"What is the matter with you, Mr. Peabody?" asked Tom.
"I'm almost gone," groaned Peabody. "My strength is exhausted, and, besides, I've got a terrible corn on my left foot."
"How long has that been?"
"For two or three days. It's torture for me to walk. I don't know but you'll have to leave me here on the prairie to perish."
"Not so bad as that, Mr. Peabody, I hope. Perhaps Mr. Chapman will lend you his donkey to ride upon."
The owner of the donkey was within hearing distance, and at once expressed a willingness to lend his animal to Mr. Peabody.
"That will be better than perishing on the prairies," said Tom cheerfully.
"I am not much used to riding," said Peabody cautiously.
"He won't run away with you, Peabody," said the owner. "He's too lazy."
Lawrence Peabody was already aware of this fact, and it gave him courage to accept the offered help. He mounted Solomon—as the donkey was called, for some unknown reason—and for a time enjoyed the relief from the toil of walking. He became quite cheerful, and was disposed to congratulate himself upon his success, when an unfortunate fit of obstinacy came over Solomon. It dawned upon the sagacious animal that it would be much easier to travel without a load, and, turning his head, he looked thoughtfully at his rider.