Surviving Summer Vacation by Willo Davis Roberts Page A

after unloading all the bags, I saw why.
    Somebody in a mini motor home, no better at driving an RV than Mr. Rupe, had attempted to back out of a parking space and crunched in the front fender of the blue Crown Victoria. Two elderly ladies and the two men were standing there in the hot sun, and they all seemed rather agitated.
    I grinned a little, glad the men were going to be busy—maybe, I hoped, while some park ranger checked out the situation?—while we were gone.
    I got to the others just in time to see Old Faithful beginning to erupt. It came up in a little squirt, and everybody began to get their cameras into position, including Harry, and then it died away for a minute or so while everybody in the crowd held their breaths. It did that severaltimes, and each time Harry snapped pictures before there was anything to see that was more than a few feet high. And then it shot high up into the air, higher and higher, while the tourists oohed and aahed and shutters were clicking all around us.
    â€œOh, shoot, I ran out of film!” Harry said, about a minute later. “I have to reload! I’ll miss the rest of it!”
    I didn’t have a camera—Dad refused to let us take his good Nikon—so I’d already bought postcards.
    It was a good eruption, high in the air, and it lasted long enough for everyone to get a good look and pictures. I was impressed to think this happened, the water spouting out of the ground, twenty times or more every day. But Harry slung the camera back around his neck and said, “Is that all there is to it?”
    â€œSo much for the wonders of nature,” I muttered to Alison as the crowd began to disperse.
    She dismissed Harry with a glance. “Lewis,” she said quietly, “what are we going to do about the guys who are following us? Should we call Dad, do you think, and ask his advice?”
    â€œAnd have him take time off from work and come get us before we see the rest of the park?” I asked. “He can’t do anything for us from home, and he probably would have to give up his own vacation time to come. Mr. Rupe’s a terrible driver, but so far he hasn’t done any serious damage to anything. He’ll probably get us home okay eventually.”
    Her expression didn’t change; it was still worried. “But what if they’re dangerous?”
    â€œThere’s only so much they can do when there are always so many people around. I think,” I said slowly, “maybe we ought to look for the money, if that’s what it is, that’s hidden in the coach. Then if it turns up, we can find a cop and report it, and let the authorities decide who it belongs to.”
    About that time Billy decided he wanted an ice cream cone, and we all headed back to the stand where we could get some. Mr. Rupe paid for them all, so we didn’t have to use any of our own money.
    When we got back to the motor home ­Ariadne had chocolate ice cream dripping off both elbows because she’d bitten the bottomout of her cone, so Alison hurried her off to clean her up. I hesitated long enough to look for the blue Crown Victoria.
    It was gone. But I didn’t think we’d seen the last of it.

Chapter 8
    If it hadn’t been for the Rupes, Yellowstone would have been a blast.
    Of course, without the Rupes, we’d never have been there, so we made the best of it.
    Harry was bored with geysers and paint pots after the first ones, Billy preferred to play with William, Ariadne listened when we showed her things and explained them and Mr. and Mrs. Rupe annoyed the other tourists by their lack of consideration and by Mrs. Rupe’s cigarette butts, which she dropped throughout the park.
    Harry kept demanding that we see a bear. I think partly he was teasing his little sister because she was afraid of bears, but mostly he was used to getting what he wanted without waiting for it.
    Unfortunately the bears didn’t cooperate. We saw