.
“Tom will do so after we get the ponies out,” answered Grace.
“No, you folks take care of the ponies and leave Mr. Coville to me,” urged Stacy. “I know how to handle these wild westerners.”
“After we have taken the animals out,” nodded Tom.
The party hurried down the platform to the stock car that the station agent pointed out to them, and that had been shunted over on the siding by an earlier train. In the freight house end of the station they found a plank gangway intended for use in unloading stock. The runway was not more than three feet wide, but this did not worry the Overlanders. Their ponies were used to traveling over narrow places and would walk over the narrow bridge as confidently as would the Overlanders themselves.
While Tom, Hippy and Stacy were dragging the heavy planking over to the stock car a crowd of curious villagers gathered to witness the unloading of the ponies.
“Troopers?” questioned a native.
“Not exactly,” answered Tom Gray.
“Thought mebby you was a new cavalry company come to do patrol work in the Park. Heard there was a gang coming. Most of the regulars that was on duty in the Park went to France, and some of ’em ain’t come back.”
“Say, do we look like a gang?” demanded Stacy Brown, turning on the speaker.
“Wall, I reckon you might.”
“Then again we might not,” retorted the fat boy.
“Come, Stacy! You aren’t lifting a pound,” rebuked Lieutenant Wingate.
“He never has,” reminded Emma Dean.
“And never will if he can get out of it,” laughed Elfreda Briggs.
“Mebby he’s got all he kin do to lug himself around,” suggested one of the villagers.
Stacy eyed him narrowly.
“That never will bother you because your head is too light to overbalance you,” retorted the fat boy.
“Can you and Tom lift the gangway up?” called Hippy, clinging to the closed car door.
“We can, but we won’t,” answered Stacy.
“Huh! I suppose I shall have to get down and help you,” grunted Lieutenant Wingate.
“You will if you wish to use the gangway to-day,” retorted Stacy. “Don’t you reckon I’d better go look for Jake Coville?”
“Yes, yes, go on,” begged Tom Gray disgustedly.
“All right, I’ll go. Say, it’s a pity some of you lazy village folks wouldn’t turn to and give us a hand. Never saw such an indifferent lot in my life.”
“Why should they, Stacy? They do not belong to our party,” answered Nora Wingate.
“Oh, there isn’t any reason, of course,” grumbled the fat boy.
“Did you ever help anyone out?” questioned Emma.
“Oh, lots of times. I have been doing that all my life,” answered Stacy, sauntering away to go in search of the guide who had failed to meet them.
The girls offered to help put the gangway in place, but the two men would not permit them to do so. At this juncture the agent came out and offered his services, and a moment later the gangway was in place. The station agent then opened the car door.
“There. Now you can get your stock out,” he said.
Hippy took one amazed look at the interior of the car and uttered an exclamation.
“Here, here! What’s this?” he cried.
The Overlanders ran up the gangway and peered in.
“For mercy’s sake!” cried Nora Wingate. “Those are not our ponies.”
The car, instead of holding the slim-limbed, sleek ponies of the Overland outfit, was filled with huge draft horses, such as one sees exhibited at county fairs in the east.
“Mr. Agent, they have dropped the wrong car here. These are not our animals,” declared Hippy.
“I can’t help that,” replied the agent.
“Young man, you march right back to your office and send out a general alarm for one car of ponies missing, and tell your superiors that we shall hold them responsible for the delivery of our animals before night to-day,” warned Hippy. “Get busy.”
The agent said he could do nothing, but Hippy was of a different opinion, and led the agent to the telegraph office where the Overlander sent a peremptory message to the general superintendent.
This done the Overland Riders began looking about for a place to eat and to spend the day and night. They finally found quarters at a hotel, but, after looking the place over, they decided to go into camp. Fortunately, all their equipment had been shipped as baggage, so, hiring a man and a wagon, they had the equipment drawn to the edge of the little town where they pitched their tents and began preparing camp, not knowing how long it might be before they got their ponies.
Many of the villagers followed the party out and observed the process of camp-making with keen interest.
“Government party?” questioned the postmaster.
“No,” answered Lieutenant Wingate shortly.
“We are out for a pleasure trip through the Park,” Grace informed him.
“Oh! Been out before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir. A great many times. There comes Stacy. He looks disturbed about something,” said Grace.
“That is because he thinks he has missed his breakfast,” chuckled Emma Dean.
“What’s the matter, Stacy?” called Nora. “We thought you were lost.”
“I was. Nobody seemed to know where you folks had gone. I’ve had an awful experience, worst I ever had in my life, and—”
“Did you find Coville?” interrupted Tom Gray as he drove home a tent peg.
“Find him? I should say I did. Most distressing thing you ever heard of. I know I shall never get over the shock that I got this day.” Stacy plainly was laboring under a severe nerve strain, as his companions discerned, and therefore no one attempted to tease him.
“Tell us about it,” urged Grace gently.
“What’s the matter now?” demanded Hippy Wingate, returning from the station. “Didn’t you find Coville?”
“Yes, I found him.” Stacy mopped the perspiration from his face with, a sleeve.
“Then why is he not here attending to his business?” demanded Hippy with some irritation.
