“Tally had to use the large flash-light all the way down-trail from the bridge to this Lodge, and he says it was some jaunt! The two outlaws received no pity from him. Whenever they cried and begged to be allowed to rest and have some food from the packs he pronounced stern judgment upon them, and said:
“‘You no care what trouble you mek my frens, who mebbe go hungry when you steal packs, so now you feel same way! Dat goot for you—it mek you solly for my frens!” The scouts laughed at Mr. Gilroy’s mimicry of the Guide.
“Well, girls, you know the rest of the tale: how Tally came across me as I was ambling in at the gate of this Lodge, and how he met with a friend who took charge of the horses and men.”
“Oh, Gilly! Is that all there is to the ending?” demanded Hester, impatiently.
“Didn’t Tally get mixed up in a real honest-to-goodness western fight that needs a sheriff?” asked Julie, scornfully.
“Why, the whole thing is flat, if Tally rode in as tame as all that, Gilly!” added Joan.
“Well, I’m glad, for one, that the dear little burros and Tally weren’t scorched by that awful fire!” sighed Betty.
Every one laughed, as they usually did, when Betty voiced an opinion, and Julie added in disdain: “Pshaw! sounds like a Tenderfoot experience in some camp-meeting resort instead of a wild west frontier adventure!”
“Maybe you-all will be pleased to hear the grand finalé of Tally’s home-coming,” suggested Mr. Burt, quizzically.
“You mean the four suppers he managed to tuck away and then say ‘goot job finish,’” laughed Julie, enjoying that part of the narrative.