The Best of Mary Roberts Rinehart

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

  "A holdup?" Tish asked. Her enthusiasm seemed to have flagged somewhat, but at this she brightened up.

  "Yes'm. You see, we're near the Canadian border, and it would be easy for a gang to slip over and back again. Don't know why we've never had one. Yellowstone can boast of a number."

  I observed tartly that I considered it nothing to boast of, but Bill did not agree with me.

  "It doesn't hurt a neighborhood none," he observed. "Adds romance, as you might say."

  He went on and, happening to slide on a piece of shale at that moment, I sat down unexpectedly and the horse put its foot on me.

  I felt embittered and helpless, but the others kept on.

  "Very well," I said, "go on. Don't mind me. If this creature wants to sit in my lap, well and good. I expect it's tired."

  But as they went on callously, I was obliged to shove the creature off and to hobble on. Bill was still babbling about holdups, and Aggie was saying that he was sunstruck, but of course it did not matter.

  We made very slow progress, owing to taking frequent rests, and late in the afternoon we were overtaken by Mr. Bell, on foot and carrying a pack. He would have passed on without stopping, but Aggie hailed him.

  "Not going to hike, are you?" she said pleasantly. Aggie is fond of picking up the vernacular of a region.

  "No," he said in a surly tone quite unlike his former urbane manner, "I'm merely taking this pack out for a walk."

  But he stopped and mopped his face.

  "To tell you the truth, ladies," he said, "I'm working off a little steam, that's all. I was afraid, if I stayed round the hotel, I'd do something I'd be sorry for. There are times when I am not a fit companion for any one, and this is one of them."

  We invited him to join us, but he refused.

  "No, I'm better alone," he said. "When things get too strong for me on the trail I can sling things about. I've been throwing boulders down the mountain every now and then. I'd just as soon they hit somebody as not. Also," he added, "I'm safer away from any red-headed men."

  We saw him glance at Bill, and understood. Mr. Oliver was red-headed.

  "Love's an awful thing," said Bill as the young man went on, kicking stones out of his way. "I'm glad I ain't got it."

  Tish turned and eyed him. "True love is a very beautiful thing," she rebuked him. "Although a single woman myself, I believe in it. 'Come live with me and be my love,'" she quoted, sitting down to shake a stone out of her riding-boot.

  Bill looked startled. "I might say," he said hastily, "that I may have misled you, ladies. I'm married."

  "You said you had never been in love," Tish said sharply.

  "Well, not to say real love," he replied. "She was the cook of an outfit I was with and it just came about natural. She was going to leave, which meant that I'd have to do the cooking, which I ain't much at, especially pastry. So I married her."

  Tish gave him a scornful glance but said nothing and we went on.

  We camped late that afternoon beside Two Medicine Lake, and while Bill put up the tents the three of us sat on a log and soaked our aching feet in the water which was melted glacier, and naturally cold.

  What was our surprise, on turning somewhat, to see the angry lover fishing on a point near by. While we stared he pulled out a large trout, and stalked away without a glance in our direction. As Tish, with her usual forethought, had brought a trout rod, she hastily procured it, but without result.

  "Of course," Aggie said, "no fish! I could eat a piece of broiled fish. I dare say I shall be skin and bone at the end of this trip--and not much skin."

  Bill had set up the sleeping-tent and built a fire, and it looked cozy and comfortable. But Tish had the young man on her mind, and after supper she put on a skirt which she had brought along and went to see him.

  "I'd take him some supper, Bill," she said, "but you are correct: you are no cook."

  She disappeared among the bushes, only to return in a short time, jerking off her skirt as she came.

  "He says all he wants is to be let alone," she said briefly. "I must say I'm disappointed in him. He was very agreeable before."

  I pass without comment over the night. Bill had put up the tent over the root of a large tree, and we disposed ourselves about it as well as we could. In the course of the night one of the horses broke loose and put its head inside the tent. Owing to Aggie's thinking it was a bear, Tish shot at it, fortunately missing it.

  But the frightened animal ran away, and Bill was until noon the next day finding it. We cooked our own breakfast, and Tish made some gems, having brought the pan along. But the morning dragged, although the scenery was lovely.

  At twelve Bill brought the horse back and came over to us.

  "If you don't mind my saying it, Miss Carberry," he observed, "you're a bit too ready with that gun. First thing you know you'll put a hole through me, and then where will you be?"

