I returned to my rooms, and looked over an itinerary of the route, with a schedule of distances and other information. After making myself familiar with all its peculiarities, I told Frank and Henry that if they desired to do so they might accompany me.
They were overjoyed at the prospect. Henry caught Vic by the fore-paws and began a waltz about the room. Then, sitting down, he held her head up between his palms and informed her that she was going to bring back Sancho and Chiquita.
"I think we better not take her, Henry," I said.
"Not take Vic? Why not, sir?"
"The road is long—six days going and six days returning—over a rough and dry region, and she will be in the way and a constant care to us."
"But perhaps we cannot find our horses without her. She will be sure to help us in some way; she always does," said Henry, emphatically.
"She certainly will be of much use to us if we have to make a search," added Frank. "She need be no care to you; Henry and I will look after her."
"I am sorry to disappoint you, boys, but I cannot take the dog. She will be left with Captain Bayard."
This decision made the boys very miserable for some time. They lavished more than their usual attentions and caresses upon Vic, seeming to look upon her as a much abused dog, whose privileges and rights had been tyrannically set aside without reason. They put her to bed in her box, both patting her repeatedly and whispering their sympathies in her ears. Then Frank asked,
"Have you ever been to La Paz?"