y thick at that point,
and tied them. My beast, however, lay down and rolled, saddle and all,
thus breaking my mirror--a most unlucky omen--and the bottle of olive
oil which we had brought along for mayonnaise dressing. Tish is fond of
mayonnaise, and, besides, considers olive oil most strengthening.
However, it was gone, and although Aggie comforted me by suggesting that
her boiled salad dressing is quite tasty, I was disconsolate.

It was by that time seven o'clock and almost dark. We held a conference.
Tish was of the opinion that we should first lead off their horses, if
possible.

"I intend," she said severely, "to make escape impossible. If they fire,
when taken by surprise, remember that they have only blank cartridges. I
must say," she added with a confession of unusual weakness, "that I am
glad the Indians escaped the other way. I would hardly know what to do
with Indians, even quite tame ones. While I know a few letters of the
deaf-and-dumb language, which I believe all tribes use in common, I fear
that in a moment of excitement I would forget what I know."

The next step, she asserted, was to secure their weapons.

"After all," she said, "the darkness is in our favor. I intend to fire
once, to show them that we are armed and dangerous. And if you two will
point the guns Bill made, they cannot possibly tell that they are not
real."

"But we will know it," Aggie quavered. Now that the quarry was in sight
she was more and more nervous, sneezing at short intervals in spite of
her menthol inhaler. "I am sorry, Tish, but I cannot feel the same about
that wooden revolver as I would about a real one. And even when I try to
forget that it is only wood the carving reminds me."

But Tish silenced her with a glance. She had strangely altered in the
last few minutes. All traces of fatigue had gone, and when she struck a
match and consulted her watch I saw in her face that high resolve, that
stern and matchless courage, which I so often have tried to emulate and
failed.

"Seven o'clock," she announced. "We will dine first. There is nothing
like food to restore failing spirits."

But we had nothing except our sandwiches, and Tish suggested snaring
some of the stupid squirrels with which the region abounded.

"Aggie needs broth," she said decidedly. "We have sandwiches, but Aggie
is frail and must be looked to."

Aggie was pathetically grateful, although sorry for the squirrels, which
were pretty and quite tame.