We did not dare to look out, but we heard the young lady speaking, and as Aggie remarked later, no one would have thought, from the sweetness of her voice, that she was a creature of duplicity.

“But it is perfectly safe, dear Mrs. Ostermaier,” she said “And think, when you go home, of being able to say that you have climbed a mountain pass.”

“Pass!” sniffed Mrs. Ostermaier.  “Pass nothing!  I don’t call a wall a mile high a pass.”

“Think,” said the girl, “of being able to crow over those three old women who are always boasting of the things they do.  Probably you are right, and they never do them at all, but you—­there’s a moving-picture man waiting, remember, and you can show the picture before the Dorcas Society.  No one can ever doubt that you have done a courageous thing.  You’ll have the proof.”

“George,” said Mrs. Ostermaier in a small voice, “if anything happens, I have told you how I want my things divided.”

“Little devil!” whispered Aggie, referring to the girl.  “If that young man knows when he is well off, he’ll let her go.”

But beyond rebuking her for the epithet, Tish made no comment, and the party moved on.  We lost them for a time among the trees, but when they moved out above timber-line we were able to watch them, and we saw that Mrs. Ostermaier got off her horse, about halfway up, and climbed slowly on foot.  Tish, who had the glasses, said that she looked purple and angry, and that she distinctly saw the guide give her something to drink out of a bottle.  It might, however, have been vichy or some similar innocent beverage, and I believe in giving her the benefit of the doubt.

When at last they vanished over the edge of the pass, we led out our horses and prepared for what was to come.  Bill had not returned, and, indeed, we did not see him until the evening of the second day after that, when, worn but triumphant, we emerged from the trail at the Many Glaciers Hotel.  That, however, comes later in this narrative.

With everything prepared, Tish judged it best to have luncheon.  I made a few mayonnaise-and-lettuce sandwiches, beating the mayonnaise in the cool recesses of the cave, and we drank some iced tea, to which Aggie had thoughtfully added sliced lemon and a quantity of ginger ale.  Feeling much refreshed, we grasped our weapons and waited.

At half-past twelve we heard a loud shriek on the pass, far overhead, followed almost immediately by a fusillade of shots.  Then a silence, followed by more shots.  Then a solitary horseman rode over the edge of the pass and, spurring his horse, rode recklessly down the precipitous trail.  Aggie exclaimed that it was Mr. Ostermaier, basely deserting his wife in her apparent hour of need.  But Tish, who had the glasses, reported finally that it was the moving-picture man.

We were greatly surprised, as it had not occurred to us that this would be a part of the program.