Under the persuasion of Injun's club, Pedro was soon seated on the pack-horse, his legs bound very tight beneath the horse's belly and the cavalcade started on their sixty-mile trip.
The cavalcade started on its sixty-mile trip.
The moon had risen and shed a full, silver flood over the woods and the prairie, and it was almost as light as day. It is said that moonlight will make almost anything look romantic; but it is hard to believe that Pedro, clad in a wet, bedraggled coat and red flannel underwear, and with a leash around his neck and his hands tied behind his back, could have inspired anything but laughter in anybody. He was "mad clear through" and his language was distinctly not fit for publication—he had abandoned all efforts to wheedle by this time, having discovered that he was not dealing with children, as he had at one time supposed—and he proceeded to exhaust a very comprehensive vocabulary of profanity in what sounded like six different languages. Whitey stood it for some time, and then he said, "Now look here, Pedro, if you say another word before sunrise, I'm going to put a gag into that foul mouth of your's that'll keep you quiet. I wouldn't let even these horses hear such talk! You told me to say my prayers, and now, I think, under the circumstances, you better follow your own advice!"
And thus admonished, in addition to the fact that Whitey drew the slip-noose a trifle tighter around Pedro's Adam's apple, that gentleman proceeded to subside.
It would be idle to follow the incidents of the long ride to the Bar O ranch—in fact, there was no incident worth noting. Pedro made several efforts to talk himself out of his plight, and once, he tried to get his hands out of the bonds that held them and almost succeeded. But what good it would have done if he had succeeded, is not plain. The boys had a sharp eye on him at all times, and his legs were firmly bound beneath the horse. Besides, Injun was right on hand and ready with the club, which would have had a very salutary effect on anybody.