f you, Penelope," I said, quite as though I
seconded her approval of my courage and had forgotten that there were
such things as rattlesnakes. "As long as you are with me you needn't
be afraid of anything."

Nathan's pace was quieter and steadier, and being secure on his back I
felt capable of any heroism. We had passed the worst part of the road.
It was broader, the trees parted overhead, letting in the sunshine, and
danger never seems so near when one moves in the bright day; so my
heart grew lighter, and, had I known the words of any rollicking song,
I should have sung, like James, but lacking these I had recourse to
whistling. Nerves which had been set on edge by the rifle's report,
the fumes of smoke, the cries of pain and fright, were quieted first by
long-drawn, melancholy notes, and then I swung into a bold trilling,
more suited to my adventurous spirit, throwing back my head, extending
my lips heavenward, addressing my melody to the sky. Pausing,
exhausted, I expected to hear from behind me some expression of
astonishment and pleasure at my birdlike song. Instead there was only
a muffled sobbing.

"Little 'un," I said in a chiding voice, "you hadn't otter cry when I'm
taking care of you. There's nothing to be afraid of. Why, we're going
home."

Oh, wise Nathan! Then I thought him obstinate and contradictory.
Halting, he planted his feet as though no power on earth could move
him, and shot forward his long ears. Then it seemed to me that he was
trying to show how futile my boast, and in my anger I dared to kick
him. A fly would have moved him as well. His long ears trembled as he
watched the road rising to cross the ridge, and he seemed to see over
the crest and to hear noises too distant and indistinct for me. Then I
thought him obstinate; now I suspect that while the Professor had given
Penelope to my care, he must have ordered Nathan to watch over us both.
The mule looked right through that hill. He saw the threatening army
charging the other slope. He turned. The bushes opened, and we
plunged into a narrow path which skirted the base of the ridge. In
vain I tried to pull him back. In vain Penelope addressed to him her
appeals. He was fixed in his purpose neither to hear nor to obey, and
struck into a steady canter. I clung to his mane; Penelope, to me.
The earth swung around us. Solid became fluid. The path moved up and
down, and flowed beneath us like running water. Great trees brok