“Sh!” Ballard put a hand over the small boy’s mouth. There was scarcely need for this. At that moment from very close at hand, there came the heart-rending cry of a baby pig in mortal terror. And, before one of the boys could move or breathe, along the trail, below them and all too close, there came the hugest bear they had ever seen. And closely gripped between his gleaming teeth was the hopeless porker.
“There—there’s your hog thief,” Johnny whispered low, as the bear vanished round a boulder. “What you going to do about it?”
“N—not a thing,” Ballard stammered. Whereupon the three boys, seized with a nervous desire to laugh, all but burst their sides holding in.
In the midst of this, Ballard sobered with a suddenness that was startling. With a shaky finger he pointed as he hissed: “Look! Just look down there!”
The other boys looked, then stared. Almost directly beneath them was a narrow, swinging bridge across a rocky chasm. It was a foot bridge made of boards and light cables. Ballard had crossed this bridge hundreds of times, but always on foot. Never had he seen horse or mule attempt to cross it. But at this moment, as they stared, expecting instant catastrophe, they saw, standing at the very center of the old and fragile bridge, a huge, black mule.
“It’s Sambo,” Ballard said hoarsely. “Uncle Mose Short’s Sambo! Poor old Uncle Mose! His mule will never make it. The cables are sure to break. The mule will be killed. It’s the only mule Mose ever had, or ever will have. Wonder what made him try to cross?”
“Got untied somehow,” Bex suggested. “Went out hunting for Mose. We got to do something. We really must.”
Just at that moment, the small pig gave an unearthly squeal.
“The bear!” Ballard whispered in an awed tone. “He’s up there ahead of us on the trail somewhere. There’s no way to get down to the bridge but to go right up ahead there where the bear went.”
Johnny rose. He wanted to go but something seemed to hold him back. He knew Uncle Mose, the oldest mountaineer of that region, knew and loved him. Uncle Mose was a famous cook. He could make the most marvelous stewed chickens and dumplings. Uncle Mose’s mule should be saved somehow. But how?