Oscar supposed that he would, of course, go off with the mustang (the two animals never seemed to be easy when they were out of sight of each other), but the mule showed no desire to do anything of the kind.
He called to his companion several times, and then, turning about, galloped up to Oscar and brayed at him, as if he were trying to tell him how lonely he was.
“So you are going to stay with me, are you?” said the boy dolefully. “That is very kind of you. I must give you back to your master in the spring, and if you had gone off, I should have been two hundred dollars more out of pocket; but where I should have raised the money to pay for you is more than I can tell. Come on, old fellow!”
The mule followed Oscar toward the cabin, and would probably have gone in there with him, if the door had not been closed in his face.
Oscar was gone but a minute, and when he came back he had a piece of hard tack in his hand. He gave the mule a bite of it, and, holding the rest just in front of his nose, led him around to his quarters and shut him up. Oscar felt a little easier after that.
Having put it out of the mule’s power to run after his companion, the young taxidermist went back into the cabin to see how things looked there. It was in the greatest confusion; but, without wasting any time in useless repining, he set to work to restore order.
At the end of half an hour he had got matters in such a shape that he could make an estimate of his losses. His rifle was gone from its place over the door, but the cartridges that belonged to it were all there. The thief had not taken them, because he did not know how to manage a breech loader; and he had carried off the rifle in order to put it out of Oscar’s power to follow him and recover his property by force of arms. A good portion of the bacon and crackers was missing, but the cans containing the condensed milk and preserved fruits were none of them gone. The robber did not know what they were. The saddles, bridles, both his blankets, all his cherished specimens, and every one of the skins he and the guide had trapped had disappeared; but the wolfer had not wantonly destroyed anything, and Oscar was very thankful for that.
This forbearance on his part was all owing to his wholesome fear of Big Thompson. If Lish had known that his dreaded enemy was more than forty miles from the valley, and increasing the distance at every step, he would have taken more time to select his plunder; and his desire to be revenged upon Oscar for something the boy never did might have led him to burn all that he could not carry away.
