"Do you mean--"

"I mean considerable," he said. "That red-headed movie idiot will be on
a rise, taking the tourists as they ride through. Of course he doesn't
expect the holdup--not in the papers anyhow. He happens to have the
camera trained on the party, and gets it all. Result--a whacking good
picture, revolvers firing blank cartridges, everything which people will
crowd to see. Oh, it's good business all right. I don't mind admitting
that."

Tish's face expressed the greatest rage. She rose, drawing herself to
her full height.

"And the tourists?" she demanded. "They lend themselves to this
imposition? To this infamy? To this turpitude?"

"Certainly not. They think it's the real thing. The whole business hangs
on that. And as the sheriff, or whoever it is in the fool plot, captures
the bandits, the party gets its money back, and has material for
conversation for the next twenty years."

"To think," said Tish, "of our great National Government lending itself
to such a scheme!"

"Wrong," said the young man. "It's a combination of Western railroads
and a movie concern acting together."

"I trust," Tish observed, setting her lips firmly, "that the tourists
will protest."