“I’ll tell you the story, then you’ll understand,” answered Stacy soberly. “I found the place where Coville lived and I was met at the door by a red-eyed woman who looked as if she had been crying. I asked her if Jake was there and she said ‘yes’ and burst into tears. Well, would you believe me, folks—”
“Oh, we will believe anything after this horse-car mystery,” returned Hippy Wingate impatiently.
“I told her who I was and that Jake was to be our guide, and, what do you think—”
“Don’t stall. Get to the point,” urged Tom.
“She said, ‘He ain’t nobody’s guide now. Jake’s dead!’”
The Overland Riders gasped.
“Who—what—” exclaimed Nora.
“Uh-huh. He passed out suddenly.”
“Oh, that is too bad,” cried the girls, their voices full of sympathy.
“We hadn’t even heard that he was ill,” added Elfreda.
“He wasn’t—that is, not until yesterday when he got kicked in the head by a horse, and that was the last of him. But never so long as I live will I get over the shock,” muttered Stacy. “Don’t talk to me. I guess I want to get away by myself and think,” added Stacy, sobered, deeply affected for the first time in his life.
“We must do something for the family, provided they need it,” suggested Grace. “Any news from our missing horses, Hippy?”
“Not a word. The railroad officials profess to know nothing about them and insist that the car we have is the car that went out with us when we left Denver.”
“Oh, I hope we do not lose our wonderful ponies,” cried Elfreda.
“There’s no possibility of that,” replied Lieutenant Wingate, “We may be delayed here for a few days waiting for the railroad people to straighten out the tangle, so let’s make the best of a bad situation and enjoy ourselves.”
As later events proved, Hippy Wingate was not a true prophet, for the Overlanders were face to face with a mystery that would not be solved in many a day. Their summer’s outing had begun under the most unfavorable conditions of any summer journey they had ever undertaken.
CHAPTER II
THE WIRES BRING BAD NEWS
“The question is, what shall we do for a guide?” said Miss Briggs later in the afternoon, after they had finished the noon meal in their own camp.
“Unless we find our ponies we shall have no need of a guide,” answered Grace. “Ponies are what we are most in need of at this stage of our journey.”
“We can walk, can’t we?” spoke up Nora Wingate.
A chorus of “no’s” greeted her suggestion.
“Why don’t you give the subject some ‘absent treatment,’ Emma?” suggested Stacy Brown.
“I—I never tried it on a horse, and don’t know whether or not it will work,” stammered Miss Dean amid laughter. “I’ll try it, if you wish. As a matter of fact, my instructor in mental treatment says that one can accomplish anything if one only has faith in his ability to do so.”
“Stacy, do you hear that?” laughed Grace, smiling at the blinking fat boy. “It might do wonders for your appetite. Would you like to have Emma try her new fad on you?”
“Not on me,” protested Chunky with emphasis. “Let her try it on the horses. What’s the news, Uncle Hip?” he added, as Lieutenant Wingate sauntered into camp.
“None at all. The agent and the officials still insist that it is our car and our shipment of horses that lies on the siding over yonder. I have come back to you folks for a conference. What would you advise doing in the matter?”
“I, for one, advise remaining right where we are until we get our ponies, even if it takes all summer,” suggested Emma, but no one gave the slightest heed to her advice.
“Hippy, have you seen the waybill?” inquired Grace, who had been regarding Lieutenant Wingate thoughtfully.
“The waybill?” exclaimed Hippy.
“That carload of draft horses must weigh about a million pounds,” declared Stacy.
“I don’t mean ‘weigh,’ I mean ‘way,’” laughed Grace.
“That’s right, Hippy. Odd it hadn’t occurred to me,” nodded Tom.
“The waybill is the shipping orders for the railroad by which conductors of trains are informed where the cars of their train are to be dropped off,” Grace informed her companions. “This waybill bears the number of the car and names its contents and destination. It might not be a bad idea to see what the waybill says. I don’t suppose the agent has examined it. If it is our car the mystery is too deep for me to solve.”
“Say, Brown Eyes, you have a wonderful head,” complimented Lieutenant Wingate.
“Remarkable mentality,” agreed Stacy under his breath, giving Tom Gray a sidelong glance, but Tom merely laughed good-naturedly.
Hippy said he would see the agent at once, and started at a brisk walk for the railway station. He returned an hour later.
“Well?” called Tom, when Lieutenant Wingate was still some distance away.
“The car on the siding is not our car at all. Our waybill calls not only for a car from another road, but for a car with a wholly different number. That was a big suggestion, Grace,” added Hippy, smiling at her.
“What did you do about it?” inquired Elfreda Briggs.
“Do? I expressed my sentiments in a message to the superintendent that made the wires sing. I’ll get action or I’ll—”
“Get into jail,” finished Emma amid laughter.
“Well, not this trip,” responded Lieutenant Wingate dryly. “I just came over to tell you. I’m going back now to see what the Super has to say in reply. I’ll let you know as soon as something develops. ’Bye!”
By the time Hippy reached the station the agent had received orders regarding the car of draft horses but no information regarding the ponies, so Lieutenant Wingate sent another message, more forceful than he had sent before. Still no reply. Hippy sent still another one; and he continued to send messages to various railroad officials, messages that had a punch in them.
