He addressed this to the pony, but there was no suggestion of his address having been heard, so obeying a sudden impulse he dropped out of the saddle, readjusted the sling of his rifle, and then tightened the saddle-girths before going to the pony’s head, to feel the head-stall all over, and stroke and pat the little cob-like animal’s neck, ending by passing its ears through his hand, and then passing the back against the velvety muzzle, with the result that his companion whinnied with satisfaction.
“Now, old chap,” he said, “we’ve got to get home, and I may as well be honest. I can’t guide you, and I’ll let you have your head all the way, and make you up a nice mash of meal in one of the buckets when we get there for a reward. Think you can do it?”
“Yes,” said the boy, after a pause; “silence gives consent, as I once read somewhere. Now, which shall I do, ride or lead you? I shall ride, for if I lead you it will be all a sham, and I shall only be getting you into difficulties. So there: I’ll trust you. Take your time. Want any water?”
The boy pulled the little animal’s head towards where he believed the water to be, but it did not stretch out its neck, so he mounted again.
“Now then,” he said, “back to camp.”
The pony started at once, but Chris drew rein.
“No, no; that won’t do. That’s right, turn round. We don’t want to go any farther to-night. Now then, steady. Don’t fall and pitch me over your head. The way’s right on, and you can’t go off right or left. Ck! That’s right. When you feel in doubt about a stone or hole or a bush, stop short and I’ll get down and feel about for you.—Well done!”
This last was in admiration, for without the slightest hesitation the pony had set off, pacing steadily back along the way they had come, but with its head very low-down, as Chris realised by the steady draw that had been given at the reins.
“Talk about eyes,” muttered Chris, “why, they’re microscopes. I say, though, I mustn’t go to sleep. I believe I could without falling off. It wouldn’t be fair, though, for I ought to let him hear my voice now and then.”
All the same Chris was perfectly silent, and spent his time gazing hard upward at the long jagged ribbon of black purple, now gemmed with brilliant stars, which spread along overhead. From time to time he looked forward to try and make out obstacles in front, but he could see nothing; there was naught to do but listen to the pony’s footsteps and think of what they were doing at camp and what they would be saying about his non-return.