HO ! FOR GRAY'S PEAK 1 227 



gawking at us, smiling in a half-suppressed way, and 

 making quaint remarks in which we could see no 

 wisdom nor humor. We had not come into the town, 

 like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, merely to furnish 

 the villagers amusement. Applying our canes and 

 straps forcibly to the haunches and rumps of our burros 

 only seemed to embarrass the poor creatures, for you 

 can readily see how they would reason the matter out 

 from their own premises : If they were to go no farther, 

 as had been decided by themselves, why should their 

 riders belabor them in that merciless way ? For down- 

 right dialectics commend me to the Rocky Mountain 

 burro. 



Finally a providence in the shape of two small boys 

 came to our rescue, and in a most interesting and 

 effective wav. Seeing the predicament we were in, 

 and appreciating the gravity of the situation, those 

 nimble-witted lads picked up a couple of clubs from the 

 street, and, getting in the rear of our champing steeds, 

 began to pound them over the haunches. For small 

 boys they delivered sturdy blows. Now, if there is 

 anything that will make a burro move dexterously out 

 of his tracks, it is to get behind him with a club and 

 beat a steady tattoo on his hams and legs. No sooner 

 did the boys begin to apply their clubs in good earnest 

 than our burros began to print tracks in quick succes- 

 sion on the dusty road, and we went gayly through the 



