“Come nearer this way,” said Chris, easing his horse off to the right. “There, just at the foot of that great block.”
“And hurrah the second!” cried Griggs, as soon as he had pressed his horse into the right position. “I couldn’t have seen them from where I was even if we had been closer. My word! They rolled a good way, didn’t they?”
“No; they couldn’t, because they are chained together so that they hung across the pack-saddle. The mule must have galloped round that way when he kicked them off.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Come along; I’ll sling ’em across my tit and walk back.”
Griggs sprang off his mustang, and was in the act of passing the reins over the animal’s head, when Chris made a snatch at his collar and held on.
“What did you do that for?” cried Griggs.
“Hist! Don’t make a sound. Look,” whispered Chris.
“Why, what’s the matter?” said Griggs, lowering his voice, for the boy’s manner impressed him, he looked so blank and strange.
“Look! Can’t you see?”
“No, not from where I am,” was the reply.