“Viggly,” whispered Oscar.
They drove on. Frijole was chuckling, and Henry said, “What is so funny?”
“That buckboard,” choked the little cook. “We got a hind wheel and a front wheel on each end. No wonder Oscar feels viggly!”
“My goodness!” exclaimed Henry. “Hadn’t we better remedy that?”
“No. It can’t hurt anythin’—except their feelin’s. Keep goin’.”
There was no moon, and a slight overcast ruined the starlight for illumination. Henry had to trust to the team entirely. On the first sharp turn they felt a decided jerk, and heard a crash. The team stopped short, when Henry applied the brake.
“W’ere de ha’al do you t’ink you are going?” wailed Oscar.
“I see!” grunted Henry. “Sharp turn, and the buckboard did not make it in time. Hm-m-m-m!”
Oscar and Slim were scratching matches at the buckboard, and Slim came up to report, “You almost knocked the hubs off both wheels, scratched the body and some of the spokes pretty bad.”
“I shall try and do better on the next one,” promised Henry.