ted enumerating his grievances he would not know where to finish. "Pleasant people, aren't they?" Wallie suggested. "So is a menagerie--after it's eaten." "They do have appetites," Wallie admitted. "I suppose it's living in the open." "I've cooked for section hands on the Burlington, and they were canary-birds beside these Poland Chinas. We had ought to brought troughs instead of tinware." "You mustn't speak so of our guests," Wallie reprimanded. Hicks went on wrathfully: "That fat sister in the cameo breastpin--she swiped a can of potted chicken on me yesterday--she's a regular 'camp-robber'." Wallie interposed hastily: "We mustn't have any trouble. I want to get through this trip peaceably. In fact, Mr. Hicks, it's along this line that I wished to have a word with you." Mr. Hicks looked at him quickly and suspiciously. "Has any of 'em been kickin' on me?" Wallie hesitated, casting a furtive eye about as he did so for the most convenient exit. "Not kicking, I wouldn't say _kicking_, Mr. Hicks, but it has been suggested--I have been thinking that it might be _pleasanter_ for you and Red to have your own table." Mr. Hicks stopped turning over the potatoes and looked at him for what seemed to Wallie a full minute. "In other words," he said, finally, in a voice that was oily and coaxing, as if he wanted the truth from him, "the dudes don't want the cook and the horse-wrangler to eat with them?" Wallie noticed uneasily that while Hicks spoke he was tentatively feeling the edge of the knife he had been using. Instinctively Wallie's eyes sought the route he had selected, as he replied conciliatingly: "No reflection upon you and Red is intended, Mr. Hicks; it is just that Eastern people have different customs, and we have to humour them, although we may not agree with them." There was another silence, in which Hicks continued to thumb the knife in a manner that kept Wallie at a tension, then he said with a suavity which somehow was more menacing than an outburst: "Perhaps it _would_ be better for us rough-necks to eat at the second table. It hadn't occurred to me that our society might not be agreeable to ladies and gentlemen. I'm glad you mentioned it." Hicks seemed to purr, actually. His tone was caressing--like the velvet touch of a tiger--and his humble acceptance of the situation was so unnatural that Wallie felt himself shiver with apprehension. Was he capable of putting ground-glass in the sugar, he wondered, or dropping a spider in something? "Red" was plainly disgruntled when he found himself, as it were, segregated, and he sulked openly; but Hicks, on the contrary, was so urbane and respectful that everyone remarked his changed manner, and Mrs. Stott triumphantly demanded to know if it were not proof of her contention that servants were the better for being occasionally reminded of their position. "I am not a snob," she reiterated, "but common people really spoil my appetite when I am obliged to eat with them." Wallie, however, could not share her elation, for there was that in Mr. Hicks' eye whenever he met it which renewed his uneasy forebodings as to ground glass and spiders. CHAPTER XXIV HICKS THE AVENGER The remarkable change in Mr. Hicks' manner continued the next morning. It was so radical that no one could fail to observe it and the comments were frequent, while Mrs. Stott crowed openly. From haughty independence he had become so anxious to please that he was almost servile, and his manner toward the wife of the rising young attorney particularly was that of a humble retainer fawning at the feet of royalty. During breakfast he stood at a respectful distance, speaking only when spoken to, and jumping to serve them. This attitude quickly dissipated the fear which he had inspired in The Happy Family, and by noon they were not only calling him "Hicks" but "Ellery." Then, this stage of familiarity having been passed in safety, Mr. Stott humorously dubbed him "Cookie," and the name was adopted by everyone. Mrs. Budlong ventured to complain that there was too much shortening in the biscuit. This was a real test of the sincerity of his reformation since, if such a thing were possible, he had been even more "touchy" upon the subject of his cooking than his dignity. No one could doubt but that the change was genuine when he not only received the criticism meekly but actually thanked her for calling his attention to it. Thus encouraged, Mr. Appel declared that he wished he would not fry the ham to chips and boil the "daylights" out of the coffee. Mr. Hicks bowed servilely and replied that he would try to remember in future. Mrs. Stott took