said, darting over to the Guide and fumbling for his knife in its sheath at his side. “She could get up if it wasn't for the packs.”
The Guide said nothing, but held desperately to donkey and bush. More stones slid away with a hollow rattle, down into the gorge. The donkey stood, tense all over with the effort of balancing, her eyes wide with fear and her mouth open and gasping.
Mum said, “But …” and then fell silent.
Dad sat down on the edge of the path by the donkey's front feet, and his fingers felt along an old tree root. It curved out and back into the soil again like a perfect handle. He pushed his left hand between it and the rock, and gave a good pull. It seemed to hold well enough to satisfy him, and, crouching down,keeping one foot on the path and one just below the root, he reached up with the knife in his right hand and slashed and sawed at the straps holding our bags.
The Guide's knife must have been very sharp. As quick as a flash, one after the other, the bags fell and crashed away down the gorge.
“Now!” said Dad, backing up and reaching the path, and he seized a handful of the donkey's mane, and one of her ears, disregarding the advice about holding on to the bush, and all three of them heaved.
The donkey realized what was going on, made a desperate effort with her shoulders, and managed to get her back feet onto the edge of the path in one bound, almost treading on her front ones. She made one spring forward and was safe, Dad leaping out of her way in the nick of time, with the Guide and Mum almost knocked flying.
No one could speak for a moment, but coughed and gasped, and banged the dust off themselves, while I just stood as rooted to the spot as I had been when thedonkey had first shied. The whole thing must have been over in a few seconds, but it had seemed like a lifetime.
“Well done, that was very well done,” said the Guide to Dad. “I would not have acted quicker. Only you had the arms long enough to reach so far. But your packs …” And concern crossed his face.
“If the donkey went, all the packs went too, anyway,” said Dad. “Better save the donkey and at least half of our stuff.” He tried to sound matter-of-fact, but tried a bit too hard, so we all realized at once that he had really only thought of saving the donkey.
Parents are so strange. You would have had Mum down for the animal lover, as Dad didn't seem to be too interested in them, to be honest. But he had grown fonder of the donkey than any of us, except maybe the Guide—though he wouldn't admit it.
We all looked at him, the Guide puzzled, and me and Mum surprised, and then Mum laughed and threw her arms around Dad and gave him a big kiss,and then did the same to the donkey. I'm not sure anyone else had done that to the donkey before, but she seemed not to mind and perhaps even liked it.
The Guide's smile disappeared as he turned to examine his previously expertly tied load, or what was left of it. The donkey now had bags only on one side, but still had the cut straps attached, so he could unload her and redistribute the weight evenly. This was very difficult on the narrow mountain path. The Guide battled to tie on the bags with his back to the rocky out-crop, when there was really only room for either donkey or man, but not both alongside each other. Understandably, the donkey seemed nervous of standing on the edge of the path, and pressed against him.
Eventually, however, he managed.
“We've lost none of the blankets, at least,” he said. “Some firewood, but that is not too serious. Most of the cooking equipment has gone, and all but one bottle of water. I am sorry.”
We were all surprised at his apology.
“It wasn't anyone's fault,” said Mum. “Somethingfrightened her. I'm sure she wouldn't have fallen if she hadn't been badly scared.”
“I saw it,” I said.
Mum and Dad looked at me. The Guide added, “I too.”
It was true. When I had glanced up to see what the donkey was
The Guide said nothing, but held desperately to donkey and bush. More stones slid away with a hollow rattle, down into the gorge. The donkey stood, tense all over with the effort of balancing, her eyes wide with fear and her mouth open and gasping.
Mum said, “But …” and then fell silent.
Dad sat down on the edge of the path by the donkey's front feet, and his fingers felt along an old tree root. It curved out and back into the soil again like a perfect handle. He pushed his left hand between it and the rock, and gave a good pull. It seemed to hold well enough to satisfy him, and, crouching down,keeping one foot on the path and one just below the root, he reached up with the knife in his right hand and slashed and sawed at the straps holding our bags.
The Guide's knife must have been very sharp. As quick as a flash, one after the other, the bags fell and crashed away down the gorge.
“Now!” said Dad, backing up and reaching the path, and he seized a handful of the donkey's mane, and one of her ears, disregarding the advice about holding on to the bush, and all three of them heaved.
The donkey realized what was going on, made a desperate effort with her shoulders, and managed to get her back feet onto the edge of the path in one bound, almost treading on her front ones. She made one spring forward and was safe, Dad leaping out of her way in the nick of time, with the Guide and Mum almost knocked flying.
No one could speak for a moment, but coughed and gasped, and banged the dust off themselves, while I just stood as rooted to the spot as I had been when thedonkey had first shied. The whole thing must have been over in a few seconds, but it had seemed like a lifetime.
“Well done, that was very well done,” said the Guide to Dad. “I would not have acted quicker. Only you had the arms long enough to reach so far. But your packs …” And concern crossed his face.
“If the donkey went, all the packs went too, anyway,” said Dad. “Better save the donkey and at least half of our stuff.” He tried to sound matter-of-fact, but tried a bit too hard, so we all realized at once that he had really only thought of saving the donkey.
Parents are so strange. You would have had Mum down for the animal lover, as Dad didn't seem to be too interested in them, to be honest. But he had grown fonder of the donkey than any of us, except maybe the Guide—though he wouldn't admit it.
We all looked at him, the Guide puzzled, and me and Mum surprised, and then Mum laughed and threw her arms around Dad and gave him a big kiss,and then did the same to the donkey. I'm not sure anyone else had done that to the donkey before, but she seemed not to mind and perhaps even liked it.
The Guide's smile disappeared as he turned to examine his previously expertly tied load, or what was left of it. The donkey now had bags only on one side, but still had the cut straps attached, so he could unload her and redistribute the weight evenly. This was very difficult on the narrow mountain path. The Guide battled to tie on the bags with his back to the rocky out-crop, when there was really only room for either donkey or man, but not both alongside each other. Understandably, the donkey seemed nervous of standing on the edge of the path, and pressed against him.
Eventually, however, he managed.
“We've lost none of the blankets, at least,” he said. “Some firewood, but that is not too serious. Most of the cooking equipment has gone, and all but one bottle of water. I am sorry.”
We were all surprised at his apology.
“It wasn't anyone's fault,” said Mum. “Somethingfrightened her. I'm sure she wouldn't have fallen if she hadn't been badly scared.”
“I saw it,” I said.
Mum and Dad looked at me. The Guide added, “I too.”
It was true. When I had glanced up to see what the donkey was
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