HIPPY PAYS THE PIPER

“Why didn’t you get me out last night?” demanded the fat boy after his uncle had paid the fine and the party were on their way back to camp.

“I will talk with you later, young man,” answered Hippy briefly. “Elfreda, you do know how to handle a witness. Why, you could have gotten Stacy out had he not been questioned.”

Elfreda shook her head, and she and Tom walked on ahead to talk, while Lieutenant Wingate engaged his nephew in earnest conversation. When they arrived at the camp a warm welcome awaited Stacy Brown.

“Meet me with food,” shouted Chunky.

“Come, girls! Let’s kill the fatted calf in celebration of the prodigal’s return,” cried Grace.

“No, no!” protested Emma Dean with mock seriousness. “If you must sacrifice someone why not take Jim Badger? I don’t believe that either we or the world would miss him. Kill the fatted calf? Never!” finished Emma amid the laughter of her companions.

“That’s right. Abuse me all you wish, but give me something to eat. I haven’t had a thing to eat except a package of gum, since yesterday noon,” complained Stacy.

“Your breakfast is already on the fire,” answered Grace. A few moments later Stacy was eating ravenously, rolling his eyes and listening to the story of the hearing, as related by Tom Gray. In the meantime Grace and Elfreda were talking together in low tones.

“I believe, since the hearing, that your suspicions are right,” declared Miss Briggs. “I didn’t think so before the hearing, but I do now.”

“Come here, you folks,” called Hippy. “We are about to hold a family council. The question is, what would you advise that we do with Stacy? If he continues to mix things up the Overland Riders will, sooner or later, be involved in serious difficulties.”

“I should say that a warning now, to be followed by sending him home if he causes any further worry for us, would be the wise course,” spoke up Tom.

“No, no,” protested Emma. “Think what a lot of entertainment we should miss. We intellectual persons need a foil—some brainless person to furnish light entertainment for us. My suggestion is that we appoint a guardian for Stacy—a guardian who will be responsible for him and whom he must obey.”

“You win,” cried Hippy amid laughter.

“I move that we appoint Emma Dean guardian ad lib., with full power to control all his activities,” said J. Elfreda in her most severe legal tone.

“Ad who?” frowned Stacy.

“Ad libitum, a Latin term, meaning ‘at pleasure’” answered Elfreda.

“I thank you, but fear that the task is too great,” murmured Emma.

“You can’t refuse. Remember, we agreed long ago that the majority should rule in the Overland outfit. Are we all in favor of Emma Dean as Stacy Brown’s guardian?” cried Grace.

“Yes!” shouted the Overland Riders.

“We promise to see to it that your ward ever honors and obeys,” added Elfreda.

“I won’t do it,” retorted Stacy belligerently.

“I accept,” announced Emma, after slight hesitation. “I will exercise my new authority right now. Stacy, you look a fright. Go wash your face and comb your hair instantly.”

“I won’t do it!” challenged the fat boy.

“Run along like a good little boy,” urged Emma. “Here’s a nice piece of candy for you for being good,” persisted the girl mercilessly, the freckles on her frivolous little nose standing out more prominently than ever.

“Young man, did you hear what your guardian said?” demanded Hippy.

“I heard, but I won’t do it,” retorted Stacy stubbornly, whereupon Hippy led him by one ear to a pail of water, and stood by until his nephew had thoroughly washed his face and hands.

The Overlanders were convulsed with laughter, and Stacy’s face was red with humiliation.

“It’s too bad to treat him so,” declared Nora laughingly.

“No. It is what he needs,” answered Elfreda. “Stacy is getting his punishment, and, if I know his guardian, there is still more coming to him. Let’s go! I want to ride.”

It was a quiet and thoroughly subdued Stacy who accompanied them on their ride that day, though Emma Dean’s motherly solicitude for him, even to the extreme of cutting up his bacon at luncheon, filled his soul with resentment, and the hearts of the others with joy. Jim Badger finally reminded them that it was time to start back to camp.

Miss Briggs suggested that it was also time they moved to another camping place, and asked the guide where he would advise making a new camp. He said he would let them know that night or on the following morning.

“Why the delay?” interjected Grace.

“Because I want to make inquiries about trails and the like. I don’t know everything about this Park—nobody does,” he added, as they mounted and started away. The Overlanders acquiesced, content to let the guide make the arrangements to suit himself.

Late in the day they approached the Springs Hotel at a brisk gallop and Hippy, now in great good humor, suggested that they show the guests of the hotel how the Overlanders could ride.

“Everyone do her prettiest,” he called.

