"Keep together," called out Dave.
"It's going to be a tussle," panted the sailor. "My, but she's a skittish one."
Daley had mounted one of the dadons after cutting its tether. Dave had succeeded in landing himself on the back of another.
The dadons were horses in all things except a peculiarly long mane and a head shaped like that of a zebra.
The minute Dave got mounted he managed to form the tether into a kind of a nose loop, but he could get no control of the animal under him. He could simply hold on.
Both dadons were wildly averse to being ridden. That on which Daley rode made a blind dash through the corral ropes, and Dave's animal followed him.
Some darts rained about the fugitives for a minute or two.
Then disappointed howls alone told of the natives they had eluded.
"Try to stop," shouted Dave to Daley, who was in the lead, after they had made a reckless rush of fully two miles across a great level stretch of heather.
But Daley did not hear Dave or was unable to heed him. He kept straight on. The heather ended. A great range of hills presented. As Daley and his steed turned into these, Dave lost sight of them.