The Peril Finders Part 93

"To be kicked at and threatened and called names?"

"Oh dear, how stiff I am! But really, Ned--no gammon--have I slept like that?"

"Of course you have. Don't you remember?"

"Yes, I think so. Yes, of course. But what about the Indians?"

"Oh, they're hanging about. Some are at the mouth of the gulch, and some are on the cliffs at the top of the valley, but they don't come near."

"Haven't got the horses and mules, have they?"

"No. We've kept too sharp a lookout for them."

"Oh!" cried Chris wildly, and his face contracted with pain.

"Well, I suppose it hurts," said Ned, with a trace of sympathy in his voice, "but I wouldn't holloa like that. Get up and move about, the stiffness will soon go off."

"I wasn't shouting because of my hurts," said Chris bitterly. "I was thinking of my poor mustang."

"Yes," said Ned, after a pause; "that was a horribly bad job; but I've been thinking about it all, old chap, and I've settled what we'll do.

I'm going to play fair--same as you would if it had been my nag. We'll share one between us. I'll have him one day, and you shall have him the next."

"That wouldn't be fair," said Chris, who was rubbing himself and kneading his joints where they ached.

"Yes, it would. You wait and hear. Then we'll have that mule that we took to fetch the water--old Brown Ginger. He's a regular brick, and likes us. Don't kick so much as the others--and take it in turns to ride him. What do you say now?"

"Well--yes! I like that idea; but you wouldn't care for that."

"Look here, you're growing a sore-boned, old disagreeable. Say I'm a selfish beast at once."

"Shan't!"

"Then it's all right," cried Ned.

"It's very good of you, old fellow."

"Bah! Rubbish! Stuff! I say, are you so very sore?"

"I can't hardly move some ways."

"Like me to give you a rub?"

"Oh no," said Chris, increasing the friction he was applying across the small of his back. "I shall be better soon. Only it's just as if I'd been hammered all over. But how queer that I should sleep like that!"

"Not a bit of it. The doctor said it was all right and it would do you good."

"Where is he?" cried Chris.

"Along with Wilton, watching the Indians down at the gulch. Father's up yonder along with old Griggs, keeping an eye on the top of the cliff, and shooting the birds that rise out of the hollows and rifts there.

They come down our part to get at the water."

"Then you've been all alone?"

"Yes, playing pony and mule-herd. n.o.body at home but me in this big three-storey house."

"But what about breakfast?" said Chris anxiously.

"Over hours and hours ago. Hungry?"

"I think so: I feel very hungry."

"That's a good sign," cried Ned, grinning. "Now I'll confess. That's why I roused you up. There's coffee hot, and damper, and a split-up and frizzled bird. I don't know what it is. Sort of vulture crow, perhaps."

"What! A carrion bird?" cried Chris. "Disgusting! They're not good to eat."

"Oh, these are--delicious. I ate half of one this morning. Perhaps they're not carrion birds, though."

"It's all your gammon," cried Chris. "Who shot them?"

"Old Griggs, when they came after the water."

"That proves it. Old Griggs knows what's good to eat well enough.--Hah, that's better. I'm not quite so stiff now. But is there plenty of water?"

"Lots. Why?"

"I want to have a wash."

"Bucket and pan waiting for your lordship in the bathroom. There, go and have it; and look sharp. You'll find me in the kitchen. We're using that till the workmen have been to put the breakfast-room in a state of repair."

"You seem pretty lively this morning," said Chris, rather sourly, for he was in a good deal of pain.

"Of course I am. We're enjoying ourselves so."

"You did nothing but grumble yesterday, and said I was having all the fun."

"Ah, but I didn't know how sore you were going to be then," cried Ned merrily. "There, look sharp. Breakfast's waiting.--I say."

"What?"

"I wouldn't stop to shave this morning as it's so late."

Chris pa.s.sed his hand over his chin.

"I expect it wants a sc.r.a.pe," he said, "to take all the dust off."

A few minutes later, feeling much refreshed, Chris was feasting away at a most enjoyable breakfast, the lads chatting away merrily the while.

"I say," said Ned, "this wouldn't be a bad place if it wasn't for the Indians. Quite a palace when it's put in repair. Land one's own; the soil beautifully rich. I believe anything would grow here. I vote we settle down."