e place for
the noon-day luncheon in order that everything should be in readiness
upon their arrival, but to the others Wallie had suggested that they
ride and drive more slowly to save the horses.

In spite of Wallie's request, however, Mr. Stott, seeing the cook
getting ahead, started off at a gallop to overtake him. In no uncertain
voice Wallie called to him.

"You will oblige me if you will ride more slowly," Wallie said, speaking
very distinctly when Mr. Stott came back to ask what was wanted.

"Why, what's the matter?"

His feigned innocence added to Wallie's anger.

"I don't want that horse ruined."

"I am paying for him," Stott returned, insolently.

"I still own him, and it's my privilege to say how he shall be ridden."

Stott dropped back suddenly but Wallie foresaw trouble with him before
the trip was finished, though he meant to hold his temper as long as
possible.

The reprimand had a beneficial effect upon the other equestrians, who
had contemplated dashing after Mr. Stott, but now concluded to jog along
at a reasonable gait, working off their superfluous energy in asking
questions. Did eagles really carry off children? And was the earth under
the Yellowstone Park hollow?

In the surrey "Red" McGonnigle was putting forth his best efforts to
entertain Aunt Lizzie and Miss Mercy, which he considered as much a part
of his duties as driving.

A portion of the road was through a canon, cut from the solid rock in
places, with narrow turnouts, and a precipitous descent of hundreds of
feet to a sinister-looking green river roaring in the bottom.

"Now, here," said Mr. McGonnigle, as they entered it, lolling back in
the seat and crossing his legs in leisurely fashion, "is where there's
been all kinds of accee-dents."

He pointed with the stub of a buggy-whip:

"About there is where four horses on a coal-wagon run away and went
over. Two was killed and one was crippled so they had to shoot it."

"Oh, how dread-ful!" Aunt Lizzie exclaimed, nervously.

Miss Mercy's contralto voice boomed at him:

"What happened to the driver?"

"His bones was broke in a couple of dozen places, but they picked him
up, and sence, he has growed together."

Miss Mercy snickered.

"You see that p'int ahead of us? Onct a feller ridin' a bronc backed off
there. They rolled two hundred feet together. Wonder it didn't kill
'em."

Aunt Lizzie was twisting her fingers and whispering:

"Oh, how dread-ful!"

"Jest ar