That cavalcade, erstwhile so gala an' buoyant, drags itself wearily homeward, the exhausted dogs in the r'ar walkin' stiff an' sore like their laigs is wood.

For more'n a mile the complainin' howls of the hysterical yeller dog is wafted to our y'ears.

Then they ceases; an' we figgers his sympathizin' master has done took him into the shanty an' shet the door.
"'No one comments on this adventure, not a word is heard.

Each is silent ontil we mounts the Big Murray hill.

As we collects ourse'fs on this eminence one of the Brackenridge boys holds up his hand for a halt.