Narrower and narrower grew the path until it was scarcely two feet wide. Here the decline on the one side became little better than a precipice.
At last Cottle came to a halt.
“It is no use,” said he; “we will have to take the other path around this mountain. Last week’s storm has ruined this road for good. Can you turn around or back to that small turnout?” he asked of Oliver, who was in the rear.
“I’ll try,” replied the boy. “I guess I had better get off and lead Dobbins.”
“Be careful,” Mr. Whyland warned him.
“Yes, be careful,” said Cottle; “that mule ain’t the kindest critter in the world.”
Throwing the reins on the animal’s neck, Oliver essayed to slide to the ground. As he did so, Dobbins shied nervously to one side.
“Look out there!” yelled Cottle. “Catch him quick!”
“Yes, yes! Catch him!” echoed Mr. Whyland, while Gus sat still, too terrorized to speak.