He said that must have been the one called “Robber’s Cave.”
My youngest sister piped up, “Did you stay all night with some robbers?”
My oldest sister said, “Silly, that was a long time ago. There aren’t any robbers there now.”
The other one put her nickel’s worth in, “Weren’t you scared?”
“No,” I said, “I wasn’t scared of staying in the cave, but I heard a mountain lion scream and it scared me half to death.”
“Aw, they won’t bother you,” Papa said. “You had a fire, didn’t you?” I said, “Yes.”
He said, “They’ll never bother you unless they are wounded or cornered, but if they are, you had better look out.”
Papa asked me how I liked town. I said I didn’t like it at all, and wouldn’t live there even if they gave it to me.
With a querying look on his face, he said, “I’m afraid I don’t understand. I thought you always wanted to go to town.”
“I did,” I said, “but I don’t any more. I don’t like the people there and couldn’t understand them.”
“What was wrong with them?” he asked. I told him how they had stared at me, and had even laughed and made fun of me.
He said, “Aw, I don’t think they were making fun of you, were they?”
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