Johnny’s mind was in a whirl. “The bear, the bridge, the mule, Malcomb MacQueen,” he thought over and over. For all that, he followed Ballard as closely as he dared.
Strangely enough, at that moment, like a sudden burst of light, his duty to Hillcrest College and the coach stood out before him. If he went down there when would he come back? Somehow he felt himself being drawn from the path of duty. And yet, when approaching tragedy calls, one must obey that call.
The moments that followed were the wildest ever experienced by the young trio, Johnny, Ballard, and Bex. Casting aside all caution, they went gliding down the rocky mountainside at a perilous speed.
“Come on!” Ballard cried. “We gotta’ stop him, save him. He’s the best man that ever lived. He’s fed folks when they were nearly starving. He put our school back where it’s fine. He—he’s helped hundreds of people. Now if the bridge breaks—if he goes down—”
He did not finish. His feet came down hard on the narrow trail. This brought back to his mind with the force of a blow, the realization that but a moment before, a huge bear had gone up that trail. The bear carried a half-grown pig in his mouth.
“You don’t dare molest a dog when he’s eating,” he whispered to his companions. “No more do you dare interfere with a bear. But we gotta’ go that way. Have to be sly and cautious, that’s all. Not a word now.”
Next instant, on tiptoe but with utmost speed, he was away.
Johnny caught his breath, then followed. Little Bex brought up the rear. Now they rounded a huge boulder. Was the bear there? No. A clump of pines lay straight ahead. Behind those, waiting, ready to roar and spring perhaps?
Strangely enough, though he moved forward silently, Ballard was not thinking of the bear. He was thinking instead, of the little drama, that like a moving picture, was being played out beneath them. The swaying bridge, the mule, the gray haired benefactor of a whole community, all played a part in the drama, that for the time, was hidden from their view. What was happening? Would the man go on the bridge in an attempt to save the mule? Mr. MacQueen loved Uncle Mose, indeed he loved every one. That mule was Uncle Mose’s chief treasure. Without him, he could not earn a living. If the gray haired man went on the bridge, would it break? And if it did? Ballard could not bear to think. And all the time he was speeding forward.