"Still, you might take the short cut," observed Joe.
"I don't see how."
"Well, my principle is, that the few must give in to the many. Sound democratic maxim. Doña Rosario says she cannot ride. Never mind whether she can or not, truly; but that does not bind us down from taking the cutoff. Not a bit of it."
"I wish you would explain," said Kidd, testily. "What would you do in my place, man full of dodges?"
"One thing—the easiest thing in the world," responded the Carcajieu, playing with his knife on a bone. "I would pick out an old sure-foot mule—we've several rare good ones—I'd put a sidesaddle on, well filled with a bag of leaves, rugs, blankets, and such fixings, so the lady should not get cold, and fasten her in."
"Not a bad notion. What do you think, guide?"
Dearborn laughed in the face of Joe.
"And when the mule slips, your hardbound lady rider would be dashed to sausage meat in the gulf below. They run eight hundred feet deep round here."
"Bah! That's nothing. Apparently, you do not know what a mule is—a cat for clinging to the roughnesses, a fly for walking up a smooth perpendicular."
"Oh, if you think the mule can scramble along—"