“He took the horses somewhere.”
“Good. He can take these, too, when he gets back. That’ll please him a whole lot! Why didn’t he wait till he had the whole bunch?”
Joe looked quickly at Mills’ face, for he had never seen the Ranger cross before.
Mills managed a grin, when he saw the look. “Yes, I got a grouch,” he said, in a low tone. “It’s that Jones woman. You’d think she wanted a twin-six limousine to bring her over Piegan Pass! What’ll you take to throw her in the lake?”
“Wait for Val. He’ll do it for nothing,” Joe laughed. “She’ll feel better soon. I’m goin’ to give her two forks.”
Joe went back to his preparations for supper, keeping the fire roaring under his stew to hasten the cooking, and mixing up a batter of flour, condensed milk, one of his precious eggs, and some baking powder, for cakes. The Ranger and Dick, the other guide, were busy with the tents, one for the three men, and two smaller ones for the four women. The women’s tents had little folding cot beds, but the men’s did not, and Mills, with a wink at Joe, gave Bob and the two congressmen axes, and told them to go cut themselves boughs to sleep on, from a big evergreen which had blown over. Meanwhile, the two girls came over to Joe’s fire, and watched him work.
They sniffed at the kettle of stew.
“Are we going to have meat, really, truly meat, for dinner, Cookie?” asked Miss Jones.
“Alice, if you call him Cookie, he’ll poison you, won’t you—Joe?” said Miss Elkins.
Joe looked up and met her twinkling eyes. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll put a Charlie Chaplin sandwich in it.”