I have set down exactly what Aggie said.  I admit that the provocation was great.  But Tish was not one to make allowances, and she turned and went on, leaving us alone.  She is not without feeling, however, for from the top of the pass she sent Bill down with a rope, and we dragged poor Aggie to the trail again.  Her nerves were shaken and she was repentant also, for when she found that her hat was gone she said nothing, although her eyes took on a hunted look.

At the top of the pass Tish was sitting on a stone.  She had taken her mending-box from the saddle, where she always kept it handy, and was drawing up a hole in her stocking.  I observed to her pleasantly that it was a sign of scandal to mend clothing while still on, but she ignored me, although, as I reflected bitterly, I had not been kicked over the cliff.

It was a subdued and speechless Aggie who followed us that afternoon along the trail.  As her hat was gone, I took the spare dish towel and made a turban for her, with an end hanging down to protect the back of her neck.  But she expressed little gratitude, beyond observing that as she was going over the edge piecemeal, she’d better have done it all at once and be through with it.

The afternoon wore away slowly.  It seemed a long time until we reached our camping-place, partly because, although a small eater ordinarily, the air and exercise had made me feel famished.  But the disagreement between Tish and Aggie, owing to the latter’s unfortunate exclamation while kicked over the cliff, made the time seem longer.  There was not the usual exchange of pleasant nothings between us.

But by six o’clock Tish was more amiable, having seen bear scratches on trees near the camp, and anticipating the sight of a bear.  She mixed up a small cup cake while Bill was putting up our tent, and then, taking her rod, proceeded to fish, while Aggie and I searched for grasshoppers.  These were few, owing to the altitude, but we caught four, which we imprisoned in a match-box.

With them Tish caught four trout and, broiling them nicely, she offered one to poor Aggie.  It was a peace offering, and taken as such, so that we were soon on our former agreeable footing, and all forgotten.

The next day it rained, and we were obliged to sit in the tent.  Bill sat with us, and talked mainly of desperadoes.

“As I observed before,” he said, “there hasn’t been any tourist holdup yet.  But it’s bound to come.  Take the Yellowstone, now,—­one holdup a year’s the average, and it’s full of soldiers at that.”

“It’s a wonder people keep on going,” I observed moving out of a puddle.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said.  “In one way it’s good business.  I take it this way:  When folks come West they want the West they’ve read about.  What do they care for irrigation and apple orchards?  What they like is danger and a little gunplay, the sort of thing they see in these here moving pictures.”