pair of fur rugs you are so proud of in the fire."

Bill, who was ignorant of the ham, emerged sheepishly into the open.
"Where the--where the dickens did you hit him, Miss Tish?" he asked.

"In the stomach," Tish replied tartly, and taking her revolver went back
to the tent.

All the next day Tish was quiet. She rode ahead, hardly noticing the
scenery, with her head dropped on her chest. At luncheon she took a
sardine sandwich and withdrew to a tree, underneath which she sat, a
lonely and brooding figure.

When luncheon was over and Aggie and I were washing the dishes and
hanging out the dish towels to dry on a bush, Tish approached Bill, who
was pouring water on the fire to extinguish it.

"Bill," she stated, "you came to us under false pretenses. You swear,
for one thing."

"Only under excitement, Miss Tish," he said. "And as far as that goes,
Miss Aggie herself said--"

"Also," Tish went on hastily, "you said you could cook. You cannot
cook."

"Now, look here, Miss Tish," he said in a pleading tone, "I can cook. I
didn't claim to know the whole cookbook. I can make coffee and fry
bacon. How'd I know you ladies wanted pastry? As for them canned salmon
croquettes with white sauce, I reckon to make them with a little