The Dude Wrangler Part 47

"You hear?" Stott turned to Wallie furiously. "He did it on purpose. I demand that you discharge this fellow!"

Mr. Hicks' fingers caressed the stove-wood while he waited Wallie's answer.

Wallie squirmed between the two of them.

"It was reprehensible, Mr. Stott, I am more distressed than I can tell you. I have no excuse to offer for Hicks' action, but the truth is, as he knows and has taken advantage of it, I cannot replace him and it is impossible to get along without a cook with so large a party."

"You will, then, not discharge him?" Stott demanded.

"I am helpless," Wallie reiterated.

Hicks grinned triumphantly.

"In that case," Mr. Stott declared in a tone which implied that a tremendous upheaval of some kind would follow his decision, "my wife and I will leave your party and continue through the Park by motor."

Wallie felt that it was useless to argue with any one so determined, so he made no effort to persuade Mr. Stott to remain, though the deflection of two more persons was a serious matter to him and Pinkey.

Without waiting to say good-bye to the others, the Stotts paid their bill and departed, walking so erect in their indignation as they started down the road toward the Lake Hotel that they seemed to lean backward.

It was not yet dark when Mr. Stott, stepping briskly and carrying his Gladstone bag, raincoat, and umbrella in a jaunty manner, came into camp announcing breezily that he had decided, upon reflection, not to "bite off his nose to spite his face." He declared that he would not let the likes of Ellery Hicks upset his plans for touring the Yellowstone, and while his wife refused to return he meant to carry out his original intention.

But the real reason for Mr. Stott's decision, as Wallie suspected from the frequency with which he had discovered him sitting upon a log in secluded spots counting his money, was that the hotel rates and motor fare were far higher then he had antic.i.p.ated.

Mrs. Stott's absence did not leave the gap which she had antic.i.p.ated. In fact, after the first evening her name was never mentioned, and Mr.

Stott's marital ties rested so lightly upon him that a stranger would never have known they existed. He gravitated toward Miss Gaskett with a prompt.i.tude which gave rise to the suspicion that he had had his eye upon her, and Miss Gaskett responded so enthusiastically that it was a matter for gossip.

It was noted that she took to doing her hair up at night on "wavers" and used her lipstick with greater frequency, and whereas she had vowed she meant never again to get in the saddle she now rode with Mr. Stott daily.

The ladies who had known Miss Gaskett for twenty-five years, and nothing to her discredit, were not prepared to say that she was a huzzy and a vampire without further evidence, but they admitted to each other privately that they always had felt there was something queer and not quite straightforward about Mattie.

Miss Gaskett, who looked like a returned missionary that had had a hard time of it carrying the Light into the dark places, seemed rather elated than depressed at the aspersions cast upon her character, and by the time they reached the "Paint Pots" she was flaunting Mr. Stott shamelessly, calling him "Harry" before everybody, and in the evening sitting with him by the camp-fire on the same saddle-blanket.

At Mammoth Hot Springs Mrs. Budlong showed her disapproval by refusing to speak to Miss Gaskett, and Miss Gaskett replied by putting on a peek-a-boo blouse that was a scandal.

But Mrs. Budlong herself was not in too high favour, since to the sin of gluttony she had added that of lying and been caught at it. It was a small matter, but, as Mrs. Appel declared indignantly, it is trifles that betray character, and Mrs. Budlong was treated with marked coldness by the ladies to whom she had prevaricated.

It was known beyond the question of a doubt that Mrs. Budlong had purchased food and kept it in her teepee. Therefore, when asked for something to ward off a faint feeling before dinner and she had denied having anything, they were outspoken in their resentment.

"There she stood and lied to our faces," Mrs. Appel declared to her husband afterward, "while her mouth was s.h.i.+ning. I could smell sardines on her and a big cracker crumb was lying on her bosom. Indeed, it's a true saying they have in this country that to know people you must camp with them. I never would have thought that of Hannah Budlong!"

It was because of this incident, and the strained relations which resulted from her perfidy, that none of her erstwhile friends responded to her invitation to join her in a bath in a beaver dam of which Mr.

Hicks told her when they camped early the next afternoon.

Mrs. Budlong's phlegmatic body contained an adventurous spirit, and the delights of a bath in a beaver dam in the heart of a primeval forest appealed to her strongly.

To Mr. Hicks, who sought her out purposely to tell her about it, she confided:

"Hicks, underneath my worldly exterior I am a Child of Nature. I love the simple, the primitive. I would live as a Wild Thing if I could choose my environment."

Mr. Hicks nodded sympathetically and understandingly, and returned the confidence.

"I am convinced that I was a faun when the world was young. There are times when I feel the stirrings of my wild nature."

