“After him!” Bob cried, dashing ahead as fast as his legs would carry him.
A more amusing sight could hardly be found. Joe’s laughter mingled with the sound of rapidly moving hoofs, and even old Dr. Rander joined in the merriment.
“Think he’ll catch him?” queried Joe, as pursuer and pursued vanished behind a heavy cloud of dust.
“I believe so,” the old man returned, straining his eyes to make out the figures ahead. “The mule will soon tire of such fast running. He isn’t used to it.”
Dr. Rander was right. Five minutes later Bob appeared from around a hill leading the now calm animal. There was a smile of triumph on the youth’s face as he faced his friends.
“Now that everything has worked out all right, suppose we forget that anything happened,” grinned Bob, as he placed the mule back in the line.
“You going to try riding him again?” asked Joe with a laugh.
“Not on your life. I value my hide too much for that.”
They set forward, heading for the distant high peaks, which were always visible.
An hour of steady climbing brought them to a high plateau, which was bordered by mountains. From this elevation the explorers could command a good view of Cuzco, which seemed but a miniature city in the distance.