UNBIDDEN GUESTS IN CAMP

“What do you think of Badger?” asked Grace as she and Elfreda were preparing for bed.

“He is an odd fellow, but I reckon all guides are more or less peculiar. So are we for that matter.”

Grace admitted the truth of the statement.

“Will you folks please keep quiet in there? Don’t you think I want to go to sleep?” demanded Stacy from an adjoining tent.

“It will take more than talking to cause you to lose sleep,” piped the voice of Emma Dean.

“Don’t interrupt, young man. We are having a private conversation,” begged Miss Briggs laughingly. However, she and Grace finished their talk in lower tones, and soon after that quiet settled over the camp, the guide being curled up in his blankets by the fire, long since sound asleep.

It was shortly after midnight that Grace, awakened by the snorting and stamping of the ponies, sat up to listen. She knew that something had disturbed them, but before she could get up to investigate, the camp was startled by a wild yell from Stacy Brown, who occupied a little shelter tent by himself.

“Yeow—wow! They’re after me!” howled Stacy, rushing from his tent in a high state of excitement. By this time the Overlanders were running towards him, Jim Badger in the lead.

“They’re after me—right after me!” explained the fat boy almost incoherently.

The out-turning Overlanders came to a sudden halt. Three big, shadowy figures were discovered ambling away from the camp.

“Bears!” screamed Emma Dean.

“Grizzlies,” supplemented the guide.

“Oh, wow!” yelled Chunky, vanishing into his tent. “What’s the shortest route to the railroad station?”

“Keep quiet. Don’t stir them up,” warned Jim Badger. “They are after grub, that’s all.”

“It looks as though we were the ones to get excited, not the bears,” exclaimed Miss Briggs. “Do I understand you to mean that we are the food they are after?”

At this juncture, Stacy Brown was seen to spring from his tent, rifle in hand.

“Stop that!” thundered Hippy.

“Put down that gun!” commanded Tom Gray sternly.

Too late! Badly frightened, Stacy threw the gun to his shoulder; and fired after the barest pretense at aiming. Chunky fully intended to empty the magazine at the retreating bears, but before he could fire a second time Lieutenant Wingate struck up his arm, sending the muzzle of the rifle pointing skyward, just as the fat boy pulled the trigger.

“Don’t be a fool! What are you trying to do?” demanded Hippy.

“I shot one, I did,” cried Stacy exultingly as Hippy took the rifle from him.

“No you didn’t,” retorted the guide. “And a mighty lucky thing for you that you didn’t. It’s against the Park rules.”

“Is it against the law to stop wild animals from eating you?” demanded the fat boy indignantly.

“I reckon it ain’t.”

“It’s a poor rule that doesn’t work both ways. If the bears have a right to try to eat me, I surely have a right to see to it that they don’t. Such fool laws! You make me weary.”

The bears were now nowhere to be seen. At the first shot, which, fortunately, had gone wide of the mark, they had ambled away into the darkness. The guide seemed ill at ease.

“Just the same you shouldn’t have done that, young feller,” he said with a shake of the head. “It may git us into a lot of trouble.”

“Huh! I came near getting into trouble as it was. Do you know, one of those beasts was coming right into my tent?”

“Bears always hang around a camp at night lookin’ for an easy livin’. They never do no harm to anybody if they’re let alone. When the she-bears have cubs with them, though, they’re mighty touchy. I hope nobody heard that shot.”

“Why?” demanded Miss Briggs.

“If anybody did we’ll hear from it.”

“They had better not bother me,” scoffed Stacy. “I know my business, and if they say anything to me I’ll tell them a thing or two.”

At Grace’s suggestion the party returned to their beds. Badger said the bears had had too big a scare to permit them to come back that night, so the Overlanders turned in to finish their night’s rest.

“If you folks was over to the Mammoth Springs Hotel now, you’d find the bears at the dump there finishin’ their meal,” said the guide as they bade him good-night.

“I hope to goodness that the beasts stay there,” muttered Emma, who was still considerably frightened.

The party had little more than composed themselves between their blankets than the hoof beats of rapidly moving horses were heard, and once more the Overland Riders sat up in their beds listening.

“Hulloa the camp!” shouted a voice as two horses halted close by.

“What do you want?” demanded Stacy, peering from his tent; the others of the party who had heard the hail and the fat boy’s answer decided to lie still and await developments.

“Hear anybody shooting ’round here?” asked one of the horsemen.

“Hear anybody shooting?” repeated Stacy. “How could I hear anybody shooting when I was in bed and asleep?”

“That wasn’t what I asked you, young fellow.”

“That wasn’t what I answered you, either,” came back Stacy promptly.

“Who is the boss of this party?”

“I am,” answered Chunky pompously.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Brown. Who are you?”

