"Now I know something is wrong," said Mrs. Parker. "Where is the Captain? What made you laugh that way? Have the savages broken out?"
Jennie met Parker's eyes fairly popping from his head, and went off into another shout. At last she paused and said, breathlessly: "Oh, you are funny! Come into the house. We've been entertaining a lynching party—all the Indians are in the hills and the sheriff's in the office throttling the agent."
While the Parkers consumed their crusts of bread and scraps of cold meat, Jennie told them what had happened.
Parker rose to the occasion. "We must get out o' here—every one of us! We should never have come in here. Your brother is to blame; he deceived us."
"He did not!" replied Jennie. "You shall not hold him responsible!"
"He knew the situation was critical," Parker hotly retorted. "He knew an outbreak was likely. It was criminal on his part."
"Jerome Parker, you are a donkey," remarked Elsie, calmly. "Nothing has really happened. If you're so nervous, go home. You can't sculp an Indian, anyway—grasshoppers and sheep are in your line." She had reverted to the plain talk of the studios. "Your nervousness amused us for a while, but it bores us now. Please shut up and run away if you are afraid."
"You're not very nice," said Mrs. Parker, severely.
"I don't think it's very manly of your husband when he begins to blame Captain Curtis for an invasion of cowboys."
"You admitted you were scared," pursued Parker.