"I guess, Joe," remarked Matt, "that we'll have to cut loose from both Carl and Ping. What's the use of trying to do anything with them? They act like young hoodlums, and I'm ashamed to own them for pards."
"Pull the pin on the pair of them, Matt," counseled McGlory. "They make us more trouble than they're worth."
A howl of protest went up from Carl.
"For vy you cut loose from me, hey?" he demanded. "I dit vat you say. I pring in der shink."
"You don't do what I say, Carl," answered Matt. "I have tried to get you two boys to bury the hatchet, but you won't. This bickering of yours has resulted in a lot of trouble for all hands, and pretty serious trouble, at that. We can't work together unless we're all on friendly terms."
"My makee fliendly terms," said Ping eagerly. "Givee China boy anothel chance, Motol Matt. Plenty soon my go top-side, you no givee chance."
"Schust gif me some more shances, too, bard," begged Carl. "I don'd vant to haf you cut me adrift like vat you say."
"Well," returned Matt thoughtfully, "I'll give you just one more opportunity. Take the mule and wagon, both of you, and return them to the place where Carl found them. Remember this, though, that you can't travel with McGlory and me unless you show a little more friendship toward each other."
Carl and Ping stepped forward in the gloom. There was a moment's hesitation, and then Carl took the mule by the halter and moved off. Ping trailed along behind.
"Don't say a word to any one about what Ping discovered," Matt called after the boys, and both shouted back their assurances that they would not.