“Now until that heals some you’ll have to ride your mount,” Dr. Rander said. “Don’t take no from him for an answer. Get on him and make him carry you forward.”
While Joe and the old man held the mule securely, Bob mounted and with drawn reins held the animal at a standstill.
“Hurrah!” yelled Joe. “You’ve made him give in.”
“Not altogether,” Bob said. “But I think I can manage to stay on.”
At the end of two days of riding the mule, Bob was convinced that the animal was not really as balky as he had at first supposed. Over high hills and rocky paths he carried his rider, until at last Bob’s foot became well enough for him to walk.
“I’ll sort of hate to do it,” laughed the youth, when they were camped under a high overhanging rock.
“I know,” said Dr. Rander. “But there isn’t much choice in the matter. After all, our mounts are not to be ridden except in such an emergency as this. They tire too easily when on the rocky trails, and it isn’t best to put much of a load on them.”
On, on the little party plunged, into the heart of the mountainous region. On every hand they saw something to hold their interest.
They had been on the trail about four days when they saw something that was indeed unusual.