"Yaw; dat ish all right—I allers dink so."
"Sebastian advises us to keep on toward the village; we won't be able to travel very fast, as your horse has got about ten wagon-loads on his back, and if you're going to ride on top, he'll have to set down and rest about every hundred yards. So they will overhaul us, afore we can reach the village. Are you going to ride your hoss? If not you're welcome to straddle mine."
"No; I rides my hoss—you see he expects me, and I dush not disapp'ints him."
"All very well," replied Crockett, "but how the hokey-pokey are you going to get on top?"
"I shows you."
Hans Bungslager, as I have said, had his horse so loaded down that he was almost invisible. The pillow-bed "lapped" on each side so much that his head and a little of his neck could be seen. On this was placed another bulging tick, while numerous articles were adjusted and balanced with a skill which showed that the delicate hand of Katrina had borne a share in the task. These necessarily projected from the side of the horse, but she had remembered that the path they expected to follow was quite narrow, and the "breadth" was principally upward.
Having walked to this point, Hans concluded that he was entitled to ride, and indeed in loading his horse, care had been taken to arrange the articles so as to make him a nice comfortable seat.
Hans displayed his innate sagacity by leading the horse beside a short stunted tree with a projecting stumpy limb, upon which, with considerable "boosting" by Crockett, he managed to climb, and then, thanks to the gentleness of his horse, he safely "located himself upon his back."
"Now I ish ready," he called out, hitching about a little, so as to make sure he was firmly seated; "drive ahead."
Crockett pressed forward, and in the gloom saw a well-defined path before him, running parallel with the creek. This was the one referred to by Sebastian, and he took it at once.