for he was only a mule after
all, and all scouts looked alike according to his manner of thinking.

Smithy was walking there now, having the leading rope that was connected
with Mike in his hand; in fact, he had wrapped it around his wrist
absent-mindedly. And as he talked confidingly to the animal, he was also
engaged in rubbing Mike's nose. Twice the mule had plainly given him to
understand that he preferred to be let alone while staggering along
these mountain trails, bearing that big pack on his sturdy back; but
Smithy was really thinking about some wonderfully beautiful wild flowers
he had seen clinging to the face of a precipice further back, and
wishing he might be so lucky as to get hold of such a prize; so that he
paid no attention to the impatient thrust from the mule's nose.

It happened just then that Thad, Allan and the guide were in the
advance. Something engrossed their attention, and they were holding an
earnest talk-fest among themselves. Had it been otherwise, Toby
Smathers, who knew mule nature like a book, must surely have warned
the kindly Smithy that Mike was in a most irritable frame of mind, and
that he would do well to leave him severely alone for the present.

Behind Smithy and Mike came Davy Jones, carrying his little camera, and
looking for new worlds to conquer. He had snapped off the procession
several times, and of course the mules always occupied posts of honor in
the pictures. Back of him Bob White and Step Hen were sauntering along,
telling stories, and observing things in general; after them came
Bumpus, puffing and blowing with the exertion; while Giraffe brought up
the rear, leading the other pack animal, known as Molly; and just about
as full of tricks as Mike ever dreamed of being.

Thad was in the act of pointing toward the valley, glimpses of which
they could obtain from their lofty position, when he heard a
tremendous outcry from the rear that gave him a bad shock. Turning
like a flash, the scoutmaster discovered that one of the patrol was
missing. There was no need to ask who it was, for there he saw Mike,
the pack mule, with his feet pushed out to keep himself from being
pulled over the edge of the shelf of rock; while the taut rope told
that poor Smithy must be dangling at the other end, with an ugly fall
threatening him if by chance the rope came loose from his wrist, where
he had wrapped it!

CHAPTER II.

TIDINGS OF THE LOST MINE.

"Help! help! Smithy's tum