"Wha—at is it?" demanded Margery, sitting up.
"Look at that, will ye?"
The girls got as close to the animals as was prudent. Janus parted the hair on the hip of one horse and pointed to a small wound. The other horse bore a similar wound.
"Oh, they have hurt themselves. Isn't it too bad?" sympathized Hazel.
"Hurt themselves!" exploded the guide. "Those wounds were made with some sharp instrument, maybe a knife. I don't know. Now, can you blame them for running away and taking the tent down? This business is moving too fast! What are we going to do?"
"You are the guide, sir. You are the responsible head of the party," replied Miss Elting.
"I thought I was, too. But, I swum! I don't know which from t'other any more. Jim, what do you think about that?" pointing a finger at the horses and indicating their wounded hips. "Did they get them themselves, or did somebody do it to them? I can't make up my mind."
"Some one did it, Jan. The hosses never did that themselves."
"But how could they?"
"Maybe tied a knife to a long stick. Didn't mean to do any serious work or would have cut deeper. Just went through the skin, that's all, but enough to set the critters crazy. See any one about these parts?" questioned the driver, turning to the girls.