"Three people--sometimes. Half the pleasure of this forenoon has been slain by the knowledge that we'll have to fight for our dinners with the mob at that wretched little _table d'hôte_ at Graymont." "Can't we escape it?" "Not without going hungry." "I think Mr. and Mrs. Burton are going to escape it." "What makes you think that?" "This," said Gertrude, pointing to a well-filled lunch-basket under the seat. "Praised be Allah!" Brockway exclaimed, fervently. "You can trust Burton to look out for the small personal comforts. And he never so much as hinted at this when I was grumbling about the dinner awhile ago. I've a mind to punish him." "How?" "By confiscating the basket. We could run away by ourselves and have a quiet little picnic dinner while they wrestle with the mob." But Gertrude demurred. "That would be too callously villanous," she objected. "Can't we divide with them?" "And go away by ourselves with the spoils?" "Yes, if you like." "I do like. I know a place, and the way to get there. Are you good for a climb?" Brockway possessed himself of the basket, spread a newspaper on the opposite seat, and began to make a very fair and equitable division of the eatables. "I'm good for anything," she said; then she pulled off her gloves and helped him divide the luncheon. When the train stopped at Graymont, Burton went forward to get the luncheon. The coach was empty when he reached it, and the looted basket bore witness to the designs of the two young people. The general agent wagged his head dubiously, and when he had seen the last of the Tadmorians securely wedged into his place at the crowded table in the hotel dining-room, he failed not to lay the burden of gloomy prophecy once more upon the shoulders of the small person who, as he more than half suspected, was responsible for Brockway's presence. By that time the subjects of the prophecy were well out of sight and hearing in the narrow ravine in which the great canyon has its beginnings. They walked the ties to the end of the track, and beyond that point picked their way over the rough ground until they came to a trail leading up the northern acclivity. Here Brockway took Gertrude's arm and together they began the ascent. "Don't forget what I told you", he cautioned; "you are not to look back until I give the word." "Should I turn into a pillar of salt if I did?" she asked. "Possibly." "Then I'll not do it; it would be rather awkward for both of us."