In the meantime Grace and Tom had walked into the village, first to the post office, then to the hotel, to inquire if there were a place nearby where they might procure horses for their journey, and to make further inquiries about a guide, provided they should need one. Their quest amounted to this: There was a stock farm about ten miles from Cinnabar where horses might possibly be obtained, but neither the hotel proprietor nor the postmaster knew where they could find a guide, as, at this, the busiest period of the tourist traffic, guides were in great demand.
“When you get into the Park you no doubt will be able to pick up someone who knows the Park. If not, why not take a Concord coach or a car and do the Park the way other tourists do?” the hotel proprietor suggested.
“Because we prefer to ride our horses through,” answered Tom briefly. “Come, Grace!”
They returned to camp, first having made some food purchases, and shortly after their arrival Hippy came in, but he still had no news for them, and that night the Overland Riders turned in rather glum, for their misfortune at the very beginning of the season’s outing disturbed them considerably. Then again, the ponies belonging to their outfit were trained animals and represented quite a heavy investment; but, like the good travelers they were, the Overland Riders tried to make the best of their troubles, hoping that the morrow might bring them better luck.
The morning, however, failed to bring anything in the way of news, and once more Lieutenant Wingate began bombarding officials with telegrams. This continued for three days following; then, one morning, the camp was awakened by a loud halloo, which brought all hands to instant wakefulness. Hippy ran out from his tent in his pajamas.
“Telegram for Theophilus Wingate,” announced the boy who had brought the message.
The Overlanders, peering from their tents, saw Hippy tear the envelope open, then, after a brief perusal of the contents, begin to dance about with as fine a display of temper as his companions had ever seen him exhibit.
“Uncle Hip’s got the willies,” observed Stacy Brown. “I hope he doesn’t give them to me.”
“Hey, there! What is it all about?” demanded Tom Gray, emerging from his tent.
“Yes, let us have the news. Don’t keep us in suspense any longer,” called Grace.
“News? News?” roared Hippy. “Of all the blithering idiots—of all the fool blundering that mortal man ever heard of, this is the end of the limit. What do you think?”
“Nothing!” shouted Stacy.
“It is too early in the morning for Chunky to think,” piped Emma. “You should know by this time that his mental processes never do function before breakfast, and then merely nominally.”
“Why don’t you give me the absent treatment?” suggested Stacy.
“As I began to remark, what do you folks think?” resumed Hippy. “Listen to the message from the division superintendent of the outfit that calls itself a railroad.” Hippy then read the following message to his companions:
“‘T. H. Wingate:
“‘Regret to report that car 16,431, billed Cinnabar, with horses for the Overland Riders, was by mistake shifted to siding at Summit Junction early morning of the fourteenth and by mistake of train crew left there when taking on car of work horses for the west. Regret also to report that, upon examining the car supposed to contain Overland Riders’ mounts, it was found to be empty.
“‘Making investigation and will report developments.’”
“Empty!” howled Stacy Brown.
“Our ponies gone!” cried Emma.
The Overland Riders uttered long-drawn groans; that is, all did except Hippy Wingate. Hippy, barefooted, was chasing the telegraph messenger out of camp, and shouting his opinion of railroads and railroad officials.
CHAPTER III
ON THE ROAD TO WONDERLAND
“Remember that stop, Summit Junction,” cried Miss Briggs. “We stayed there so long that I peeked out of the window wondering if it was another hold-up, but there was nothing to see.”
“What could have happened to the poor little animals?” wondered Nora Wingate.
“Happened!” roared Hippy Wingate, limping back to camp with a stone bruise on each foot. “Somebody stole the whole outfit, that’s what happened. Dear friends, make up your minds to kiss your ponies good-bye. The chances are that you never will see them again,” he added, nodding at Miss Dean.
“Thank you. I do not kiss horses, but I wish I could get near enough to mine to do so if I wished,” replied Emma.
“The question is, what are we to do now?” reminded Grace.
“This being my party I will furnish new mounts if I can find them,” announced Hippy. “I’ll tell you what. Tom, you and Stacy go with me and we will get a ‘rig’ and drive out to the stock farm that you and Grace found out about. If we can get animals there that are worthwhile I’ll buy them and we should be ready to start for the Park early to-morrow morning. All agreed?”
“Yes!” cried the girls.
“While we are absent, find out all you can about the route to the Park, you stay-at-homes,” directed Tom.
Tom Gray started a fire, and by the time the men had finished dressing, the girls were busily engaged getting breakfast.
Breakfast was a hurried affair, for Tom and Hippy were eager to be off in order that they might settle the question of mounts before the day came to an end. An hour later, with Stacy Brown riding on behind, the three started away in a buckboard for their drive into the country.
After breakfast, Grace and Elfreda went into town to make inquiries as to their proposed journey. From a Park guard, whom they found at the post office, the two girls learned that a government road led from Cinnabar directly into the Park. He said that there was no possibility of the party losing their way, and gave them information about what they should do after reaching the Park.
Before leaving the post office Grace and Elfreda had a picture of the route well in mind. The Park guard also informed them that they would have no difficulty in picking up a guide once they reached the Park itself.
“This seems to clear up every problem except the question of mounts,” announced Grace. “I presume it would be wise to order provisions, to be paid for and taken if our men folk succeed in getting ponies for us.”
