“What fresh calamities you two fetchin’, now?”
They told him, as briefly as possible, and he found his own perplexity increased as he demanded:
“What in creation is to be done? Here’s Pedro gone and died in the most unhandy place and time; and here be you two, with not a decent leg between you, twenty miles from home, and one horse for the three of us!”
At the word “horse” poor Marty winced, as from a personal blow, while both he and Ephraim were greatly amazed at the news of the shepherd’s death. They began to feel, as John had said, that “nothing save disaster was meant for Sobrante folks;” yet, after a moment, “Forty-niner” perceived another side of the matter, and expressed himself thus:
“What’s got into the pack of us? Seems if we’d lost our gumption. After all, couldn’t anything have happened likelier, so far forth as I see. John Benton, you light off Moses and help this man into your saddle. He’ll ride home and I’ll walk alongside, whilst you tramp on to Marion. There’s a mare there, named Jean. She was offered to me, but I was in a hurry and didn’t accept. However, the offer is due to hold good for any of our folks. Light, I tell you. Marty’s about played out.”
Indeed, the respite came none too soon. The worst injury the gardener had sustained was, apparently, of the head, and a terrible dizziness rendered his progress on foot almost impossible. He would not have been able to accomplish this much of the journey, save for the continual help of Ephraim, who was himself burdened with the heavy pack and unwilling to relinquish it.
John stepped down and swung his fellow ranchman up to Moses’ back; then placed the bundle before the rider, turned the animal’s head toward Sobrante, and chirruped:
“Giddap! Home’s the word!”
Moses needed no second urging, but was off at a gallop, leaving the others to discuss the situation a bit further, and Ephraim to follow at his leisure.