More Tish | Page 6

made more tea. The road had begun to
rise toward the hills and the farmhouses were fewer. Ahead of us
loomed Thunder Cloud Mountain, with the Camel's Back to the right of
it. The road led up the valley between.
It was hardly a road at all, being a grass-grown wagontrack with not a
house in a mile. Aggie was glad of the grass, for she had taken off her
shoes by that time and was carrying them slung over her shoulder on
the end of her parasol. We were on the lower slope of the mountain
when we heard the green automobile.
It was coming rapidly from behind us. Aggie had just time to sit on a
bank--and her feet--before it came in sight. It was a long, low,
bright-green car and there were four men in it. They were bent forward,
looking ahead, except one man who sat so he could see behind him.
They came on us rather suddenly, and the man who was looking back

yelled to us as they passed, but what with noise and dust I couldn't
make out what he said. The next moment the machine flew ahead and
out of sight among the trees.
"What did he say?" I asked. Aggie, who has a tendency to hay-fever,
was sneezing in the dust.
"I don't know," returned Tish absently, staring after them. "Probably
asked us if we wanted a ride. Lizzie, those men had guns!"
"Fiddlesticks!" I said.
"Guns!" repeated Tish firmly.
"Well, what of it? Our donkey has a gun."
And as at that instant the sleeping-bags and provisions slid gently
round under Modestine's stomach, the green automobile and its
occupants passed out of our minds for a while.
By the time we had got the things on Modestine's back again we were
convinced he had been a mistake. He objected to standing still to be
reloaded, and even with Tish at his head and Aggie at his tail he kept
turning in a circle, and in fact finally kicked out at Aggie and stretched
her in the road. Then, too, his back was not flat like a horse's. It went
up to a sort of peak, and was about as handy to pack things on as the
ridge-pole of a roof.
For an hour or so more we plodded on. Tish, who is an enthusiast about
anything she does, kept pointing out wild flowers to us and talking
about the unfortunates back in town under roofs. But I kept thinking of
a broiled lamb chop with new potatoes, and my whole being revolted at
the thought of supper out of a can.
At twilight we found a sort of recess in the valley, level and not too
thickly wooded, and while Tish and I set up the stove and lighted a fire
Aggie spread out the sleeping-bags and got supper ready. We had
canned salmon and potato salad. We ate ravenously and then, taking off

our shoes and our walking suits, and getting into our flannel kimonos
and putting up our crimps--for we were determined not to lapse into
slovenly personal habits--we were ready for the night.
Tish said there were all sorts of animals on Thunder Cloud, so we built
a large fire to keep them away. Tish said this was the customary thing,
being done in all the adventure books she had read.
Aggie had to be helped into her sleeping-bag, her fur coat having been
rather skimp. But, once in, she said it was heavenly, and she was asleep
almost immediately. Tish and I followed, and I found I had placed my
bag over a stone. I was, however, too tired to get up.
I lay and looked at the stars twinkling above the treetops, and I felt
sorry for people who had nothing better to look at than a wall-papered
ceiling. Tish, next to me, was yawning.
"If there are snakes," she observed drowsily, "they are not poisonous--I
should think. And, anyhow, no snake could strike through these heavy
bags."
She went to sleep at once, but I lay there thinking of snakes for some
time. Also I remembered that we'd forgotten to leave our weapons
within reach, although, as far as that goes, I should not have slept a
wink had Aggie had her Fourth-of-July celebration near at hand. Then I
went to sleep. The last thing I remember was wishing we had brought a
dog. Even a box of cigars would have been some protection--we could
have lighted one and stuck it in the crotch of a tree, as if a man was
mounting guard over the camp. This idea, of course, was not original. It
was done first by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the detective.
It must have been toward dawn that I roused, with a feeling