Tish’s face expressed the greatest rage.  She rose, drawing herself to her full height.

“And the tourists?” she demanded.  “They lend themselves to this imposition?  To this infamy?  To this turpitude?”

“Certainly not.  They think it’s the real thing.  The whole business hangs on that.  And as the sheriff, or whoever it is in the fool plot, captures the bandits, the party gets its money back, and has material for conversation for the next twenty years.”

“To think,” said Tish, “of our great National Government lending itself to such a scheme!”

“Wrong,” said the young man.  “It’s a combination of Western railroads and a movie concern acting together.”

“I trust,” Tish observed, setting her lips firmly, “that the tourists will protest.”

“The more noise, the better.”  The young man, though not more cheerful as to appearance, was certainly more talkative.  “Trust a clergyman for yelling when his pocket’s picked.”

With one voice the three of us exclaimed:  “Mr. Ostermaier!”

He was not sure of the name, but “Helen” had pointed the clergyman out to him, and it was Mr. Ostermaier without a doubt.

We talked it over with Bill when we got back, and he was not as surprised as we’d expected.

“Knew they were cooking up something.  They’ve got some Indians in it too.  Saw them rehearsing old Thunder Mountain the other day in nothing but a breech-clout.”

Tish reproved him for a lack of delicacy of speech, and shortly afterward we went to bed.  Owing to the root under the tent, and puddles here and there, we could not go to sleep for a time, and we discussed the “nefarious deed,” as Tish aptly termed it, that was about to take place.

“Although,” Tish observed, “Mr. Ostermaier has been receiving for so many years that it might be a good thing, for his soul’s sake, to have him give up something, even if to bandits.”  I dozed off after a time, but awakened to find Tish sitting up, wide awake.

“I’ve been thinking that thing over, Lizzie,” she said in a low tone.  “I believe it’s our duty to interfere.”

“Of course,” I replied sarcastically; “and be shown all over the country in the movies making fools of ourselves.”

“Did you notice that that young man said they would be firing blank cartridges?”

Well, even a blank cartridge can be a dangerous thing.  Then and there I reminded her of my niece’s boy, who was struck on the Fourth of July by a wad from one, and had to be watched for lockjaw for several weeks.

It was at that moment that we heard Bill, who had no tent, by choice, and lay under a tree, give a loud whoop, followed by what was unmistakably an oath.

“Bear!” he yelled.  “Watch out, he’s headed for the tent!  It’s a grizzly.”

Tish felt round wildly for her revolver, but it was gone!  And the bear was close by.  We could hear it snuffing about, and to add to the confusion Aggie wakened and commenced to sneeze with terror.