"No," said Rita, "I don't believe they're good for that."
"Anyhow," said Ni-ha-be, "the whole camp is getting ready to move. Come, Rita, let's you and me ride on ahead."
"No, you won't, neither of you. You'll stay by me, now. If the great chief wants you again, I must have you where I can find you."
The girls looked at one another, but there was nothing to be gained by rebellion.
"Ni-ha-be," said Rita, "we can keep close together. They won't go fast, and we can look at the leaves all the way."
On an ordinary march a good many of the squaws would have had to go on foot and carry their pappooses, and perhaps heavy loads besides, but the orders of Many Bears prevented that this time. The poorest brave in camp had a pony provided for his wife and children, and as many more as were needed for his baggage, for the chief was in a hurry, and there was to be no straggling. His orders were to push on as fast as possible, until a safe place to encamp in should be found, or, rather, one that could be more easily defended than the exposed level they were leaving.
The idea of coming danger was spreading even among the squaws, and they were in as great a hurry as Many Bears. They did not know exactly what to be afraid of, but they were thoroughly alarmed for the swarm of little copper-colored children they had in charge.
"THERE WAS ONE LITTLE PATIENT-LOOKING MULE WHICH HAD MORE THAN HIS SHARE."
Some ponies had more to carry, and some had less, but there was one poor little long-eared, patient-looking mule which had more than his share.