of Flamingo Camp Fire,
Marion's mother, sister, and brother were present at this scene in the
big living room of the Stanlock home. Mr. Stanlock covertly watched
the faces of his auditors and was pleased to note that his bandying
words were rapidly bringing the tension back to normal. Young Master
Harold at this point helped his father's purpose along remarkably by
piping forth:

"It's mighty funny if a man can't be out after dark without a lot o'
women jumpin' on 'im."

Nobody with a grain of humor in his soul, if that is where the sense
of fun is located, could have restrained a laugh at that remark. In a
moment it would have been difficult for any one of those present to
realize how tragically serious they had all been a few minutes before.

After the chorus of laughter had subsided, Mr. Stanlock sat down in a
large upholstered armchair, and remarked to his unconsciously
brilliant son:

"You are a great protector of women-oppressed man, aren't you, Harold.
Your chief virtue along this line is your ability to get the
philosophical high spots of every-day gossip. But don't stop there, my
able young advocate. Do you realize that your father has had no dinner
and that this exacting bevy of girls is going to force me to suffer
the pangs of hunger until I have told my story?"

"I just told Mary (the head maid) to get your dinner ready," Mrs.
Stanlock interposed smilingly. "You won't need to go hungry more than
fifteen minutes longer."

"I see that you don't appreciate an eager and attentive audience,"
Marion remarked, affecting to be deeply offended in behalf of her
guests. "Very well, we'll wait until after you have satisfied a mere
man's appetite, and then we'll condescend to listen."

"Oh, I can tell it in fifteen minutes while Mary is warming over the
meat and potatoes. Now, get ready, all you young ladies, for the first
shock. I was really and truly held up."

"Held up!" exclaimed several of the girls in chorus.

"Yes, held up, with guns pointed at the chauffeur's head by two masked
men on a lonely highway."

"You're joking," said Marion, dubiously.

"All right," said the mine owner, settling back comfortably in his
chair. "You insisted on my telling my story, and now that I have begun
it, you won't believe my first sentence."

"Yes, I do believe it, papa," Marion said repentantly, going close to
her father's chair and putting her arm around his neck. "I believe you
were held up by two masked highwayme