  "I've got along without men most of my life," Tish said sharply. "I reckon we'd manage."

  "Well," he said, "there's another angle to it. Where would I be?"

  "That's between you and your Creator," Tish retorted.

  We went on again that afternoon, and climbed another precipice. We saw no human being except a mountain goat, although Bill claimed to have seen a bear. Tish was quite calm at all times, and had got so that she could look down into eternity without a shudder. But Aggie and I were still nervous, and at the steepest places we got off and walked.

  The unfortunate part was that the exercise and the mountain air made Aggie hungry, and there was little that she could eat.

  "If any one had told me a month ago," she said, mopping her forehead, "that I would be scaling the peaks of my country on crackers and tea, I wouldn't have believed it. I'm done out, Lizzie. I can't climb another inch."

  Bill was ahead with the pack horse, and Tish, overhearing her, called back some advice.

  "Take your horse's tail and let him pull you up, Aggie," she said. "I've read it somewhere."

  Aggie, although frequently complaining, always does as Tish suggests. So she took the horse's tail, when a totally unexpected thing happened. Docile as the creature generally was, it objected at once, and kicked out with both rear feet. In a moment, it seemed to me, Aggie was gone, and her horse was moving on alone.

  "Aggie!" I called in a panic.

  Tish stopped, and we both looked about. Then we saw her, lying on a ledge about ten feet below the trail. She was flat on her back, and her riding-hat was gone. But she was uninjured, although shaken, for as we looked she sat up, and an agonized expression came over her face.

  "Aggie!" I cried. "Is anything broken?"

  "Damnation!" said Aggie in an awful voice. "The upper set is gone!"

  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 a
nd 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."

  "I'm sure I don't," Aggie remarked. It was growing dusk, and she peered out into the forest round us. "There is something crackling out there now," she said.

  "Only a bear, likely," Bill assured her. "We have a sight of bears here. No, ma'am, they want danger. And every holdup's an advertisement. You see, the Government can't advertise these here parks; not the way it should, anyhow. But a holdup's news, so the papers print it, and it sets people to thinking about the park. Maybe they never thought of the place and are arranging to go elsewhere. Then along comes a gang and raises h--, raises trouble, and the park's in every one's mouth, so to speak. We'd get considerable business if there was one this summer."

  At that moment the crackling outside increased, and a shadowy form emerged from the bushes. Even Bill stood up, and Aggie screamed.

  It was, however, only poor Mr. Bell.

  "Mind if I borrow some matches?" he said gruffly.

  "We can't lend matches," Tish replied. "At least, I don't see the use of sending them back after they've been lighted. We can give you some."

  "My mistake," he said.

  That was all he said, except the word "Thanks" when I reached him a box.

  "He's a surly creature," Tish observed as he crackled through the brush again. "More than likely that girl's better off without him."

  "He looks rather downhearted," Aggie remarked. "Much that we think is temper is due to unhappiness."

  "Much of your charitable view is due to a good dinner too," Tish said. "Here we are, in the center of the wilderness, with great peaks on every hand, and we meet a fellow creature who speaks nine words, and begrudges those. If he's as stingy with money as with language she's hard a narrow escape."

  "He's had kind of a raw deal," Bill put in. "The girl was stuck on him all right, until this moving-picture chap came along. He offered to take some pictures with her in them, and it was all off. They're making up a play now, and she's to be in it."

  "What sort of a play?" Tish demanded.

  "Sorry not to oblige," Bill replied. "Can't say the nature of it."

  But all of us felt that Bill knew and would not say.

  Tish, to whom a mystery is a personal affront, determined to find out for herself; and when later in the evening we saw the light of Bell's camp-fire, it was Tish herself who suggested that we go over and visit with him.

  "We can converse about various things," she said, "and take his mind from his troubles. But it would be better not to mention affairs of the heart. He's probably sensitive."

  So we left Bill to look after things, and went to call on Mr. Bell. It was farther to his camp than it had appeared, and Tish unfortunately ran into a tree and bruised her nose badly. When it had stopped bleeding, however, we went on, and at last arrived.

  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."

  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.

  "Bill!" Tish called. "I've lost my revolver!"

  "I took it, Miss Carberry. But I've been lying in a puddle, and it won't go off."