occasion to remark that his vegetables would be better for less seasoning and more cooking, and Miss Gaskett thought his dried fruit would be improved by soaking over night and additional sweetening. Mr. Hicks received these criticisms in a humility that was pathetic when compared with his former arrogance. He looked crushed as he stood with bowed head and drooping shoulders as if his proud, untrammelled spirit had been suddenly broken. Miss Eyester felt sorry for him and asserted that she could not recall when she had enjoyed food so much and eaten so heartily. Indeed, she had been such a gourmand that she had gained a pound and six ounces, if the scales upon which she had been weighed in Prouty were accurate. Mr. Stott, however, who was in one of his waggish moods, undid all that she might have accomplished in the way of soothing Hicks' injured feelings, by inquiring facetiously if he would mind rolling him out a couple of pie-crusts to be tanned and made into bedroom slippers. Mr. Hicks laughed heartily along with the others, and only Wallie caught the murderous glitter through his downcast lashes. It developed that the Yellowstone Park was a place with which Hicks was thoroughly familiar from having made several trips around the Circle. He was not only acquainted with points of interest off the beaten track passed unseen by the average tourist, but he suggested many original and diverting sports--like sliding down a snowbank in a frying-pan--which would not have occurred to any of them. By the time the party had reached the Lake Hotel they were consulting him like a Baedeker, and he answered every question, however foolish, with a patience and an affability that were most praiseworthy. Their manner toward him was a kind of patronizing camaraderie, while Mrs. Stott treated him with the gracious tolerance of a great lady unbending. A disbelief in the ability of the leopard to change its spots made Wallie sceptical regarding Hicks' altered disposition, yet he did his best to convince himself that he was wrong when Hicks went out and caught a trout from the Yellowstone Lake expressly for Mrs. Stott's supper. It was a beautiful fish as it lay on the platter, brown, crisp, and ornamented with lemon. Mr. Hicks offered it much as the head of John the Baptist might have been brought to Salome. "Thank you, Hicks," said Mrs. Stott, kindly. "I hope you'll like it, ma'am," he murmured, humbly. The mark of favour seemed to bear out Mrs. Stott's contention that inferiors should not be treated as equals in any circumstances. Now, with her fork in the fish, Mrs. Stott looked around the table and inquired graciously if she might not divide it with someone? Everyone politely declined except Mrs. Budlong, who looked at it so wistfully that Mrs. Stott lost no time in transferring it to her plate. She ate with gusto and declared after tasting it: "It is delicious, simply delicious! I never remember eating another with quite the same delicate flavour. I presume," addressing herself to Mr. Hicks, who was standing with arms akimbo enjoying her enjoy it, "it is due to something in the water?" "I presume so," he replied, respectfully, and added: "The trout in the Yellowstone Lake are said to be very nourishing." It was natural that Mrs. Stott should feel a little flattered by this evidence of partiality even from a menial, also she noticed that Mrs. Budlong was following each mouthful with the eyes of a hungry bird-dog so she could not refrain from saying further: "It is such a delightful change from ham and bacon. I am not sure," she averred, laughingly, "that I shall not eat the head and fins, even." "I wish _I_ was in such favour," Mrs. Budlong declared, enviously. "Never mind, Honey Dumplin'," said Mr. Budlong, "I shall go out after supper and catch your breakfast." "You ought to get a boatload," Hicks added quickly, "if you find the right place." "I saw them jumping by the million where I was walking before supper." Mr. Appel volunteered to conduct Mr. Budlong to the spot as soon as they were finished eating. Everyone who had fishing-tackle decided to avail himself of this wonderful opportunity, and they all followed Mr. Appel except Mr. and Mrs. Stott, who preferred to fish by themselves from the bridge over the Yellowstone river. They were the last to leave but returned in not more than twenty minutes, Mr. Stott supporting his wife in what seemed to be a fainting condition. Wallie hastened forward to lend his assistance if necessary. "Is she ill?" he inquired, solicitously. "Ill! She is sick at her stomach and no wonder!" He was plainly angry and appeared to