h and found it to be
something more than that, as it was quite a deep cut in the back of
the ridge, and continued into a narrow ravine, which was quite heavily
wooded, and down which ran a pretty little stream of the clearest
crystal.

"We ought to see those mules soon now," said Juarez.

"There's the trail," said Jim, "just a bit of it high up."

"I see it," replied Juarez.

"We will cut it soon now," remarked Jim, "then we will head those
Missouri runaways."

But before they did that, a lively dash was before them, for suddenly
they came in full view of the upper trail for a mile or more.

"There are those rascals," cried Juarez, pointing with an excited
hand.

"I see them," said Jim.

"Brethren," remarked the mule in the lead, to his long-eared comrades,
"here come our masters to head us off. Let us run." He wig-wagged this
piece of news with his long ears and a waggle of his short tail. They
understood perfectly and acted in unison. They did not trot, but
started at a swift, sharp lope down the trail. It was fortunate for
the packs that the boys were old mountaineers and knew how to make
them secure else they would have been jostled into the ravine below.

The boys cut loose at full gallop down the ravine, utterly reckless
of what might be ahead of them. They tore through the brush, crushing
down every obstacle in their way, determined to head those mules or
die in the attempt. They were mad through and through, and, for one,
I can sympathize with them. They won the race by about twenty feet.
Caliente with one last leap was in the trail.

The mules saw that they were intercepted and came to a halt, and
looked at Jim and Juarez with quiet unconcern, mingled with a slight
surprise at being so rudely interrupted in their little jaunt.

"You blasted, long-eared, rat-tailed beggars, get back where you
belong," yelled Jim; "you hustle."

"Give me a rock, I'll help 'em," cried Juarez.

He reached from the saddle and picked up a number of fragments of
broken granite, and Jim did the same. Then they began to pepper those
mules with carefully aimed stones, sometimes striking their haunches
and sometimes their ears, keeping them at a steady jog trot up the
grade.

"Take that, Missouri!" Jim would cry, flipping a stone at the leader.

"Here's one for you, Pike County!" laughed Juarez, aiming at the
second target.

So they kept it up, thus getting even for all the trouble the runaways
had made them, which w