Tish said later that the moment his teeth were buried in the ham she felt safe. I can still see the majestic movement with which she walked out of the tent and waved her arms.
"Now, scat with you!" she said firmly. "Scat!"
He "scatted." Snarling through his nose, for fear of dropping the ham, he turned and fled up the mountainside. In the open space Tish stood the conqueror. She yawned and glanced about.
"Going to be a nice night, after all," she said. "Now, Bill, bring me that revolver, and if I catch you meddling with it again I'll put that pair of fur rugs you are so proud of in the fire."
Bill, who was ignorant of the ham, emerged sheepishly into the open. "Where the—where the dickens did you hit him, Miss Tish?" he asked.
"In the stomach," Tish replied tartly, and taking her revolver went back to the tent.
All the next day Tish was quiet. She rode ahead, hardly noticing the scenery, with her head dropped on her chest. At luncheon she took a sardine sandwich and withdrew to a tree, underneath which she sat, a lonely and brooding figure.
When luncheon was over and Aggie and I were washing the dishes and hanging out the dish towels to dry on a bush, Tish approached Bill, who was pouring water on the fire to extinguish it.
"Bill," she stated, "you came to us under false pretenses. You swear, for one thing."
"Only under excitement, Miss Tish," he said. "And as far as that goes, Miss Aggie herself said—"