After making provisional purchases they returned to camp, and there the girls spent the rest of the day waiting rather impatiently for the return of the horse-hunters, but it was not until supper time that the three men returned. With them they brought a string of western ponies and two pack horses. The animals were not sleek like their own mounts but Tom and Hippy assured the girls that the animals were guaranteed, and that, while they were not all that could be desired, still they were a find.
“Pick your horses,” directed Lieutenant Wingate. “But don’t all choose the same horse. If you do you will have to draw lots to settle the difficulty.”
“I have a better plan,” spoke up Miss Briggs. “Number the animals, write the numbers on slips of paper and place the papers in a hat; then we will each draw a slip.”
“Good idea,” nodded Stacy Brown. “We don’t want any hair pulling in this outfit.”
“Stacy!” rebuked Nora. “I am amazed at you.”
“You shouldn’t be,” interjected Emma.
The drawing took place at once, and for a wonder each girl got the pony that pleased her. After supper the purchases made by Grace and Elfreda were brought over to camp and packs were made up for an early start. The Overland party were on their way shortly after sunrise on the following morning. The ponies behaved well and the party was as well satisfied with them as could be expected in the circumstances, and happy to be once more in the saddle, and especially to be “on their own,” as Miss Briggs expressed it, meaning that they were to be their own guides.
The ponies started at a brisk trot down the dusty road, a pace that the pack animals stood up under very well, considering that they were carrying heavy loads. As they progressed the Overlanders found themselves enveloped in a great cloud of suffocating dust that brought many coughs and sneezes.
“Gracious!” exclaimed Elfreda between coughs. “I never in all my life swallowed so much dust as I have this morning.”
“And it isn’t what might be called ‘pay dust’ either,” chuckled Lieutenant Wingate.
“Hear! Hear!” cried Emma. “Hippy has made a joke.”
“He only thinks he has,” chortled Stacy. “Why, I could make a better joke than that with my hands tied behind me.”
“And a gag between your teeth,” flung back Hippy, who was riding ahead.
“You have expressed my sentiments exactly,” laughed Tom Gray.
“You have offered us an excellent suggestion,” piped Emma, then fell into a severe fit of coughing. “What is needed here is a sprinkling wagon,” she added chokingly.
“Yes. You have said it,” agreed Nora.
The road was now winding into a thick forest of slender scrubby pine. The little trees, tall and straight, stood so close together that a horse could hardly have been forced between them, and their foliage had been turned to a dirty yellow by the dust from the government road that had settled over it. The Overlanders, however, despite these unpleasant features, were in good spirits, each one eagerly looking forward to their journey through Nature’s Wonderland, which they were now entering.
The Riders swept into Gardiner Canyon at a slow jog, finding instant relief from the dust, the road and river there winding between high cliffs, the outer gateway to the Park itself.
A brief halt was made for luncheon, and late in the afternoon they came out upon a spacious plateau where they decided to pitch their camp for the night. According to the map of the Park that Tom had brought with him they were now but a short distance from the Mammoth Hot Springs.
Camp was quickly made and a fire started, and the warmth of the fire, and the hot dinner that was soon served, brought comfort and loosened the tongues of the Overland Riders.
“Ahem!” began Hippy, as they finished the meal.
“Uncle Hip is going to make a speech,” groaned Stacy Brown.
“Unhappy moment,” murmured Emma.
“Ladies and gentlemen, do you know where you are?” he began oratorically.
“In the Yellowstone National Park,” shouted Stacy, amid laughter.
“Or nearly so,” corrected the speaker. “Being here, it is well that you should acquaint yourselves with the extent of the vast natural reserves upon which we are about to enter.”
“Make it short and snappy,” urged J. Elfreda Briggs laughingly.
“It was in the year 1872 that the Congress of the United States passed an act which set aside forever as a public park that section of the country now known as the Yellowstone National Park. This great park is rectangular in shape, sixty-two miles long from north to south, by fifty-four miles wide.”
“Our city park at Chillicothe can beat that,” interjected Stacy.
“The Park has an area of 3,412 square miles,” continued Lieutenant Wingate. “It has many lakes, nearly two hundred miles of improved roads, and a chain of hotels. The Park is patrolled by United States cavalry. The name of the Park is supposed to have been taken from the Indian name of the river, Mi-tsi-a-da-zi, meaning, ‘Rock Yellow River.’”
“Ha, ha!” laughed the fat boy. “That sounds as if it had been named by a baby.”
“Please do not interrupt the gentleman,” begged Emma gravely.
“The Park is located in northwestern Wyoming, with a narrow strip in Montana and Idaho. It is open from June to September, I understand.”
“I believe there is much game in the Park,” suggested Nora. “Do you know anything about that?”
“Oh, yes. My information on this vast Park is, I might say, wide. Buffalo, elk and deer, with many bear, some antelopes, a few coyotes and much small game, are to be found here,” Hippy informed them.
“Hooray! We’ll have a bear hunt,” shouted Stacy.
“Not here, you won’t,” answered Tom Gray severely.
“Why won’t we?” demanded the fat boy.
“This is a government preserve, young man, and hunting is forbidden here,” replied Tom.