direct his wrath at Wallie. While Wallie wondered, it did not seem a propitious moment to ask questions, and he would have turned away had Mr. Stott not said peremptorily: "Wait a minute. I want to speak to you." Having laid Mrs. Stott, who was shuddering, on her blankets and administered a few drops of aromatic spirits of ammonia, he dropped the flap of her teepee and beckoned Wallie curtly: "You come with me." Wallie could not do else than follow him, his wonder growing as he led the way to the camp kitchen where Mr. Hicks was engaged at the moment in the task which he referred to as "pearl-diving." He did not appear surprised to see them in his domain, on the contrary he seemed rather to be expecting them, for immediately he took his hands out of the dish-water, wiped them on the corner of his apron, and reaching for a convenient stick of stove-wood laid it on the corner of the table with a certain significance in the action. "Make yourself to home, gents," he said, hospitably, indicating the wagon-tongue and a cracker-box for seats, respectively. "Anything in particular I can do for you?" He looked at Mr. Stott guilelessly. "You can answer me a few questions." Mr. Stott fixed a sternly accusing eye upon him. "Hicks, was, or was not, that trout you gave my wife, wormy?" Mr. Hicks, who seemed to relish the situation, pursed his lips and considered. Finally he asked in a tone which showed that he had pride in his legal knowledge: "Will I or will I not incriminate myself by answering?" "You probably will if I'm correct in my suspicions. I want the truth." "Then," replied Mr. Hicks, while his hand slipped carelessly to the stick of stove-wood, "if you force the issue, I will say that I've seen a good many wormy trout come out of the Yellowstone but that was the worst I ever met up with." Mr. Stott advanced belligerently. "And you dare boast of it!" "I'm not boasting--I'm just telling you," replied Mr. Hicks, calmly. "An Eye for an Eye, a Tooth for a Tooth, that's my motto, and your wife thought I wasn't good enough to eat at the table with her." "You hear?" Stott turned to Wallie furiously. "He did it on purpose. I demand that you discharge this fellow!" Mr. Hicks' fingers caressed the stove-wood while he waited Wallie's answer. Wallie squirmed between the two of them. "It was reprehensible, Mr. Stott, I am more distressed than I can tell you. I have no excuse to offer for Hicks' action, but the truth is, as he knows and has taken advantage of it, I cannot replace him and it is impossible to get along without a cook with so large a party." "You will, then, not discharge him?" Stott demanded. "I am helpless," Wallie reiterated. Hicks grinned triumphantly. "In that case," Mr. Stott declared in a tone which implied that a tremendous upheaval of some kind would follow his decision, "my wife and I will leave your party and continue through the Park by motor." Wallie felt that it was useless to argue with any one so determined, so he made no effort to persuade Mr. Stott to remain, though the deflection of two more persons was a serious matter to him and Pinkey. Without waiting to say good-bye to the others, the Stotts paid their bill and departed, walking so erect in their indignation as they started down the road toward the Lake Hotel that they seemed to lean backward. It was not yet dark when Mr. Stott, stepping briskly and carrying his Gladstone bag, raincoat, and umbrella in a jaunty manner, came into camp announcing breezily that he had decided, upon reflection, not to "bite off his nose to spite his face." He declared that he would not let the likes of Ellery Hicks upset his plans for touring the Yellowstone, and while his wife refused to return he meant to carry out his original intention. But the real reason for Mr. Stott's decision, as Wallie suspected from the frequency with which he had discovered him sitting upon a log in secluded spots counting his money, was that the hotel rates and motor fare were far higher then he had anticipated. Mrs. Stott's absence did not leave the gap which she had anticipated. In fact, after the first evening her name was never mentioned, and Mr. Stott's marital ties rested so lightly upon him that a stranger would never have known they existed. He gravitated toward Miss Gaskett with a promptitude which gave rise to the suspicion that he had had his eye upon her, and Miss Gaskett responded so enthusiastically that it was a matter for gossip. It was noted that she took to doing her hair up at night on "wavers" and used her lipstick with greater frequency, and whereas she had vowed she meant never again to get in