“Ah, well, I suppose that won’t hurt you. I’ll go up and have a chat with Ned, and see if I can mark down any of the enemy.”
They parted, and Chris walked over the rugged stones and down the slopes till he was at the bottom of the valley, with his feet brushing aside the long rich grass in which the mules were standing knee-deep, and which they neglected for the fresh green branches of the shrubs which grew thickly here and there.
“I forgot all about the snakes,” said the boy to himself; “but there can’t be any here, or the jacks wouldn’t be so quiet.”
Quiet they were, for though he walked right through the browsing herd they hardly turned their heads in his direction.
It was different when he reached the half-dozen ponies, which still kept themselves aloof as if preferring their own more aristocratic company. They were so rested and well fed that they were disposed to turn skittish, and two of them communicated their spirits to three of the others, which joined in, tossing their heads, prancing, and making a show of treating their visitor as one who was hiding bridle and bit behind him, ready to entrap and change their pleasant hour’s grazing there amongst the rich succulent grass to a mouthful of hard iron with the burden of heavy riders upon their backs.
In fact, five of the ponies contrived to keep the advancing lad at a distance, while the sixth, which had been grazing slowly, suddenly raised its head and stood staring at him.
At the first glance Chris set this down to feebleness, and looked upon it as a bad sign. But he altered his mind directly after, when he walked up to the animal’s side, patting its neck and passing its soft ears through his hand, for the poor beast whinnied softly, and slowly advanced its muzzle to rest it against the boy’s arm.
“Why, I believe you’re better, old chap,” cried Chris, as he began to examine the pony’s wounds, seeing at once that they appeared to be drying up, while when he moved a yard or two the animal followed him, limping, it is true, but not in a way that suggested permanent injury. “Why, this is cheering,” cried Chris eagerly. “I thought that you and I were never going to have a long gallop over the plains again, and now you look as if you’ll be ready for me to mount in a fortnight at the most—perhaps in a week, eh, old chap? There, I am glad. I say, I should like as soon as the Indians have gone, for you to carry me up to the head of the valley there, and then for you to show me exactly where it was that you fell, and—Hallo! What’s that?”
Chris looked round sharply, but could see nothing but the groups of grazing horses and mules.
“It sounded as if some one had thrown a stone. Can’t be Ned stalking me and up to his games, can it?—There it goes again.”