"But we mustn't forget this. We're loading the leading mule, and it's the one that wears that bell round its neck. Where is it?"

"The bell? Last time I saw it was when father hung it on one of the gun-pegs over the fire-place."

"Oh!" exclaimed Chris, "and old Griggs is just finishing nailing up the door."

"Then he'll have to un-nail it again," said Ned grumpily. "Hi, Griggs!"

There were two or three echoing raps with the hammer, and then a couple of finishing blows, before the American cried--

"Hallo, there!"

"You're nailing up the mule's bell."

"Who says so?" and there was the commencement of the driving in of another nail.

"I do," cried Ned. "You must open the door again."

_Rap, rap, rap, rap, bang, bang, bang_, as another nail went home.

"Can't be done."

"But we must have that strap and bell."

"Come and fetch it then. It's hanging on the hitching-up hook at the end of the house."

"Oh!" sighed Ned in a voice full of relief, and he ran to the place specified, to lift down the bell and the collar-strap, to come back ringing it loudly.

"Hoi! Hallo, there! Steady!" cried Wilton excitedly. "Don't do that."

Ned gagged the bell at once by thrusting his left hand in its mouth and holding the clapper; but the little peal he had rung had done its work of setting all the mules in motion, bringing them all up close to the ringer, who found himself in the midst of a knot of squealing and kicking brutes, who diversified their vicious play by running open-mouthed at one another to bite.

But they were all loaded at length, there was a final look round, and then a move was made for the long shed, whose big door gaped wide, and as their footsteps were heard there was a shrill neigh from within and the sound of impatient stamping.

"This looks like a start at last, doctor," said Griggs, who came up last.

"Yes, at last," said the doctor.

"Got the map all right, sir?"

"Yes, in my saddle-bag. You said you had done everything that fell to your share."

"Everything but locking up this door, sir, and here are the keys," cried the American, holding up a leather bag, in which he jingled the hammer and a few of the big nails within.

"That's right," cried the doctor. "Now then," he shouted, "every one tighten his mustang's girths a hole or two, and sling his rifle across his back before mounting. Got your revolvers, boys?"

"Yes, father--yes, sir!" came in response, and the next minute half-a-dozen rough-looking wiry cobs were being unhitched and led out through the low doorway, to stand champing their big bits, fidgeting to be mounted and given their heads for a canter.

"Every one see that his bag and blanket are all right," cried the doctor; and then Griggs' voice was heard.

"Some one take my nag's rein," he said. "Will you, Squire Chris?"

For answer the boy reached out and took hold of the strap, casting his eye over the st.u.r.dy little steed, which seemed too small to carry so tall a man as its rider.

Chris noted that there was the long hide la.s.so-rope curled up and hanging in its place by the saddle-bow, and that the saddle-bags were in their places, carefully strapped on, so that a tin bucket, which was also hung behind, should rest on one and not prove a nuisance to horse or rider.

Ned was close to his companion, and he said--

"I say, it would have been much better if we had kept to our old idea and had, say, three light mule-carts. What a lot of these odds and ends we could have stowed out of the way."

"I said so to old Griggs," replied Chris, and then he was silent.

"Well, what did he say?"

"Only grinned at first."

"Well, what then?"

"He said it would have taken so long and been so expensive, because we should have had to send an army of men on first to make a road all the way we were going."

"Which means he was laughing at you."

"Grinning, I call it. But I suppose he's right, because when you come to think of it, there'll be no track, and a lot of our travelling will be in and out among the mountains. There, that's the last door," said Chris with a sigh, as there was a loud bang following the creaking of hinges that had been rarely used. Directly after, Griggs' hammer came into play, making the horses restive and back away from the noise to the full extent of their reins.

"Yes," said Ned, with a sigh, "the last door. I say, Chris, now it has come to it, don't you feel a bit sorry to go away from the old place?"

"Horribly," said the boy in a low, husky voice. "What fun we used to have!"

"Yes," said Ned, "before everything got to be so dull because things failed so and made my father so low-spirited."

"He wasn't so low-spirited as my father was; but I s'pose there wasn't much difference," replied Chris, to the accompaniment of Griggs' hammer and the fidgeting of his nag. "Quiet, will you, stupid! He isn't going to hurt you."

"I say, how jolly grumpy it used to make Mr Wilton."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Chris. "A year ago he was always ready for a bit of fun, fishing, snaking, squirrel-hunting, or seeking honey. But there, no wonder; he felt like father, that it was all lose, lose, lose, and that it was unfair not to be at work."

"And it took all the fun out of our games."

"Yes, no more games now, Neddy. Father said last night when we were alone that we must bid good-bye to being boys with the place--leave all that here, and begin to think of being and acting like men."

"Yes, and my father said something like that to me, Chris; and somehow now it has come to making the start I don't feel as if I want to be a man yet. It was so jolly to be a boy here in the dear old place. Oh, bother the old gold! I wish that poor old chap hadn't come here to die."

"So do I," said Chris, and his voice sounded very husky now as he gazed round him at the many familiar objects. "I say, look how my apple-tree has grown!"

"Yes, and my pear," said Ned quickly. "It has beaten your old apple all to bits."

"Well, of course it has," said Chris roughly. "Pears do run up tall and straight and weak. Apples grow stout and strong and slow."

"They've done well enough."