“Take your places ten feet apart,” Jack whispered. “Let me get a little ahead.”
Creeping to the edge of the wood, he peered out, and then, beckoning to us to follow, stepped softly into the open.
We had chosen our point well. Squeaky, sitting by the stream with his back toward us, was perfectly unconscious of our presence. Softly we advanced until we had covered half the intervening distance, when, just as we began to feel confident that the enemy had been delivered into our hands, that marplot, Toby, betrayed us. He lifted his head, recognised Jack instantly, and greeted him with a neigh of welcome.
Up sprang Squeaky, cast one glance behind him, and bolted in among the animals. With one jerk he pulled up the picket-pin, sprang upon Toby’s back, and clapping his heels into the horse’s sides rode off at full gallop.
“Stop!” shouted Jack. “I’ll fire!”
But before Jack could even take aim the matter was brought to a sudden climax in a most unexpected manner.
Squeaky had hardly got under way when the mule, Calliope, thinking she was about to be deserted by her beloved friend Toby, started off at full speed in chase. She was pretty quick on her feet for a short distance, and being unencumbered by a rider she quickly caught up with him. The fugitive was leaning forward beside the horse’s neck, gathering up the trailing rope with both hands, when Calliope, coming up behind, stepped upon the picket-pin. The sudden jerk flung Squeaky to the ground, head first,—and broke his neck!
It was with a feeling of awe that we gathered round the dead man, and stood looking down at him; thankful that it was not by our hands he had fallen. We were glad that we need fear him no longer, but we were far more glad that his death—to which he had been directly led by his own misdeeds—was due to an irresponsible mule, and not to any one of us. Though, doubtless, we should have been fully justified, both legally and morally, in shooting him if he had shown a disposition to shoot at us, it would have been a grievous burden to bear through life—the thought that we had had a hand in the killing of a human being.
“IT WAS WITH A FEELING OF AWE THAT WE GATHERED AROUND THE DEAD MAN.”