the saddle she now rode with Mr. Stott daily. The ladies who had known Miss Gaskett for twenty-five years, and nothing to her discredit, were not prepared to say that she was a huzzy and a vampire without further evidence, but they admitted to each other privately that they always had felt there was something queer and not quite straightforward about Mattie. Miss Gaskett, who looked like a returned missionary that had had a hard time of it carrying the Light into the dark places, seemed rather elated than depressed at the aspersions cast upon her character, and by the time they reached the "Paint Pots" she was flaunting Mr. Stott shamelessly, calling him "Harry" before everybody, and in the evening sitting with him by the camp-fire on the same saddle-blanket. At Mammoth Hot Springs Mrs. Budlong showed her disapproval by refusing to speak to Miss Gaskett, and Miss Gaskett replied by putting on a peek-a-boo blouse that was a scandal. But Mrs. Budlong herself was not in too high favour, since to the sin of gluttony she had added that of lying and been caught at it. It was a small matter, but, as Mrs. Appel declared indignantly, it is trifles that betray character, and Mrs. Budlong was treated with marked coldness by the ladies to whom she had prevaricated. It was known beyond the question of a doubt that Mrs. Budlong had purchased food and kept it in her teepee. Therefore, when asked for something to ward off a faint feeling before dinner and she had denied having anything, they were outspoken in their resentment. "There she stood and lied to our faces," Mrs. Appel declared to her husband afterward, "while her mouth was shining. I could smell sardines on her and a big cracker crumb was lying on her bosom. Indeed, it's a true saying they have in this country that to know people you must camp with them. I never would have thought that of Hannah Budlong!" It was because of this incident, and the strained relations which resulted from her perfidy, that none of her erstwhile friends responded to her invitation to join her in a bath in a beaver dam of which Mr. Hicks told her when they camped early the next afternoon. Mrs. Budlong's phlegmatic body contained an adventurous spirit, and the delights of a bath in a beaver dam in the heart of a primeval forest appealed to her strongly. To Mr. Hicks, who sought her out purposely to tell her about it, she confided: "Hicks, underneath my worldly exterior I am a Child of Nature. I love the simple, the primitive. I would live as a Wild Thing if I could choose my environment." Mr. Hicks nodded sympathetically and understandingly, and returned the confidence. "I am convinced that I was a faun when the world was young. There are times when I feel the stirrings of my wild nature." Mrs. Budlong regarded him attentively. She never had thought of him as a faun but now she noticed that his ears _were_ peculiar. Nobody could have been more obliging and interesting than Mr. Hicks as he guided her to the beaver dam and explained its construction. It had long since been abandoned by the industrious animals that had built it, but their work had been so well done that it was in as good condition as when they had left it. There was nothing to fear from beavers; anyway, Hicks assured her, he never had known a beaver to attack anybody. In this isolated spot she was as safe from intrusion as if she were in her own bathroom, and, after tramping down a spot in the brush for her to stand on, he went away declaring that he was sure she would have an experience she always would remember. Left alone, Mrs. Budlong felt of the water. It was, as Hicks had said, even warmer than tepid from standing--an ideal temperature. The brush grew high around the pond formed by the back-water and made a perfect shelter. No fear of prying eyes need disturb her. Then a daring thought came to her which made her black eyes sparkle. Suppose she did not wear any bathing suit! What an adventure to relate to her intimate friends when she returned to Mauch Chunk, Pennsylvania! It laid hold of her imaginative mind, and the result was that Mrs. Budlong hung her suit on a bush and went in _au naturelle_. She waded in cautiously, for the bottom was soft and oozy and there were little patches of green floating on the surface that she did not so much like the looks of. Otherwise conditions were perfect, and Mrs. Budlong submerged like a submarine when she reached the middle of it. She came up and stood looking at the sky above her, enjoying the feeling of the sunshine on her skin, and the soft, warm breeze that caressed her. She smiled at an interested blue-jay, then