"Hi-lee, hi-lo! hi-lee, hi-lo!" sang the guide.
"Will you stop that 'hi-lee' business?" he demanded. "It is lucky for you that you are above instead of below me, or I'd roll a rock down on you."
"Let the cook alone!" ordered Tom Gray. "I don't understand what caused that beast to lose her footing so suddenly."
Hippy Wingate, however, understood only too well, but he did not think best to enlighten his companions, who might have found unpleasant remarks to make. A full hour was lost in getting the brown mare and her pack in condition to proceed, then the journey was resumed.
Later in the day, Lieutenant Wingate found occasion to use his pea-shooter again. The first effort in that direction had proved so successful that he could not resist the second shining opportunity that presented itself. This time Stacy was the victim.
Stacy was asleep in his saddle at the time, his pony moping along with head close to the ground, when Hippy sent a pea straight at the tender flank of the animal.
The pony woke up suddenly, and then another pea hit it. The fat boy's mount bucked beautifully, and Chunky took a long flight, landing head-first in a wild rose bush, howling and struggling, not rightly knowing what had occurred.
"Here, here! What's going on?" shouted Tom, turning in his saddle.
"Stacy has come a cropper. Oh, please do it again, Stacy. It was beautiful," urged Emma enthusiastically.
"I--I fell off," wailed the boy, raising a very red face above the top of the rose bush. "I--I transmigrated, didn't I, Emma?" Stacy grinned sheepishly. "I'll trim the beast for that."
"You will not," laughed Hippy. "The pony was not to blame in the least."
As a matter of fact, the pony appeared to be even more amazed at the mishap than were the Overlanders themselves. The excitement ended, and the party once more under way, Chunky began to ponder over what had occurred, and the more he pondered the more convinced did he become that someone had played a trick on him. He eyed each member of the party narrowly, finally regarding Uncle Hip with suspicion.
"I wonder if he did it?" muttered the boy.
The trail was growing more difficult and perilous with the moments, and the Riders were making not more than a mile-and-a-half an hour, and at one point it curved so sharply that the riders in the lead, in this instance Tom and Stacy, were directly above Lieutenant Wingate, traveling in the opposite direction.