The horses’ sides were heaving and their heads hung almost to the ground; but Chet, as leader of the expedition, was not willing to allow them much rest.
“Just a mouthful of grass and a drink of water after it,” he said to his chum. “We must wait for our supper until later.”
“All right as far as we are concerned, Chet,” said the other boy, more seriously than was his wont. “But I don’t want you to forget one important fact.”
“What’s that?”
“These horses have been grain fed until we brought them out on this trip. We have ridden them mighty hard, Chet—mighty hard. They are beginning to suffer now. Grass for a grain fed horse is like feeding a man on breakfast food when he’s been used to a meat, Chet. The man will quickly give out, and so will the horse.”
“I’m sorry,” said his chum. “You know more about it than I do, Dig, I admit. But I feel that I just must push on up this river till I reach that island. I want to get there before those scamps do. If there is any such thing as finding the lost deeds, I want to be on the ground first.”
“Uh-huh! I’m on to your desire, Chet. But have a heart for the horses—do!”
“You stay here and rest Poke, then,” said Chet. “I’ll have to punish poor Hero. I’m sorry; but I must get on.”
“Well!” retorted Dig, “you don’t suppose I’d let you go alone, do you?”
“I believe I can handle those two fellows. Tony is only foolish,” Chet said, with confidence—perhaps expressing a larger share than he really possessed.