“Then, of course, they didn’t go any farther,” said Dick Thomas.
“Yes, they did. They went acrost that creek, an’ into Don Carlos’ rancho, an’ never touched the ground, nor the water either.”
“Into Don Carlos’ rancho!” repeated Archie in great astonishment.
“And never touched the ground!” echoed Johnny. “Were they carried over?”
“Sartinly not. They walked.”
“How could two solid flesh-and-blood horses walk a hundred yards without stepping on the ground?” asked Frank.
“They could step on something else, couldn’t they? They walked on clouds!”
As the trapper said this, he settled back on the bench, and looked at the boys, to observe the effect this astounding announcement would have upon them. He expected them to be greatly amazed, and they certainly were. Any four boys in the world would have been amazed to hear such a declaration fall from the lips of a man whom they knew to be strictly truthful, and who, moreover, was not jesting, but speaking in sober earnest. They looked at the trapper a moment, and then at one another, and finally Johnny and Dick Thomas burst into a loud laugh; while the cousins, who were better acquainted with their old friend, thrust their hands deep into their pockets with an air which said plainly that they did not understand the matter at all, and waited patiently for him to explain.
“You may believe it or not,” said Dick, “but it’s a fact, ’cause ole Bob seed it with his own eyes. He watched the hul thing from beginning to end, and it well-nigh skeered him to death.”