And Billie was doing the only thing left to him by whipping his broncho, though somehow it seemed to go against the grain to do it once more, after all these long weeks of peace and docility on the part of Jupiter.
Already was the animal lathered with sweat, partly because of his tremendous exertions, but more on account of his excitement and nervous state; for those coming along in the rear were in no such condition.
An hour and more passed, with the wild ride still continuing. But Donald’s keen eye detected signs that told him Jupiter was growing very tired.
“He’ll get him before much longer,” he asserted confidently.
“Looks to me as if the broncho might be weakening,” returned his companion, critically; “you see, the long journey is apt to tell on Jupiter. For days steady we’ve covered a heap of miles, and the grind of carrying all that weight is sure to pull down the stoutest horse going.”
“Yes,” Donald continued, “there, Billie nearly pulled him in then, though when the beast commenced jumping like mad he slashed him with his quirt, and just made him run again, though it was easy to see Jupiter didn’t have much heart for it.”
“The end isn’t far off,” observed Adrian; “and since we’ve covered an afternoon’s gallop in this hour and a half, I reckon we might as well think of halting near where he finally stops his mount.”
“Sure the poor beast will need a good rest!” declared Donald; “I can’t quite make up my mind what ails him. Seems like he had gone clean crazy some way or other. I’ve seen horses act like that when they’d been locoed; but we know our animals haven’t been near any poison weed like that.”
“Well, we’ll soon know a little more’n we do now,” argued Adrian.
“Looks like it, because Billie is going to get the upper hand pretty quick, I reckon, from the way things look,” added his chum.