It was an anxious moment for Tom. His feeling of gratitude at his own fortunate escape was for the moment almost forgotten as he bent over the animal.
His blood-shot eyes and painfully heaving sides indicated a badly distressed condition. There was an ugly cut on its right hind leg, and several bruises caused by the horses falling upon him, but the Rambler could discover no injuries that seemed to be of a serious nature.
“Hooray!” he almost shouted. “Just all in! A mighty narrow squeak, though, sure enough! Ha, ha, Cranny, just wait till I see you again. I’ve got a tale that’ll make you open your eyes!”
Tom felt in a rare good humor. It was certainly an adventure which would sound well in Dave Brandon’s history of the club. Then his thoughts suddenly reverted to Bob Somers. Unmindful of the wind or rain he stood pondering deeply. He strove to reconstruct the scene in his mind at the instant his companion had shouted. What had been Bob Somers’ course?
“Oh! Of course, Bob’s all right,” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll bet it never even ruffled his hair.”
Tom Clifton’s confidence in the other’s ability to take care of himself under all circumstances was so great that he was easily able to dismiss all worry concerning him and concentrate his thoughts on the situation that confronted him.
With a gunny sack he washed the mud from the animal’s body; then by a little gentle persuasion managed to get him up on his feet. He felt convinced now that his diagnosis was correct, yet, from the way in which the animal bore his weight on the injured leg, he realized that he would be in no condition to travel for hours.
At the base of the hill a thick grove of cottonwoods suggested a pleasant place for a camp. Tom, of course, well knew the danger of seeking shelter under trees during a thunder-storm; but, by this time, the lightning had passed far enough beyond for him to have no hesitation.
He began to lead the mustang down the incline, finding to his great satisfaction that it limped but slightly.
“That’s another fine piece of luck,” he reflected, gleefully. “Now if the rain would only let up a bit, I wouldn’t kick about a single thing.”