"Mountains!" she said. "That ought to be good for Aggie's hay fever."
"I'd rather live with hay fever," Aggie put in sharply, "than cure it by falling over a precipice."
"You'll have to take a chance on that, of course," Charlie Sands said. "I'm not sure it will be safe, but I am sure it will be interesting."
Oh, he knew Tish well enough. Tell her a thing was dangerous, and no power could restrain her.
I do not mind saying that I was not keen about the thing. I had my fortune told years ago, and the palmist said that if a certain line had had a bend in it I should have been hanged. But since it did not, to be careful of high places.
"It's a sporting chance," said Charlie Sands, although I was prodding him under the table. "With some good horses and a bag of this—er—concentrated food, you would have the time of your young lives."
This was figurative. We are all of us round fifty.
"The—the Bran-Nut," he said, "would serve for both food and ammunition. I can see you riding along, now and then dropping a piece of it on the head of some unlucky mountain goat, and watching it topple over into eternity. I can see—"
"Riding!" said Aggie. "Then I'm not going. I have never been on a horse and I never intend to be."
"Don't be a fool," Tish snapped. "If you've never been on a horse, it's time and to spare you got on one."