ne farthest off, which had tried to
roll its load off till it had been brought up short by getting its legs
perpendicular to paw the air--being unable to get over to right or left,
consequent upon the two packs thoroughly wedging it up, so that its
razor back resembled the hull of a boat whose keel was fitted in the
chocks, the pawing legs looking like so many motive masts.

All this seemed to be too much for Skeeter, who stretched out his neck
till his muzzle was in a line therewith, literally shed tears, opened
his mouth, distended his nostrils, and with ears quivering, emitted the
most startling sound ever heard. It was not a neigh like his mother
would have given, nor a bray such as his father would have uttered, but
a hoarse yell made up of the most discordant elements of both, and it
was no wonder that the doctor's voice was drowned.

"Be quiet, you brute!" he cried angrily, making a pretence of kicking it
in the pack; and then he stared in wonder, for it seemed as if a fresh
misfortune had affected one member of the expedition in a peculiar way.
That member was Chris, who suddenly dropped his hold of Skeeter's rein,
and with his face horribly distorted, began to roll about in his saddle.

"Oh, Griggs!" he gasped. "Ned! Somebody! Hold me on."

"What is it, boy?" cried the doctor--"Bitten?"

"N-n-n-n-no, father," he panted. And then, "Oh dear! Oh dear! I--I--
I--I--I can't help it. I--"

There were other words, but they were confused and strange; but though
they did not convey in words the meaning of the seizure, they pointed
out what was the matter. For it became evident that Chris was laughing
wildly--madly--hysterically, and to such an extent that he had lost all
control of himself, and had hard work to keep in the saddle.

To make matters worse, the mirth proved contagious to such an extent
that Griggs sat looking at him, then at the mules, and back again, with
his mouth expanding into a broad grin, while Ned slid off his mustang
quietly, held on to the rein, and then lay down in the sand, to laugh in
the same uncontrolled fashion.

"Well," cried Bourne angrily, "this is a nice way to treat our
misfortunes!"

"I--I--I can't help it, father," panted Ned, and he laughed more than
ever, while Wilton's lips as he sat looking on began to quiver and then
widen out.

"Here, stop it, you two," he growled at last. "Come and help collect
the things."

"I--I can't yet," panted Ned, who laughed more