In a chorus they gave a loud hallo, and in reply received a faint call from a small ravine.
“He’s over there,” said Broswick, pointing in the direction the voice had come from. “But hark! Sounds like he was in trouble!”
Faintly the wind bore to the adventurers the sound of the professor’s voice pleading with some one.
“Now, please don’t!” he was saying, or rather calling aloud. “You know you shouldn’t do that! Let me alone, I say! Get out of my way or I’ll throw a stone at you!”
“The Indians are after him!” exclaimed Bob.
“There are no Indians around here, Chunky,” spoke Jerry. “You must have redskins on the brain.”
Broswick and Nestor hurried over to the ravine. As they reached it they could be heard laughing long and heartily. Soon a small, wild goat was seen to run from the cut, leaping away over the plain. Out of the defile came the professor, Nestor and Broswick.
“The wild goat had him treed,” spoke Nestor.
“Truly that was a savage brute,” said the professor. “I was gathering some specimens, and had my arms full, when along comes this beast, with lowered horns, and nearly knocked me over. I had barely time to run for my life and climb a tree before he was after me again. His sharp horns scraped my shoe as I climbed. There I was, treed. I didn’t dare come down, for fear he would eat me, or horn me to death. I don’t know what I should have done if you gentlemen hadn’t come along.”