Tish, however, was determined to be cheerful, and asked him, as a safe subject, how he felt about the war.
"War?" he said. "That's so, there is a war. To tell the truth, I had forgotten about it. I've been thinking of other things."
We saw that it was going to be difficult to cheer him. Tish tried the weather, which brought us nowhere, as he merely grunted. But Aggie broached the subject of desperadoes, and he roused somewhat.
"There are plenty of shady characters in the park," he said shortly. "Wolves in sheep's clothing, that's what they are."
"Bill, our guide, says there may be a holdup at any time."
"Sure there is," he said calmly. "There's one going to be pulled off in the next day or two."
We sat petrified, and Aggie's eyes were starting out of her head.
"All the trimmings," he went on, staring at the fire. "Innocent and unsuspecting tourists, lunch, laughter, boiled coffee, and cold ham. Ambush. The whole business—followed by highwaymen in flannel shirts and revolvers. Dead tourist or two, desperate resistance—everything."
Aggie rose, pale as an aspen. "You—you are joking!" she cried.
"Do I look like it?" he demanded fiercely. "I tell you there is going to be the whole thing. At the end the lovely girl will escape on horseback and ride madly for aid. She will meet the sheriff and a posse, who are out for a picnic or some such damfool nonsense, and—"