submerged again, deeper, and the tide rose so that the water lapped bushes and pebbles that had not been wet all summer. Her smile grew wider as she thought what the others were missing, and was considering how much she dared embellish the adventure without being detected, when, suddenly, a look of horror came to her face and stayed there, while screams that sounded more like the screeches of a lynx or mountain-lion than those of a human being scared the blue-jay and brought those in camp up standing. Piercing, hair-raising, unnatural as they were, Mr. Budlong recognized them. "My wife! Help! Murder! Hicks, where is she? Find a weapon and come with us!" "I gotta get supper," Hicks replied, heartlessly. Mr. Appel, Mr. Stott, and old Mr. Penrose dashed into their tents and dashed out carrying firearms that had been sealed by the Park officials, as is customary, while Mr. Budlong in his frenzy snatched a pair of scissors from Miss Eyester and headed the posse which expected to pursue the murderer. He was not a murderer yet, however, for Mrs. Budlong's screams had not diminished in volume, although it was feared that worse than death might already have befallen her. Her shrieks guided them like a lighthouse siren, so they lost no time in taking wrong directions but, at that, it was a considerable distance and Mr. Budlong, in spite of the agonized thoughts which goaded him forward, was so handicapped by his asthma that he gradually fell to the rear of the rescue party. Mr. Stott was then in the lead, with Mr. Appel a close second, until the latter, who was wearing bedroom slippers, stumped his toes against a rock with such force that he believed them broken. He dropped down immediately with the pain of it and sat weaving to and fro, clasping his foot to his breast while the others passed him. Mr. Stott called that help was arriving as he crashed through the brush in the vicinity of the beaver dam. To his astonishment Mrs. Budlong shrieked: "Don't come!" and went on screaming. When he reached the pond he stopped short and stood there, and old Mr. Penrose joined him an instant later. Mr. Appel, alternately limping and hopping yet covering ground with surprising rapidity, reached the others ahead of Mr. Budlong, who, staggering with exhaustion, huge drops on his pallid face, and wheezing like an old accordeon, all but fainted when he saw the wife of his bosom. Mrs. Budlong, looking like a corn-fed Aphrodite, stood in the middle of the pool, with her fat white back, wet and glistening, flecked with brown particles that resembled decayed vegetation. "What's the matter, Honey Dumplin'?" cried Mr. Budlong, shocked and bewildered. For answer, Mrs. Budlong screamed the harder. "I know!" piped up Mr. Appel. "She's covered with leeches--blood-suckers--and can't get 'em off. I got 'em once swimmin' in stagnant water." When he spoke he called attention to the fact of his presence and that of Mr. Stott and old Mr. Penrose. Instead of being grateful for the information, and for the assistance the others had expected to render, Mr. Budlong turned upon them all furiously: "Get out of here you Peeping Toms and spying libertines! Haven't you any shame about you?" He raised the scissors so threateningly that as soon as they recovered from their astonishment they retreated, but, at that, their haste was not sufficient to appease an outraged husband. Mr. Budlong picked up a pebble and threw it with such a sure aim that it bounced between Mr. Stott's shoulder-blades. When he had picked off the blood-suckers that were battening on Mrs. Budlong, the two returned to camp and lost no time in serving notice on Wallie that they were leaving by the first passing conveyance if they had to buy it. Whether or not Mr. Hicks had known of the leeches was a matter for much discussion, and opinion was about equally divided as to his innocence. He disclaimed all knowledge of them, however, and went about with the air of one cruelly maligned. His martyr-like pose was not convincing to Wallie, who could not rid himself of the suspicion that the incident had been planned, though Pinkey contended that he did not believe Hicks was "deep" enough to think of anything like that. "Anyhow, he's cost us three dudes," said Wallie, which remark was sufficient to set Pinkey figuring with a stick. "Three head of dudes at $5.00 a day for, say, eleven days is, say----" "They're gone and that's all there is to it. The thing for us to do is to see that no more leave," Wallie interrupted practically. "I'm not worryin' about them," Pinkey replied, confidently, "if we can jest hold that cook. We've got to