He was sitting on a log by the fire, smoking a pipe and looking very sad.  Behind him was a bit of a tent not much larger than an umbrella.

Aggie touched my arm.  “My heart aches for him,” she said.  “There is despair in his very eyes.”

I do not believe that at first he was very glad to see us, but he softened somewhat when Tish held out the cake she had brought.

“That’s very nice of you,” he said, rising.  “I’m afraid I can’t ask you to sit down.  The ground’s wet and there is only this log.”

“I’ve sat on logs before,” Tish replied.  “We thought we’d call, seeing we are neighbors.  As the first comers it was our place to call first, of course.”

“I see,” he said, and poked up the fire with a piece of stick.

“We felt that you might be lonely,” said Aggie.

“I came here to be lonely,” he replied gloomily.  “I want to be lonely.”

Tish, however, was determined to be cheerful, and asked him, as a safe subject, how he felt about the war.

“War?” he said.  “That’s so, there is a war.  To tell the truth, I had forgotten about it.  I’ve been thinking of other things.”

We saw that it was going to be difficult to cheer him.  Tish tried the weather, which brought us nowhere, as he merely grunted.  But Aggie broached the subject of desperadoes, and he roused somewhat.

“There are plenty of shady characters in the park,” he said shortly.  “Wolves in sheep’s clothing, that’s what they are.”

“Bill, our guide, says there may be a holdup at any time.”

“Sure there is,” he said calmly.  “There’s one going to be pulled off in the next day or two.”

We sat petrified, and Aggie’s eyes were starting out of her head.

“All the trimmings,” he went on, staring at the fire.  “Innocent and unsuspecting tourists, lunch, laughter, boiled coffee, and cold ham.  Ambush.  The whole business—­followed by highwaymen in flannel shirts and revolvers.  Dead tourist or two, desperate resistance—­everything.”

Aggie rose, pale as an aspen.  “You—­you are joking!” she cried.

“Do I look like it?” he demanded fiercely.  “I tell you there is going to be the whole thing.  At the end the lovely girl will escape on horseback and ride madly for aid.  She will meet the sheriff and a posse, who are out for a picnic or some such damfool nonsense, and—­”

“Young man,” Tish said coldly, “if you know all this, why are you sitting here and not alarming the authorities?”

“Pooh!” he said disagreeably.  “It’s a put-up scheme, to advertise the park.  Yellowstone’s got ahead of them this year, and has had its excitement, with all the papers ringing with it.  That was a gag, too, probably.”

“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.”