“I’m White of—”

“Ho-ho,” laughed Stacy. “Lucky we aren’t Black and Blue, isn’t it?”

“We’re Park guards from the Thirteenth Cavalry. We think shots were fired from this camp and we want to know why.” The trooper got down, handing his bridle rein to his companion. “I want to see the rest of this outfit.” At this juncture Tom and Hippy stepped out and bade the guards a courteous good-evening, while the girls of the party were dressing.

“Who are you?” demanded the trooper, turning sharply on the two men.

Hippy introduced himself and Tom, and told the guard that the outfit was the Overland Riders starting in to ride the Yellowstone Park.

“What do you know about the shots we heard?”

“Two shots were fired here, sir, a short time ago. I don’t know whether or not they were the ones you heard.”

“It was a mistake,” spoke up Tom Gray. “The one who fired the shots was laboring under great excitement at the time and did not realize that he was doing wrong.”

“Who fired them?”

No one answered, and the question was repeated.

“I do not know that we are obliged to answer that question,” replied Lieutenant Wingate after a slight hesitation. “I will take the responsibility, whatever it may be.”

“No, he won’t,” announced Stacy Brown, stepping forward. “He didn’t do the shooting. I did it.”

The guard looked perplexed.

“Somebody around these parts is lying,” he said.

Hippy flushed.

“I tell you I did it,” insisted Stacy.

“Be quiet, Stacy. I am speaking with the guard,” rebuked Hippy.

“I won’t. I guess I’ve got a right to talk if I want to. I’ll tell you what happened, Mr. Guard. I woke up and found a big bear coming into my tent, and I grabbed up my gun and shot at him. That’s all there was to it.”

“Did you hit him?” demanded the guard.

“I reckon I did. I never miss what I shoot at,” answered the fat boy boastfully.

The Overlanders groaned under their breaths. Badger, who had got up unnoticed, was standing in the background listening to the conversation. “Have you a guide?” asked the trooper.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t he prevent the shooting?”

“The guide was asleep,” explained Hippy. “No harm was done, as this young man plainly did not hit either of the animals. We are very sorry that a park regulation has been violated by one of our party, and assure you that it will not occur again.”

“I reckon we’ll stay here to-night,” announced the guard.

“We shall be glad to have you,” spoke up Tom. “Mr. Badger, take care of these men’s horses. You may have my tent, gentlemen. I have my sleeping bag.”

“I reckon you don’t have to disturb yourselves. We’ll bunk on the ground. First, we want to see the rest of your party.”

“They are all women,” answered Hippy. “I don’t know whether you can see them or not.”

At this juncture the girls stepped out, each fully dressed, and the troopers saluted, which salutes were returned snappily by the Overland girls, rather to the amazement of the two Park guards. The troopers had given Badger a keen look, and that was all, but instead of permitting him to care for their mounts, they led them over and tethered them with the Overland ponies. When they returned, the Overlanders were turning in. One trooper lay down just inside the tent occupied by Tom and Hippy, the other rolling up in his blanket at the entrance to Stacy Brown’s shelter tent. Stacy eyed the man sourly. In his heart he hoped that the grizzlies would come back and give the fellow a scare. Stacy did not take the situation very seriously.

“Maybe you would like my bed,” suggested the fat boy.

“This will do, thanks.”

“Why do you hang around me?”

“To see that you don’t get into any more mix-ups,” was the brief reply.

“You better look out for yourself, Mr. Man. I know how to take care of myself. I’m no tenderfoot.”

The trooper was snoring, and Stacy sat eyeing the fellow disgustedly.

“I wouldn’t be such a sleepyhead for anything. He went to sleep while I was talking to him. I wish someone would talk me to sleep every night,” muttered the fat boy drowsily, then began to snore. Stacy had talked himself to sleep.

Tom Gray and Lieutenant Wingate thought they knew why the troopers were remaining in the camp. Grace and Elfreda, in a whispered conversation, talked the matter over and came to what proved to be the right conclusion. The Park guards had shown themselves to be good fellows, and thawed out considerably before the smiles of the girls. Badger was the sour one of the party. He did not like the turn affairs had taken.

All hands had a good sleep for the rest of the night, and when the Overland Riders awakened they found the two troopers up and brushing up their own equipment. They ate breakfast with their hosts and then sat about until after eight o’clock, but as soon as the breakfast had been cleared away Trooper White rose.

“You will all get your horses and come with me,” he announced sharply.

“Where to?” questioned Tom Gray.

“To the Superintendent of the reservation.”

“Yes, thank you. We wish to see him,” nodded Tom.

“I reckon he will want to see you, too,” grinned White.

“Just what do you mean by that, Buddy?” demanded Hippy.

“I mean that you are all under arrest,” replied the trooper sternly.

“Un—under arrest!” gasped Emma Dean.

“Pinched!” groaned Stacy Brown. “This is too much.”