For the first time that day Stacy Brown, scenting an opportunity to distinguish himself, began to take a lively interest in their activities.

“Little boy, be careful that you don’t fall off,” warned Emma as they neared the hotel, the Riders presenting a snappy appearance, each one rigidly sitting his saddle, right arm hanging at the side, left hand lightly resting on the reins.

The hotel veranda was crowded with tourists, as the dinner hour was approaching. Some of the guests gathered there already knew who the Overlanders were, and a burst of hand clapping greeted their arrival.

Stacy Brown, laboring under his not infrequent delusion that he was the whole show, rose in his stirrups, hat in hand, the bridle-rein trailing on the pony’s neck, as he swept into the drive that led past the veranda. When directly opposite it Stacy’s mount stumbled in a rut. At that moment, the fat boy, who was standing in his stirrups, suddenly looked startled and emitted a howl, and as the pony’s nose struck the dust, the boy left his saddle with a neat, curving dive. He landed on his shoulders and flopped over on his back, accompanied by cries of alarm and laughter from the guests.

Three men from the veranda ran to him.

“Are you hurt?” questioned one.

The boy eyed his questioner out of the corner of one eye, and getting up with an effort began brushing the dust from his clothing.

“Certainly not. Falling off a horse is fine exercise before meals. It gives one an appetite. You should try it yourself,” returned Stacy.

“I reckon that boy gave you what you deserve,” said one of the man’s companions laughingly.

The Overland Riders, in the meantime, trotted their horses around behind the hotel where they gave way to their merriment, and there they were joined by Stacy a few minutes later. His face was red, his nose was skinned, and he was complaining bitterly because his companions had deserted him.

“Stacy Brown, you’re a sight. Go into the hotel this moment and wash your face,” directed Emma in her severest tone.

“I’m going to, but not because you say so. I’m going to wash because I need it.”

“That’s a dear good boy,” approved Emma. “For that I shall buy you an ice cream cone.”

“Thanks,” grinned Stacy, hitching his horse.

“Suppose we all have dinner at the hotel,” suggested Grace, which suggestion was eagerly welcomed. “Jim, you go on to camp and take care of the horses. We will walk back after dinner.”

“Before going farther, I wish to say that Stacy must apologize to the gentleman to whom he made the rude remark,” reminded Emma.

To this the fat boy made no reply, but after the Overlanders had brushed the dirt from their clothes and started for the front of the hotel, Emma stepped up beside him and gently tugged at his sleeve. “There sits the gentleman now. Go and apologize to him,” she directed.

Stacy nodded, and, reaching the veranda, he walked up to the man to whom he had made the discourteous remark.

“I am sorry, sir, that I answered you discourteously when you came out to see if I was hurt,” said Stacy humbly.

“Eh?”

Chunky repeated his apology.

“Oh! You are the young man who came a cropper,” answered the gentleman, laughing good-naturedly.

“No, sir. I am the rider that took a high dive from my horse. I—I didn’t mean to be discourteous. I apologize.”

“Don’t speak of it, young man,” answered the gentleman cordially.

“Thank you, I won’t. Just the same, I think that a dive like that before each meal might reduce your flesh and do you a lot of good,” added the fat boy, eyeing the rather corpulent gentleman critically.

The Overland Riders groaned, for Stacy had undone whatever good he might have accomplished. Instead of being disturbed at Stacy’s remark, however, the gentleman introduced himself, saying that he was Colonel Scott, President of the C. V. & A. Railroad. Stacy then introduced him to “Grace Harlowe Gray’s Overland Riders.”

“Eh? Grace Harlowe Gray?” repeated the colonel reflectively. “Where have I heard that name? I seem to know it well, and yet—” He regarded the flushed face of Grace with inquiring gaze. “No, there is nothing familiar to me in that face, but somehow the name revives old memories. Do I know you?”

Grace laughed.

“I believe you have never seen me before, sir.”

“But the name is so familiar,” persisted the colonel.

“I am not at all amazed at that, sir, for under that name I once sent you a message that might have been, and probably was, construed as impudent,” she said, flushing still more deeply.

“Eh?” Colonel Scott looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. I—”

“You were Master of Transportation of the Northern Railroad in France, were you not, sir?” suggested Grace demurely.

“Yes. But—”

“And I sent you—”

“I have it! I have it!” cried the colonel springing up and grasping both of Grace Harlowe’s hands in his. “Know you? I should say I do, and now that I am face to face with you, young woman, you are going to get a grilling that I have had in store for you ever since near the close of the World War.”