“Tom is right, Stacy, and you will please not forget that your Uncle Sam is not to be trifled with. Follow the crowd and sit on your safety valve until we get clear of the Park,” advised Lieutenant Wingate.
“Pshaw!” grunted the fat boy. “Somebody is always taking the joy out of life. When do we see the geezers?”
“The what?” exclaimed the Overlanders in chorus.
“The geezers? The things that squirt up into the air?”
“Geezers! Geezers!” groaned Emma Dean. “This is too much.”
“You mean geysers, don’t you?” asked Grace after the laughter had subsided.
“Yes. Something of that sort. Is that what they call them?”
“Certainly, Stacy. Geysers,” nodded Grace.
“I thought it was geezers.”
“Your early education has been sadly neglected, I fear,” averred Tom Gray dryly.
“When I was a boy they didn’t have geysers. They were geezers,” muttered Stacy.
“But they had spouters then as now,” chuckled Emma. “I—”
“Hark!” warned Grace, holding up a hand for silence. “I hear a horse coming at a gallop.”
“Perhaps it is one of the troopers coming to see who and what we are,” suggested Tom.
All heard the hoof beats from the direction of Cinnabar; then they saw a rider come around the bend just beyond and slow down as he espied the camp. Halting when he reached the camp, the stranger touched his sombrero and bade the Overlanders a pleasant good-evening.
“Howdy, stranger,” greeted Hippy, walking out to the newcomer. “Get off and have-a snack, won’t you? We have just finished our chow, but there is enough left for you, I reckon.”
“Thankee. I had my supper at Cinnabar. Name’s Jim Badger. I’m one of them guide fellers. Want a guide?”
“Get down and we will talk it over,” invited Hippy, and beckoned to his companions who strolled over and were introduced by Lieutenant Wingate. “This man says he is a guide and offers his services. What do you think about it, folks?”
“Do you know the Park well?” questioned Tom.
“I reckon nobody knows it better.”
“How did you know that we were without a guide?” asked Grace.
“The folks back in Cinnabar told me when I rode in there this afternoon, so I jest hustled down here to catch up with you.”
“What will you charge to guide us through the Park?” asked Hippy.
“All I can git.”
“What you get out of this outfit won’t make you round-shouldered to carry,” Stacy informed the applicant.
“We ordinarily pay about twenty-five dollars a week,” said Tom.
“How long you folks goin’ to be here?”
“Perhaps a month,” replied Tom. “We wish to do the Park thoroughly.”
“I’ll take the job.”
“Not so fast, old man. We haven’t asked you to do so yet. In fact, we had rather decided not to take on a guide, and that we would go it alone,” Lieutenant Wingate made reply.
“You hired Jake Coville, didn’t you?”
“What do you say, folks?” questioned Lieutenant Wingate, ignoring Badger’s remark, and turning to the Overlanders.
“I think we will leave the decision to you and Tom,” answered Grace, glancing at her companions who nodded their assent.
“What do you say, Tom?”
“I agree, Hippy.”
“We will take you, Badger—take you on a week’s trial, if that suits you,” announced Hippy.
“I reckon it’ll have to. Where you goin’?”
“You are the guide. That is for you to suggest,” spoke up Captain Gray.
“The usual, I suppose,” nodded Badger.
“No. Not the usual,” interjected Grace. “We wish to see what the ordinary tourist doesn’t see.”
The new guide wrinkled his forehead in thought.
“How does the Mammoth Springs in the morning strike you folks, then the geysers, and so on through?”
Tom Gray said that was in accordance with the plans already in mind.
“Got permits for the Park?” asked the guide.
“Not yet,” replied Hippy.
“Then you got to go to the office in the mornin’ and git them. You all have to register, you know.”
They did not know of this regulation for campers, though supposing that some sort of requirements were demanded of outfits such as theirs.
The party now sat down by the fire to discuss the Park and the features that they wished to see. Badger sat hunched down before the blaze, furtively studying his new charges. This, of course, he had a right to do, and perhaps it was proper that he should. He, in turn, was closely observed by the Overlanders themselves. Badger was a slight, wiry fellow, keen-eyed and observant, as the Overlanders soon discovered, and somehow the girls of the party were not thoroughly at their ease under his observation. They were therefore somewhat relieved when Hippy took the guide out to show him their equipment and give Badger a line on their way of doing things. The guide quickly discovered that the Overland Riders were fully as well-informed on camp life in the woods or mountains as he himself was. Still, there were some features about these seasoned young people that he had yet to learn.
The party chatted until late in the evening, then turned in with the moon shining down on their little tents, happy to be once more close to nature, and anticipating a peaceful night’s sleep in the open. A rude awakening awaited them, however, and, as usual, Stacy Brown was to be the moving cause of the disturbance.
CHAPTER IV
UNBIDDEN GUESTS IN CAMP
“What do you think of Badger?” asked Grace as she and Elfreda were preparing for bed.
“He is an odd fellow, but I reckon all guides are more or less peculiar. So are we for that matter.”
Grace admitted the truth of the statement.
“Will you folks please keep quiet in there? Don’t you think I want to go to sleep?” demanded Stacy from an adjoining tent.
“It will take more than talking to cause you to lose sleep,” piped the voice of Emma Dean.
