“Now you’re talking!” Bob patted his chum on the back. “We came here for adventure, and we mustn’t kick when we get it.”
Along toward noon Bob was lucky in bringing down a wild duck, which flew from a jungle not far away. Roasted over a fire, it proved good eating, despite the fact that it was tough.
Dinner—for that was what the youths called the noon meal when they were on exploration trips—over, they took it easy in the shade of a group of stunted trees, which grew almost straight out from the mountainside.
“Trail’s pretty bad,” observed Joe, his eyes on what could be seen of the narrow path as it circled up the peak. “But I suppose it’s nothing to what we’ll find it later on.”
Which proved fairly accurate, as they later observed. At times the trail was so rough and rocky that it was with greatest difficulty that the mules were able to clamber up the steep elevations. On one occasion it was necessary for the mules to jump up a three-foot rock, which obstructed the trail dangerously near a five-hundred-foot drop.
“Steady, now,” cautioned the old man, helping the youths unload the mules. “If we make a misstep, it will prove our finish.”
None of the explorers did, fortunately. But one of the mules was not as lucky. It was the last animal in the line and had been carrying only trifles that were not of necessity to the explorers.
The other mules had safely jumped to the top of the rock and were grazing on the thin patches of grass that grew on the mountainside.
“Hurry, now,” came from Joe. “Let’s get this last fellow up.”
Scarcely had the words left his mouth when the unfortunate animal lost its footing and, balancing for a moment at the edge of the canyon, plunged helplessly over the brink.