Mrs. Budlong regarded him attentively. She never had thought of him as a faun but now she noticed that his ears _were_ peculiar.

n.o.body could have been more obliging and interesting than Mr. Hicks as he guided her to the beaver dam and explained its construction. It had long since been abandoned by the industrious animals that had built it, but their work had been so well done that it was in as good condition as when they had left it.

There was nothing to fear from beavers; anyway, Hicks a.s.sured her, he never had known a beaver to attack anybody. In this isolated spot she was as safe from intrusion as if she were in her own bathroom, and, after tramping down a spot in the brush for her to stand on, he went away declaring that he was sure she would have an experience she always would remember.

Left alone, Mrs. Budlong felt of the water. It was, as Hicks had said, even warmer than tepid from standing--an ideal temperature. The brush grew high around the pond formed by the back-water and made a perfect shelter. No fear of prying eyes need disturb her.

Then a daring thought came to her which made her black eyes sparkle.

Suppose she did not wear any bathing suit! What an adventure to relate to her intimate friends when she returned to Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania!

It laid hold of her imaginative mind, and the result was that Mrs.

Budlong hung her suit on a bush and went in _au naturelle_.

She waded in cautiously, for the bottom was soft and oozy and there were little patches of green floating on the surface that she did not so much like the looks of. Otherwise conditions were perfect, and Mrs. Budlong submerged like a submarine when she reached the middle of it. She came up and stood looking at the sky above her, enjoying the feeling of the suns.h.i.+ne on her skin, and the soft, warm breeze that caressed her. She smiled at an interested blue-jay, then submerged again, deeper, and the tide rose so that the water lapped bushes and pebbles that had not been wet all summer.

Her smile grew wider as she thought what the others were missing, and was considering how much she dared embellish the adventure without being detected, when, suddenly, a look of horror came to her face and stayed there, while screams that sounded more like the screeches of a lynx or mountain-lion than those of a human being scared the blue-jay and brought those in camp up standing. Piercing, hair-raising, unnatural as they were, Mr. Budlong recognized them.

"My wife! Help! Murder! Hicks, where is she? Find a weapon and come with us!"

"I gotta get supper," Hicks replied, heartlessly.

Mr. Appel, Mr. Stott, and old Mr. Penrose dashed into their tents and dashed out carrying firearms that had been sealed by the Park officials, as is customary, while Mr. Budlong in his frenzy s.n.a.t.c.hed a pair of scissors from Miss Eyester and headed the posse which expected to pursue the murderer. He was not a murderer yet, however, for Mrs. Budlong's screams had not diminished in volume, although it was feared that worse than death might already have befallen her. Her shrieks guided them like a lighthouse siren, so they lost no time in taking wrong directions but, at that, it was a considerable distance and Mr. Budlong, in spite of the agonized thoughts which goaded him forward, was so handicapped by his asthma that he gradually fell to the rear of the rescue party.

Mr. Stott was then in the lead, with Mr. Appel a close second, until the latter, who was wearing bedroom slippers, stumped his toes against a rock with such force that he believed them broken. He dropped down immediately with the pain of it and sat weaving to and fro, clasping his foot to his breast while the others pa.s.sed him.

Mr. Stott called that help was arriving as he crashed through the brush in the vicinity of the beaver dam. To his astonishment Mrs. Budlong shrieked:

"Don't come!" and went on screaming. When he reached the pond he stopped short and stood there, and old Mr. Penrose joined him an instant later.

Mr. Appel, alternately limping and hopping yet covering ground with surprising rapidity, reached the others ahead of Mr. Budlong, who, staggering with exhaustion, huge drops on his pallid face, and wheezing like an old accordeon, all but fainted when he saw the wife of his bosom.

Mrs. Budlong, looking like a corn-fed Aphrodite, stood in the middle of the pool, with her fat white back, wet and glistening, flecked with brown particles that resembled decayed vegetation.

"What's the matter, Honey Dumplin'?" cried Mr. Budlong, shocked and bewildered.

For answer, Mrs. Budlong screamed the harder.

"I know!" piped up Mr. Appel. "She's covered with leeches--blood-suckers--and can't get 'em off. I got 'em once swimmin'

in stagnant water."

When he spoke he called attention to the fact of his presence and that of Mr. Stott and old Mr. Penrose. Instead of being grateful for the information, and for the a.s.sistance the others had expected to render, Mr. Budlong turned upon them all furiously:

"Get out of here you Peeping Toms and spying libertines! Haven't you any shame about you?"

He raised the scissors so threateningly that as soon as they recovered from their astonishment they retreated, but, at that, their haste was not sufficient to appease an outraged husband. Mr. Budlong picked up a pebble and threw it with such a sure aim that it bounced between Mr.