“Don’t interrupt, young man. We are having a private conversation,” begged Miss Briggs laughingly. However, she and Grace finished their talk in lower tones, and soon after that quiet settled over the camp, the guide being curled up in his blankets by the fire, long since sound asleep.
It was shortly after midnight that Grace, awakened by the snorting and stamping of the ponies, sat up to listen. She knew that something had disturbed them, but before she could get up to investigate, the camp was startled by a wild yell from Stacy Brown, who occupied a little shelter tent by himself.
“Yeow—wow! They’re after me!” howled Stacy, rushing from his tent in a high state of excitement. By this time the Overlanders were running towards him, Jim Badger in the lead.
“They’re after me—right after me!” explained the fat boy almost incoherently.
The out-turning Overlanders came to a sudden halt. Three big, shadowy figures were discovered ambling away from the camp.
“Bears!” screamed Emma Dean.
“Grizzlies,” supplemented the guide.
“Oh, wow!” yelled Chunky, vanishing into his tent. “What’s the shortest route to the railroad station?”
“Keep quiet. Don’t stir them up,” warned Jim Badger. “They are after grub, that’s all.”
“It looks as though we were the ones to get excited, not the bears,” exclaimed Miss Briggs. “Do I understand you to mean that we are the food they are after?”
At this juncture, Stacy Brown was seen to spring from his tent, rifle in hand.
“Stop that!” thundered Hippy.
“Put down that gun!” commanded Tom Gray sternly.
Too late! Badly frightened, Stacy threw the gun to his shoulder; and fired after the barest pretense at aiming. Chunky fully intended to empty the magazine at the retreating bears, but before he could fire a second time Lieutenant Wingate struck up his arm, sending the muzzle of the rifle pointing skyward, just as the fat boy pulled the trigger.
“Don’t be a fool! What are you trying to do?” demanded Hippy.
“I shot one, I did,” cried Stacy exultingly as Hippy took the rifle from him.
“No you didn’t,” retorted the guide. “And a mighty lucky thing for you that you didn’t. It’s against the Park rules.”
“Is it against the law to stop wild animals from eating you?” demanded the fat boy indignantly.
“I reckon it ain’t.”
“It’s a poor rule that doesn’t work both ways. If the bears have a right to try to eat me, I surely have a right to see to it that they don’t. Such fool laws! You make me weary.”
The bears were now nowhere to be seen. At the first shot, which, fortunately, had gone wide of the mark, they had ambled away into the darkness. The guide seemed ill at ease.
“Just the same you shouldn’t have done that, young feller,” he said with a shake of the head. “It may git us into a lot of trouble.”
“Huh! I came near getting into trouble as it was. Do you know, one of those beasts was coming right into my tent?”
“Bears always hang around a camp at night lookin’ for an easy livin’. They never do no harm to anybody if they’re let alone. When the she-bears have cubs with them, though, they’re mighty touchy. I hope nobody heard that shot.”
“Why?” demanded Miss Briggs.
“If anybody did we’ll hear from it.”
“They had better not bother me,” scoffed Stacy. “I know my business, and if they say anything to me I’ll tell them a thing or two.”
At Grace’s suggestion the party returned to their beds. Badger said the bears had had too big a scare to permit them to come back that night, so the Overlanders turned in to finish their night’s rest.
“If you folks was over to the Mammoth Springs Hotel now, you’d find the bears at the dump there finishin’ their meal,” said the guide as they bade him good-night.
“I hope to goodness that the beasts stay there,” muttered Emma, who was still considerably frightened.
The party had little more than composed themselves between their blankets than the hoof beats of rapidly moving horses were heard, and once more the Overland Riders sat up in their beds listening.
“Hulloa the camp!” shouted a voice as two horses halted close by.
“What do you want?” demanded Stacy, peering from his tent; the others of the party who had heard the hail and the fat boy’s answer decided to lie still and await developments.
“Hear anybody shooting ’round here?” asked one of the horsemen.
“Hear anybody shooting?” repeated Stacy. “How could I hear anybody shooting when I was in bed and asleep?”
“That wasn’t what I asked you, young fellow.”
“That wasn’t what I answered you, either,” came back Stacy promptly.
“Who is the boss of this party?”
“I am,” answered Chunky pompously.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Brown. Who are you?”
“I’m White of—”
“Ho-ho,” laughed Stacy. “Lucky we aren’t Black and Blue, isn’t it?”
“We’re Park guards from the Thirteenth Cavalry. We think shots were fired from this camp and we want to know why.” The trooper got down, handing his bridle rein to his companion. “I want to see the rest of this outfit.” At this juncture Tom and Hippy stepped out and bade the guards a courteous good-evening, while the girls of the party were dressing.
“Who are you?” demanded the trooper, turning sharply on the two men.
Hippy introduced himself and Tom, and told the guard that the outfit was the Overland Riders starting in to ride the Yellowstone Park.
“What do you know about the shots we heard?”
“Two shots were fired here, sir, a short time ago. I don’t know whether or not they were the ones you heard.”
“It was a mistake,” spoke up Tom Gray. “The one who fired the shots was laboring under great excitement at the time and did not realize that he was doing wrong.”
