They found something before they had gone another mile.
Coming up the trail at a slow, leisurely gait was a large donkey, on the back of which rode an Indian man, woman, and two half-grown children. But something else amused the chums more. In pouches secured to the mule’s sides were two other Indian children, their faces sober as they looked upon the whites.
“Where’s a movie camera?” demanded Bob quickly. “I’m going to take a chance with them. They can’t do anything to us.”
“Here.” Joe had removed a camera from his pocket and was turning the crank and exposing several yards of film. “This ought to be interesting on the screen,” he said.
Much to the youths’ surprise, the Indians did not protest at having their pictures taken. They merely stared at the whites in wonder.
“Maybe they haven’t seen a camera before, and don’t know what it’s all about,” was the opinion expressed by Joe.
A little later they came to a flat field, which was being cultivated by an Indian with a team of oxen and a crude wooden plow. It was an interesting sight. The slow animals drew the improvised instrument steadily through the hard soil, while the sober Indian watched closely.
“More movies,” sang Bob, bringing out his camera. “Every little bit counts.”
Again they were surprised to see that this Indian displayed no indignation at the whites taking pictures. Perhaps after all Joe was right and the Indians in this section were not familiar with a camera.
The adventurers had been driving their pack animals ahead all afternoon when suddenly they rounded a bend and came to a narrow river.