humour him till we git through this trip, then after he's paid off I aim to work him over and leave him for somebody to drag out." But as if to make amends for the loss he had caused his employers, Hicks' manner grew increasingly saccharine and he redoubled his efforts to provide entertainment for the guests. By the time they arrived at the Cañon Hotel Wallie was questioning his suspicions of Hicks and felt inclined to believe that he had been hasty in his judgment. He was undoubtedly an asset, for the entire party hung on his words and relied upon him to see that they missed nothing of interest. Mr. Stott was indebted to him for an experience which relegated the Florida hoot-owl to the background, though the thrill of the adventure was so intermingled with anguish that it was impossible to tell where one left off and the other began. Sliding down the snow-covered side of a mountain in a frying-pan was fraught with all the sensations Hicks had described and some he had omitted. When they had reached the particular spot which he had recommended for the sport, in lieu of a frying-pan, Hicks gave Mr. Stott a well-worn gold-pan that he had found somewhere. Starting at the top with the party as spectators, Mr. Stott shot down the side like the proverbial bullet, but midway his whoops of ecstasy changed to cries of acute distress, owing to the fact that the friction wore a hole through the pan to the size of a dollar, and Mr. Stott, unable to stop his unique toboggan or endure the torture longer, turned over and finished the trip on his stomach. Mr. Stott's eyes often rested upon Hicks afterward with a questioning look in them, but the cook's solicitude had been so genuine that cynical as his legal training had made him, he was obliged to think that it was purely an accident which might not happen one time in a million. No point in the Park had been anticipated more than the camp at the Cañon where Mr. Hicks averred that the bears came in swarms to regale themselves upon the hotel garbage. Their tour thus far had been a disappointment in that the wild animals, with which they had been informed the Park teemed, were nowhere in evidence. A deer had crossed the road ahead of them and they had gazed at a band of elk through Mr. Penrose's field-glasses, but otherwise they had seen nothing that they could not have seen in Pennsylvania. Mr. Hicks' tales of the bears had aroused their interest to such a point that as soon as the camp site was selected they loaded their cameras and kodaks and set off immediately to get pictures while the light was favourable. It chanced to be one of the days, however, when the bears had no taste for garbage and although they waited until nearly supper-time not a bear put in its appearance. Mr. Penrose, in particular, was disappointed and vexed about it, and while it was unreasonable to hold Hicks in any way accountable for their absence, he could not refrain from saying disagreeably: "I think you have exaggerated this bear business, Hicks. I have no doubt that a bear or two may come down occasionally, I have the word of others for it, but as for droves of bears--swarms--I think you have overstated." Mr. Hicks cringed under the criticism, and admitted with a conciliatory whine in his voice that was rather sickening: "Perhaps I did enlarge a little, Mr. Penrose. Possibly I was over-anxious to be interesting. I apologize sincerely if I have misled and disappointed you. I hope, however, that you will yet have the opportunity of seeing at least one before we leave here." "No such luck," Mr. Penrose growled at him. "I haven't any idea that I'll see even the tracks. It's a good idea to cut in two everything you're told in this country and then divide it." Mr. Penrose was so hard on Hicks that Mr. Appel interposed quickly: "Do they ever come around at night, Cookie?" "So I have been informed," Mr. Hicks replied, conservatively. Pinkey was about to say that bears travelled more by night than in daytime, when Mr. Appel declared that he intended to sleep in the sleeping bag he had brought with him but which Mrs. Appel had not permitted him to use because she felt nervous alone, in her teepee. Mrs. Appel protested against Mr. Appel thus recklessly exposing himself to danger but Mr. Appel was mulish in the matter. "If, by chance, one _should_ come into camp I would have a good look at him. I may never have another such opportunity." "If you want to take your life in your hands, well and good." So, after supper, Mr. Appel unrolled his sleeping bag and spread it on a level spot not far from the supply wagon. Then he kissed Mrs. Appel, who