If Glover's aim in disappearing had been to escape the embarrassment of
Mrs. Whitney's attentions the effort was successful only in part.
Lanning and Harrison left in the morning in charge of Bill Dancing to
join the hunting party in the Park, and Mr. Brock finding himself
within a few hours' ride of Medicine Bend decided to run down. Late in
the afternoon the Pittsburg train drew up at the Wickiup.
Gertrude and her sister left their car together to walk in the sunshine
that flooded the platform, for the sun was still a little above the
mountains. In front of the eating-house a fawn-colored collie racing
across the lawn attracted Gertrude, and with her sister she started up
the walk to make friends with him. In one of his rushes he darted up
the eating-house steps and ran around to the west porch, the two young
ladies leisurely following. As they turned the corner they saw their
runaway crouching before a man who, with one foot on the low railing,
stood leaning against a pillar. The collie was waiting for a lump of
sugar, and his master had just taken one from the pocket of his sack
coat when the young ladies recognized him.
"Really, Mr. Glover, your tastes are domestic," declared Marie; "you
make excellent taffy--now I find you feeding a collie." She pointed to
the lump of sugar. "And how is your hand?"
"I can't get over seeing you here," said Glover, collecting himself by
degrees. "When did you come? Take these chairs, won't you?"
"You, I believe, are responsible for the early resumption of traffic
through the cañon," answered Marie. "Besides, nothing in our
wanderings need ever cause surprise. Anyone unfortunate enough to be
attached to a directors' party will end in a feeble-minded institution."
Gertrude was talking to the collie. "Isn't he beautiful, Marie?" she
exclaimed. "Come here, you dear fellow. I fell in love with him the
minute I saw him--to whom does he belong, Mr. Glover? Come here."
"How is your hand?" asked Marie.
"Do give Mr. Glover a chance," interposed Gertrude. "Tell me about
this dog, Mr. Glover."
"He is the best dog in the world, Miss Brock. Mr. Bucks gave him to me
when I first came to the mountains--we were puppies together----"
"And how about your hand?" smiled Marie.
"What is his name?" asked Gertrude.
"It wasn't a hand, it was a wrist, and it is much better, thank
you--his name is Stumah."
"Stumah? How odd. Come here, Stumah. Does he mind?"
"He doesn't mind me, but no one minds me, so I forgive him that."
"Aunt Jane doesn't think you mind very well," said Marie. "Clem had a
steak twice as large as usual prepared for the supper you ran away
from."
"It is always my misfortune to miss good things."