But the Major was not cross when they met him in
Uncle John's sitting
room. He beamed upon the three girls most genially,
for he liked
Myrtle and fully approved all that was being done
for her.
"Of course it's like Patsy," he had said to Mr.
Merrick that morning.
"She couldn't help being a sweet ministering angel
if she tried; and
Beth is growing more and more like her. It will do
those girls good,
John, to have some human being to coddle and care
for. If Patsy could
have a fault, it would be wasting so much affection
on that bunch o'
rags Mumbles, who audaciously chewed up one of my
pet slippers while I
was at dinner last evening. No dog is a fit thing to
occupy a girl's
time, and this imp o' mischief Mumbles must take a
back seat from now
on."
Uncle John laughed, for he knew his brother-in-law
had never conquered
his antipathy for poor Mumbles, and realized why.
"Take care that you do not get jealous of Myrtle,"
he replied.
"You're a selfish old beast, and don't wish Patsy to
love anyone but
yourself."
"And why should she?" was the inquiry. "Any dutiful
daughter ought to
be satisfied with loving such a father as I am."
"And in that," remarked Uncle John, whimsically,
"you remind me of
Wampus. You should strut around and say: 'Behold me!
I am Patsy's
father!'"
The Major was full of news at luncheon time.
"What do you think, my dears?" he said, addressing
the girls. "Your
crazy uncle must have had another snooze, unbeknown
to us, for he's
got the wildest idea into his head that human
brains--or lack of
them--ever conceived."
"You are not very respectful, sir," retorted Mr.
Merrick stiffly,
as he ate his salad. "But we must not expect too
much of a disabled
soldier--and an Irishman to boot--who has not been
accustomed to good
society."
Major Doyle looked at his brother-in-law with an
approving smile.
"Very well put, John," he said. "You're improving in
repartee.
Presently you'll add that I'm unlettered and
uncivilized, and no fit
associate for a person who has made an egregious
fortune out of tin
cans in the wilds of Oregon."
"But what's the news?" asked Patsy impatiently.
"What new idea has
Uncle John conceived?"
"First," replied the Major, "he has bought an
automobile as big as a
baggage car. Next he has engaged a chauffeur who is
a wild Canadian
Indian with a trace of erratic French blood in his
veins--a
combination liable to result in anything. Mr. Wampus,
the half-breed
calls himself, and from the looks of him he's
murdered many a one in
his day."
"Oh, Major!"
"Show me an automobile driver that hasn't. Myrtle
knows. It's no trick
to knock over a peaceful pedestrian or so, to say
nothing of chickens,
cats and dogs mangled by the roadside. I confidently
expect he'll make
a pancake of dear little Mumbles before he's five
miles on the road.
Eh, Patsy?"
"Be sensible, Daddy."
"It's my strong point. If I'm any judge of character
this Wampus is a
speed fiend."
"He is recommended as a very careful driver," said
Mr. Merrick; "and
moreover he has signed a contract to obey my
orders."
"Very good," said Beth. "I'm not afraid of Mr.
Wampus. What next,
Major?"
"Next," continued Patsy's father, with a solemn wink
at the row of
curious faces, "your inventive relative has ordered
the automobile
rebuilt, thinking he's wiser than the makers. He's
having a furnace
put in it, for one thing--it's a limousine, you
know, and all enclosed
in glass. Also it's as big as a barn, as I said."
"You said a freight car," observed Patsy.
"True. A small barn or a big freight car. The seats
are to be made
convertible into sleeping berths, so if we get
caught out overnight we
have all the comforts of a hotel except the bell
boys."
"I'll be the bell boy," promised Patsy.
"Also we're to take a portable kitchen along, like
they use in the
army, with a gasoline stove all complete. The thing
fits under the
back seat, I believe."
"All this," said Beth, "strikes me as being very
sensible and a credit
to Uncle John's genius. I'm a good cook, as you
know, and the kitchen
outfit appeals to me. But how about provisions?"
"Provisions are being provided," replied her uncle,
genially
smiling at her praise. However scornfully the Major
might view his
preparations he was himself mightily proud of them.
"Tinned stuff, I presume," remarked his
brother-in-law. "John Merrick
has a weakness for tin cans, having got his money
out of them."
"You're wrong," protested Uncle John. "I merely made
my money from the
tin the cans were made of. But we won't get money
out of these cans
when they're opened; it will be something better,
such as sardines and
hominy, preserved cream and caviar, beans and boned
chicken."
"Sounds fine!" cried Patsy with enthusiasm. "But how
can you arrange
to carry so much, Uncle?"
"The limousine body is pretty big, as the Major
says, and high enough
to allow me to put in a false bottom. In the space
beneath it I shall
stow all the bedding, the eatables and kitchen
utensils, and a small
tent. Then we shall be prepared for whatever
happens."
"I doubt it," objected the Major. "There's gasoline
to be reckoned
with. It's well enough to feed ourselves, but what
if we ran short of
the precious feed for the engines?"
"The two tanks will hold sixty gallons. That ought
to carry us any
reasonable distance," replied Mr. Merrick.
"You see, Daddy, our Uncle John is an experienced
traveler, while you
are not," declared Patsy. "In all our journeys
together I've found him
full of resources and very farsighted. This trip
doesn't worry me at
all."
"Nor me," added Beth. "We are sure to have a
delightful time under
Uncle's auspices."
"Wampus," said Uncle John, "is so pleased with my
preparations that he
wants us to start in the car from here."
"Can you put it on runners, like a sledge?" asked
the Major. "That's
the only way it could travel through this snow. Or
perhaps you'll hire
a snowplow to go ahead of it."
"No; I told Wampus it was impracticable," was the
reply. "We shall
load our machine on a flat car and ship it to
Albuquerque, which is in
New Mexico and almost directly south of Denver. We
shall then be over
the worst grades of the Rocky Mountains."
"And which way do we go then?" inquired Beth.
"I have not yet decided. We can go still farther
south, into Texas,
or make our way down into Phoenix and across the
prairies to Imperial
Valley, or follow the Santa Fe route by way of the
Grand Canyon."
"Oh, let's go that way!" exclaimed Patsy.
"And freeze to death?" asked the Major. "It's the
northernmost route."
"When we get to Albuquerque we will be below the
line of frosts and
snow," explained Mr. Merrick. "The climate is genial
all through that
section during winter. Haggerty says--"
"I guessed it!" groaned the Major. "If Haggerty
recommends this trip
we'll surely be in trouble."
"Aside from Haggerty, Wampus knows that country
thoroughly," said
Uncle John stoutly.
"Tell me: did Haggerty recommend Wampus?"
"No."
"Then there's hopes of the fellow. As you say, John,
there is no need
to decide until we get to Albuquerque. When do we
make the start?"
"Day after to-morrow. The car will be shipped
to-morrow night, but our
party will follow by daylight, so as to see Colorado
Springs, Pike's
Peak and Pueblo as we pass by them."
