Juanita walked up to the saddle-bags, sniffed at them with distended nostrils and eyes opened wide with horror. Well might she do so! The escaping fluid made the leather curl up like a burned boot, and as I held them up the liquor ran from them much as you may see it run from a clam fresh dug from the sand.
A startling thought suggested itself, and I was on the point of dropping them when the Doctor rolled over in the dust and called out, "Oh, never fear; there ain't going to be a second explosion; the powder is in a tin case on the other side!" I felt reassured and comforted, and proceeded to replace them upon the Doctor's saddle and tie them on. None of the horses appeared to have been seriously hurt.
The party once more united, we took a fresh start. Whitey, with the Doctor in the saddle, led off this time. Some of the liquor from the saddle-bags oozed out upon his back, and appeared to infuse new spirit into him. He reared up behind, and let out his legs right and left as if feeling for the object which annoyed him, switched his tail and snorted viciously, then bolted for San Rafael as if life or death depended on his reaching there inside of ten minutes and he meant to be there on time. He buckled down to the work like a woodchuck hunting a new hole, and made every point tell. Occasionally his hind legs, getting impatient of the rate of progress made by the fore ones, would make a spasmodic effort to go off on their own hook and take the lead, thereby causing the Doctor to roll