“Who fired them?”
No one answered, and the question was repeated.
“I do not know that we are obliged to answer that question,” replied Lieutenant Wingate after a slight hesitation. “I will take the responsibility, whatever it may be.”
“No, he won’t,” announced Stacy Brown, stepping forward. “He didn’t do the shooting. I did it.”
The guard looked perplexed.
“Somebody around these parts is lying,” he said.
Hippy flushed.
“I tell you I did it,” insisted Stacy.
“Be quiet, Stacy. I am speaking with the guard,” rebuked Hippy.
“I won’t. I guess I’ve got a right to talk if I want to. I’ll tell you what happened, Mr. Guard. I woke up and found a big bear coming into my tent, and I grabbed up my gun and shot at him. That’s all there was to it.”
“Did you hit him?” demanded the guard.
“I reckon I did. I never miss what I shoot at,” answered the fat boy boastfully.
The Overlanders groaned under their breaths. Badger, who had got up unnoticed, was standing in the background listening to the conversation. “Have you a guide?” asked the trooper.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he prevent the shooting?”
“The guide was asleep,” explained Hippy. “No harm was done, as this young man plainly did not hit either of the animals. We are very sorry that a park regulation has been violated by one of our party, and assure you that it will not occur again.”
“I reckon we’ll stay here to-night,” announced the guard.
“We shall be glad to have you,” spoke up Tom. “Mr. Badger, take care of these men’s horses. You may have my tent, gentlemen. I have my sleeping bag.”
“I reckon you don’t have to disturb yourselves. We’ll bunk on the ground. First, we want to see the rest of your party.”
“They are all women,” answered Hippy. “I don’t know whether you can see them or not.”
At this juncture the girls stepped out, each fully dressed, and the troopers saluted, which salutes were returned snappily by the Overland girls, rather to the amazement of the two Park guards. The troopers had given Badger a keen look, and that was all, but instead of permitting him to care for their mounts, they led them over and tethered them with the Overland ponies. When they returned, the Overlanders were turning in. One trooper lay down just inside the tent occupied by Tom and Hippy, the other rolling up in his blanket at the entrance to Stacy Brown’s shelter tent. Stacy eyed the man sourly. In his heart he hoped that the grizzlies would come back and give the fellow a scare. Stacy did not take the situation very seriously.
“Maybe you would like my bed,” suggested the fat boy.
“This will do, thanks.”
“Why do you hang around me?”
“To see that you don’t get into any more mix-ups,” was the brief reply.
“You better look out for yourself, Mr. Man. I know how to take care of myself. I’m no tenderfoot.”
The trooper was snoring, and Stacy sat eyeing the fellow disgustedly.
“I wouldn’t be such a sleepyhead for anything. He went to sleep while I was talking to him. I wish someone would talk me to sleep every night,” muttered the fat boy drowsily, then began to snore. Stacy had talked himself to sleep.
Tom Gray and Lieutenant Wingate thought they knew why the troopers were remaining in the camp. Grace and Elfreda, in a whispered conversation, talked the matter over and came to what proved to be the right conclusion. The Park guards had shown themselves to be good fellows, and thawed out considerably before the smiles of the girls. Badger was the sour one of the party. He did not like the turn affairs had taken.
All hands had a good sleep for the rest of the night, and when the Overland Riders awakened they found the two troopers up and brushing up their own equipment. They ate breakfast with their hosts and then sat about until after eight o’clock, but as soon as the breakfast had been cleared away Trooper White rose.
“You will all get your horses and come with me,” he announced sharply.
“Where to?” questioned Tom Gray.
“To the Superintendent of the reservation.”
“Yes, thank you. We wish to see him,” nodded Tom.
“I reckon he will want to see you, too,” grinned White.
“Just what do you mean by that, Buddy?” demanded Hippy.
“I mean that you are all under arrest,” replied the trooper sternly.
“Un—under arrest!” gasped Emma Dean.
“Pinched!” groaned Stacy Brown. “This is too much.”
CHAPTER V
STACY GETS ANOTHER SHOCK
“Step lively! It is time we were at the fort,” urged the trooper.
“I call this an outrage,” declared Nora Wingate heatedly.
The guard made no reply, but strode away towards his horse, returning a few moments later with the animal saddled and bridled.
“As we shall not return here in all probability, would it not be wise to break camp?” suggested Grace.
“Can’t wait for that,” returned White briskly. “Get your horses.”
Hippy bristled.
“My dear sir, even if you are the United States Government, we are not going to leave this camp unprotected. If you can’t wait, have your companion remain here and guard it until our return. Understand? I refuse to leave this camp unprotected, nor can you make me do so. Now, which shall it be—strike camp or have the other guard stay here?”
The trooper eyed Lieutenant Wingate steadily for a few seconds, and the lieutenant returned the gaze in kind.
“Strike your camp!” ordered White tersely.
Hippy nodded to his companions. Badger grinned. He was much pleased that Hippy had faced the troopers and made them give in to him, but he well knew that the party was not yet at the end of their troubles. There was still Colonel Appleby at the fort to be reckoned with, and the colonel was known to be a stern man. Of course the Overland Riders were not yet bothering themselves about the colonel.
