t the gate, her hands clinched in the effort to
control her laughter. "You are late. Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Famished!" said Parker. "I had to ride slow on Mrs. Parker's account."

"I like that!" cried Jennie. "As if any one could be a worse rider than
you are."

"How do women get off, anyway?" asked Parker, as he approached his
wife's pony.

"Fall off," suggested Jennie, and this seemed so funny that she and
Elsie went off into simultaneous hysterical peals of laughter.

"You are easily amused," remarked Parker, eying them keenly. "Laugh on;
it is good for digestion. Excuse me from joining; I haven't anything to
digest."

Putting his angular shoulder to Mrs. Parker's waist, he eased her to the
ground awkwardly but tenderly. Upon facing the girls again and
discovering them still in foolish mirth, Parker looked himself all over
carefully, then turned to his wife. "We seem to be affording these young
ladies a great deal of hearty pleasure, Mrs. Parker."

Mrs. Parker was not so dense. "What is the matter?" she asked, sharply.
"What has happened? This laughter is not natural--you are both
hysterical."

Both girls instantly became as grave as they had been hilarious a moment
before.

"Now I _know_ something is wrong," said Mrs. Parker. "Where is the
Captain? What made you laugh that way? Have the savages broken out?"

Jennie met Parker's eyes fairly popping from his head, and went off into
another shout. At last she paused and said, breathlessly: "Oh, you are
funny! Come into the house. We've been entertaining a lynching
party--all the Indians are in the hills and the sheriff's in the office
throttling the agent."

While the Parkers consumed their crusts of bread and scraps of cold
meat, Jennie told them what had happened.

Parker rose to the occasion. "We must get out o' here--every one of us!
We should never have come in here. Your brother is to blame; he deceived
us."

"He did not!" replied Jennie. "You shall not hold him responsible!"

"He knew the situation was critical," Parker hotly retorted. "He knew an
outbreak was likely. It was criminal on his part."

"Jerome Parker, you are a donkey," remarked Elsie, calmly. "Nothing has
really happened. If you're so nervous, go home. You can't sculp an
Indian, anyway--grasshoppers and sheep are in your line." She had
reverted to the plain talk of the studios. "Your nervousness amused us
for a while, but it bores us now. Please shut up and run away if you