“It’s a grown man’s job,” said the doctor firmly, “one that either Griggs or I will undertake. There, come down, and let’s carefully hide the way by which we came up. The enemy may come here again to get a shot at us, and if they do we must not give them a chance for growing suspicious.”
“If they come, sir,” said Griggs. “I don’t think they will—at all events to-day. What they’ll try in the night no one can say. But now then, Chris, my lad, you and your mustang have got to make yourselves fit for everything. We can do nothing till you’re both quite well, and the sooner that time comes the sooner we shall be strong enough to act.”
Chapter Forty Nine.
Griggs is Stubborn.
The days glided by, with the stiffness in Chris Lee’s limbs growing less painful, and the pony recovering fast, for the clear mountain air seemed to act like a cure for wounds. Every day that came showed the injured animal in better condition. Its efforts to move no longer made Chris wince and forget his own pains in those he felt at seeing the mustang suffer.
Every one was busy, for the keeping watch regularly took up a good deal of time. Then shooting had to be attended to, so as to keep up a good supply of fresh meat, till the birds upon which the party depended grew shy of coming to the spring, and two or three anxious discussions had been held about supplies for the future, the result of which was that a decision had been arrived at, for a departure to be made as soon as possible.
Chris was quite strong enough—so he declared—and at last every hour seemed to make an improvement in the mustang.
“It’s all nonsense, Ned,” cried Chris, “for them to think they are staying on account of us.—Hullo, Griggs! Were you listening?”