"Why, Alden!" interrupted his mother. "Imagine Priscilla doing a thing like that! You don't suppose, do you, dear," she continued, turning to Mr. Winthrop, who was reading his daughter's letter for a second time while he finished his breakfast, "you don't suppose Priscilla is really handling a gun herself?" "Sounds like it to me," said Priscilla's father as he turned the pages. "She says, 'I can knock a bottle all to pieces at thirty yards. Don't you call that pretty good?'" "I'd like to know the size of the bottle before replying," commented John. "Dear me!" said Mrs. Winthrop anxiously. "I'm willing she should ride horseback and climb mountains and camp in a perfect wilderness if that's what Western people term pleasure, but I do wish she wouldn't shoot a gun! I'm afraid I shan't have a minute's real peace till she gets home. Of course I know she's in the best of hands, but accidents are so common. Just yesterday I was reading where----" "Now, Mother!" remonstrated the boys. "Don't worry for a moment, Mother," reassured Mr. Winthrop. "She'll come home safe and sound. I'll trust those good people out there to look after her." He turned the pages again. "She's certainly having the time of her life! Makes me wish I were young again myself!" "That skin will look splendid in the library," said Alden. "Read again what she says about sending it, Dad." "Read it all, Dad!" suggested John. "There's plenty of time." Priscilla's father willingly complied. He evidently shared his sons' pride in his daughter's achievement. "'HUNTER RANCH, WYOMING, "'July 26, 19--. "'Dear Folks at Home: "'I am covered with dust and dirt and just dead tired, but I can't wash or dress, or even rest until I tell you the most thrilling experience of my whole life! I, Priscilla Winthrop of Boston, Massachusetts, have helped to trap and kill a bear! I know shivers are running down your back as you read this. Imagine then what it must have been to live through the _real thing!_ To ride up the trail all eagerness and excitement; to visit the empty traps and turn away disappointed; to see your horse as you neared the third suddenly prick up his ears and rear----'" "Dear me!" cried Mrs. Winthrop. "I'm sure, John, those horses out there aren't well-broken!" Mr. Winthrop nodded reassuringly, and continued: "'To hear Dick call back that there must surely be a bear; and, at last, to come upon the infuriated monster, dragging his trap about, gnashing his teeth, and trying to reach you!'" "Oh, dear!" moaned poor Mrs. Winthrop. "Go ahead!" cried the boys. "'I trust you are now in the atmosphere to appreciate my story.