Aggie reminded him that faint heart never won fair lady, but he only shook his head.

“I’m not so sure that I want to win,” he said.  “Marriage is a serious business, and I don’t know that I’d care to have a wife that followed a camera like a street kid follows a brass band.  It wouldn’t make for a quiet home.”

We left him staring wistfully into the distance.

Tish sat in her saddle and surveyed the mountain peaks that rose behind the hotel.

“Twenty centuries are looking down upon us!” she said.  “The crest of our native land lies before us.  We will conquer those beetling crags, or die trying.  All right, Bill.  Forward!”

Bill led off, followed by the pack-horse, then Tish, Aggie and myself.  We kept on in this order for some time, which gave me a chance to observe Aggie carefully.  I am not much of a horsewoman myself, having never been on a horse before.  But my father was fond of riding, and I soon adapted myself to the horse’s gait, especially when walking.  On level stretches, however, where Bill spurred his horse to a trot, I was not so comfortable, and Aggie appeared to strike the saddle in a different spot every time she descended.

Once, on her turning her profile to me in a glance of despair, I was struck by the strange and collapsed appearance of her face.  This was explained, however, when my horse caught up to hers on a wider stretch of road, and I saw that she had taken out her teeth and was holding them in her hand.

“Al-almost swallowed them,” she gasped.  “Oh, Lizzie, to think of a summer of this!”

At last we left the road and turned onto a footpath, which instantly commenced to rise.  Tish called back something about the beauties of nature and riding over a carpet of flowers, but my horse was fording a small stream at the time and I was too occupied to reply.  The path—­or trail, which is what Bill called it—­grew more steep, and I let go of the lines and held to the horn of my saddle.  The horses were climbing like goats.

“Tish,” Aggie called desperately, “I can’t stand this.  I’m going back!  I’m—­Lordamighty!”

Fortunately Tish did not hear this.  We had suddenly emerged on the brink of a precipice.  A two-foot path clung to the cliff, and along the very edge of this the horses walked, looking down in an interested manner now and then.  My blood turned to water and I closed my eyes.

“Tish!” Aggie shrieked.

But the only effect of this was to start her horse into a trot.  I had closed my eyes, but I opened them in time to see Aggie give a wild clutch and a low moan.

In a few moments the trail left the edge, and Aggie turned in her saddle and looked back at me.

“I lost my lower set back there,” she said.  “They went over the edge.  I suppose they’re falling yet.”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t the upper set,” I said, to comfort her.  “As far as appearance goes—­”