"He's killed!" cried Anne, voicing the thought that was in the mind of each of her companions, and a concerted rush was made for the clump of laurel. They found the colored boy somewhat dazed when they dragged him from the bushes. "Wha--whar dat 'monica?" he gasped, referring to the harmonica that he was playing when the mule kicked him. "Maybe he swallowed it," suggested Emma. "I hope not, for he surely would have musical indigestion. Wouldn't that be terrible--for us?" "No great loss if it has landed over in the Cumberlands," observed Tom Gray. "Wash, where did the mule hit you?" "Ah reckons all ovah, 'cept on de bean. Why dat fool mule kick me? Hain't nevah done nothin' laik that befo'. Ah ask yuh why he do dat?" insisted Washington. They glanced at Emma, whose face reddened. "I threw a stone at you and hit the mule, if you must know," she said. "The mule passed it on, hitting you with his foot. That mule must have played tag when he was a child. I'm sorry, Wash--but if you had been attending to your business you would not have been hit." Washington's first thought upon recovering from his daze had been for the harmonica, and his first act, after getting to his feet, was to go in search of it. He found it after considerable effort, and ran the scales on it. "Glory be!" cried the boy. "Dat fool mule ain't done kicked de music out ob it." "Listen to me, Washington," demanded Grace, stepping over and laying a firm hand on the lad's shoulder. "You will put that instrument away--" "'Tain't no inst'ment. Hit's a 'monica," he interrupted. "I am speaking. Put it away, and do not let me see you touch it again until you have finished your work. Do you understand?" "Uh-huh." "See that you do not forget. Unpack both mule packs, but look out for the mules' heels, and remember that we did not hire you for an ornament. Emma Dean, let this be a warning to you," admonished Grace, turning to her companion. "Never trifle with a mule. They are all notoriously devoid of a sense of humor." Washington, in the meantime, had shuffled away and had leisurely begun removing the packs. "Speaking of ornaments, I suppose I am the only real ornament in this outfit," observed Hippy. "You mean the kind that they pack away in the garret with broken chairs and old chromos," suggested Emma. Hippy shrugged his shoulders and walked away, followed by the laughter of his companions. Emma had scored again, as she frequently did, and Hippy, instead of being ruffled, took keen delight, as usual, in her repartee. "I fear that boy is not going to do at all," said Grace's husband with a shake of the head. "As I have remarked before, you should have a man for a guide, a man who knows these mountains and who is able to protect and look out for you girls in the event of your getting into trouble." "But, Tom dear, don't you think the Overland girls by this time should be quite able to look out for themselves?" begged Grace.