Within half an hour the camp was struck and the outfit packed, the two troopers interestedly observing the work, and nodding approvingly. The Overland party set out soon after that, White and his companion riding ahead, Jim Badger bringing up the rear, but this morning the Riders were unusually quiet.
After reaching the fort on the plateau where the Mammoth Springs Hotel was located, White ordered his prisoners to dismount and follow him. They were escorted into Colonel Appleby’s presence.
“What have you to say to this?” demanded the colonel, after Trooper White had briefly stated the case against the Overlanders.
“We do not deny the facts, sir,” replied Tom Gray. “I assure you, though, that there was no intent to violate Park regulations.”
Colonel Appleby regarded the party with keen appraising gaze, and saw that he was dealing with people of refinement.
“Which one did the shooting?” he demanded finally.
“I did,” answered Stacy, standing up.
“Explain how you came to discharge your rifle.”
Stacy did so, telling the story of the incident exactly as it had occurred. He saw that it would be futile to try to impress the colonel with his importance. The officer listened attentively.
“Did you hit the bear?”
“I—I guess I didn’t. I couldn’t see very well in the darkness,” answered Chunky rather lamely.
“I am positive that he did not hit a bear,” volunteered Lieutenant Wingate.
“Mr. Wingate struck up the shooter’s arm as he was taking his second shot,” interjected Tom.
The colonel regarded Tom shrewdly, with the suspicion of a twinkle in his eyes.
“As you undoubtedly are aware, discharging firearms in the Park is a serious offense. Strict regulations govern the carrying of arms, and for reasons which you will readily understand. In the circumstances, I have no alternative in the matter. I might imprison the young man, but I shall not do so. Instead, I shall impose a fine of fifty dollars, and—”
“Fifty dollars!” gasped Chunky, aghast.
“As I was about to say,” resumed the officer, “I fine you fifty dollars, but will remit the fine pending your future good behavior.”
Stacy Brown drew a long sigh of relief.
“I shall require, however, that your party give up their arms or have them sealed to remain so until you leave the Park. This is customary. Your side arms, if you have any, you are at liberty to carry as usual. Instead of giving up their arms, travelers ordinarily prefer to have the locks of the weapons sealed, so that, in case they are beset by bear or other animals, they may have a means of defending themselves. This sometimes occurs.”
“If a bear tackles me, may I kill him?” interposed Stacy hopefully.
“Self-preservation is the first law of nature, young man. So far as I know that law has never been repealed,” smiled the colonel. “But make no mistake in this matter. It is generally better to run than to shoot. You are guiding this party, are you not?” he demanded, turning to Jim Badger.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I shall hold you, as well as your employers, responsible, for any violation of Park regulations. That will be all. You will please register, get your permits, and turn your weapons over to the guard to be sealed, provided you wish to take them with you.”
After thanking the officer, the party walked out, Stacy soberly, the others smiling broadly.
“I wonder what next?” laughed Nora.
“Probably a life sentence for Stacy,” answered Elfreda.
“I shan’t serve it alone,” retorted Chunky.
After having the locks of their weapons sealed with sealing wax, the Overland party left the fort, and immediately held a consultation with their guide, at which they decided to make camp near by, using the Springs section as a base for a few days while exploring that part of the Park.
A camp site was selected about half way up the slope, overlooking the fort, the plateau and the hotel. It was both sightly and delightful there, and their camp was made with some idea to permanency. Badger proved himself to be extremely handy at this work, and the Overlanders concluded that he was going to be a useful man for them.
The work was finished shortly before noon and Grace suggested that they all go to the hotel for luncheon, a suggestion that was enthusiastically approved, so, putting on their “best,” the party rode down to the hotel, where they enjoyed a real meal of brook trout and other good things. After luncheon they sat on the broad veranda watching the splendid teams hooked to Concord coaches, carrying parties of tourists to the geysers or on a journey around the Park itself.
From the verandas of the hotel were visible the dazzling white terraces of the Mammoth Springs, shining like ridges of solid silver in the bright sunlight. From the plateau, terrace rose upon terrace, finally disappearing among the pines far up on the opposite mountain-side. The guide told them that there were two hundred acres of these terraces.
“Yonder phenomenon that delights and mystifies, is simply calcareous material deposited by the overflowing springs held in—in a—a—well, in a chemical solution,” finished Tom hesitatingly.
“Ahem!” said Emma.
The others nodded solemnly, their eyes regarding the entrancing scene before them. In the far distance lay the Gallatin Range, ten thousand feet above the level of the sea, while, from the broad plateau, on which they were, rose Electric Peak, bordered at its base by a fringe of slender green pines. The Peak, from the first, held a strong appeal for the Overland Riders. Perhaps it was the name, perhaps something that they had heard about it, but whatever the reason, they determined to climb the Peak, where they were destined to learn more than guide books could tell them of Nature’s vast storage battery.
CHAPTER VI
THE INFANT GEYSER GETS BUSY
“I am going to visit the terraces,” announced Grace after breakfast next morning. “Who is coming with me?”
“The entire party, I reckon,” answered Elfreda. “Ponies or on foot?”
“Ponies, of course,” spoke up Hippy. “Walking is most tiresome exercise. That’s why I took up flying when we entered the World War,” he added amid laughter.