“Gilly, why do all these horrid little burros insist upon walking on the outer rim of this razor-edge!” called Joan, who had vainly endeavored to guide her mount nearer the perpendicular wall on the inside of the trail.
Mr. Gilroy laughed. “They’d much rather you would scrape your thigh than theirs.”
At this moment a shrill cry came from one of the women who had objected to the divided skirts, “I got to go back! I just got to—right off!”
“You can’t!” shouted a guide. “You’ll be off, all right, if you don’t keep quiet and sit tight—Off into space. But you can’t go back now.”
“You’d better turn around and help me get back!” shrilled she. “I’ll sue you if you don’t do as I wish.”
“Madam, it’s impossible to get back. The trail is only wide enough for a burro. How in the name of all possessed do you expect this line to turn around and pass itself in order to lead you up?”
The guide was impatient, but he hushed the threatening female for a time. Soon after this, the riders came to a broad shelf where all might relax the tension. Once here, the woman who had wanted to return to the hotel spoke again.
“Here I stay till you come back! You don’t get me to go no further.”
Then her companion began to remonstrate with her, and the scouts heard the argument.
“They won’t rebate a cent, Lizzie. All this money for this ride wasted while you sit here waiting and the mule ain’t workin’, at all!”