Half an hour after sunrise on the following morning they bade the storekeeper good-by and were off. Each one was in the best of spirits, though Oliver was still sore from his frightful tumble.
The little stretch of plain before them was soon crossed. At its termination they came to a narrow defile, between a small mountain on one side, and some rugged rocks and bushes on the other.
“Were it not for these natural roadways the journey from one place to another would be next to impossible,” said Mr. Whyland as they rode along.
“I believe you,” said Oliver. “However would we be able to climb this mountain, small as it is? No mule could ascend such a steep place.”
“Don’t be too sure about that,” put in Cottle; “it is wonderful what a mule can do when put to it. But such an undertaking breaks them all up.”
At noon they found themselves still in the pass. Gus stated that he was growing tremendously hungry, but Cottle said they had better wait for dinner.
“We want to get out of this pass as soon as possible,” he added; “in a couple of hours it won’t be a safe place to be in.”
“Why, what do you mean?” exclaimed Oliver.
“I see some bad looking clouds over there,” replied the guide, pointing with his finger. “We are going to have a storm some time this afternoon.”