Sliding down the snow-covered side of a mountain in a frying-pan was fraught with all the sensations Hicks had described and some he had omitted.
When they had reached the particular spot which he had recommended for the sport, in lieu of a frying-pan, Hicks gave Mr. Stott a well-worn gold-pan that he had found somewhere.
Starting at the top with the party as spectators, Mr. Stott shot down the side like the proverbial bullet, but midway his whoops of ecstasy changed to cries of acute distress, owing to the fact that the friction wore a hole through the pan to the size of a dollar, and Mr. Stott, unable to stop his unique toboggan or endure the torture longer, turned over and finished the trip on his stomach.
Mr. Stott's eyes often rested upon Hicks afterward with a questioning look in them, but the cook's solicitude had been so genuine that cynical as his legal training had made him, he was obliged to think that it was purely an accident which might not happen one time in a million.
No point in the Park had been anticipated more than the camp at the Cañon where Mr. Hicks averred that the bears came in swarms to regale themselves upon the hotel garbage. Their tour thus far had been a disappointment in that the wild animals, with which they had been informed the Park teemed, were nowhere in evidence.
A deer had crossed the road ahead of them and they had gazed at a band of elk through Mr. Penrose's field-glasses, but otherwise they had seen nothing that they could not have seen in Pennsylvania.
Mr. Hicks' tales of the bears had aroused their interest to such a point that as soon as the camp site was selected they loaded their cameras and kodaks and set off immediately to get pictures while the light was favourable.
It chanced to be one of the days, however, when the bears had no taste for garbage and although they waited until nearly supper-time not a bear put in its appearance. Mr. Penrose, in particular, was disappointed and vexed about it, and while it was unreasonable to hold Hicks in any way accountable for their absence, he could not refrain from saying disagreeably: "I think you have exaggerated this bear business, Hicks. I have no doubt that a bear or two may come down occasionally, I have the word of others for it, but as for droves of bears--swarms--I think you have overstated."
Mr. Hicks cringed under the criticism, and admitted with a conciliatory whine in his voice that was rather sickening: "Perhaps I did enlarge a little, Mr. Penrose. Possibly I was over-anxious to be interesting. I apologize sincerely if I have misled and disappointed you. I hope, however, that you will yet have the opportunity of seeing at least one before we leave here."