Part 5 (2/2)

”What's the matter?” asked Bud. ”See some sign?” By this he intended to ask if the old plainsman saw any indications that they were hotter on the trail of those they sought.

”Nope!” answered Old Billee. ”But we're going to camp and make coffee and frizzle a bit of bacon. No use keepin' on any longer. We can't do anything more till mornin'.”

”Camp it is!” exclaimed Bud, ”and I'm not sorry, either.”

Shortly a fire was going, made from twigs and branches picked up under a few trees near where the party had stopped, and soon the appetizing aroma of coffee and bacon spread through the night air.

”Um! But this is jolly!” cried Nort.

The horses were picketed out and after the midnight supper the wayfarers rolled themselves in their blankets and prepared to pa.s.s what remained of the night in the glow of the campfire, and beneath the fitful light of the cloud-obscured moon.

CHAPTER V

AT SPUR CREEK

d.i.c.k was dreaming that he was at a football game, and that his brother Nort had hold of him and was trying to pull him through the line of opposing players to make a touchdown. Then the dream seemed to become confused with reality, and d.i.c.k felt some one tugging at the blanket in which he had rolled himself so snugly.

Half awake and half asleep d.i.c.k's brain struggled to clear itself and get the right impression of what really was going on. Then he became aware that his blanket was actually being pulled--this was no dream.

”Here! Who's that? What you doing?” he cried, and instinctively he began groping for his gun, which was in its holster in the belt he had taken off for the night.

Something cold and clammy touched d.i.c.k on the cheek, causing a shudder to run through him.

”Snakes!” he yelled. ”Rattlers! Look out!”

His frantic cries roused the others, and Nort and Bud struggled to free themselves of their enveloping blankets as they sat up near the smouldering blaze of the camp fire.

”What is it?” cried Bud, who had only half heard what his cousin shouted.

”Snakes!” again yelled d.i.c.k.

”Snakes nothing!” disgustedly grumbled Billee Dobb, who did not relish having his slumbers broken. ”It's too cold for snakes to be out to-night.” Then the plainsman tossed on the fire a bit of wood which, when it blazed up, revealed the cause of the disturbance.

”It's your horse!” cried Nort with a laugh. And it was d.i.c.k's faithful pony who, having slipped his tether, had wandered over near human companions.h.i.+p, and had been pulling at d.i.c.k's blanket with his teeth.

Then the animal rubbed his cold and clammy muzzle on d.i.c.k's face, giving the lad the impression that a scaly rattlesnake had tried to crawl over him.

”Well, I'll be jiggered! Blackie!” gasped d.i.c.k, when he saw that it was his horse. ”Whew, but you gave me a fright!”

”You oughter look fust an' yell afterward,” commented Billee as he turned over to go to sleep again.

The boys laughed and again wrapped up in their blankets, after d.i.c.k had secured his horse with the others. A dim light was now showing in the east, indicating that morning was not far off. But it was cold and cheerless, even with the fire, for it was not a very large blaze, and d.i.c.k was glad to follow the example of his brother and cousin and roll up for a final doze before daylight.

”Well, now we'll see what happens,” commented Nort, as they were preparing a simple breakfast, over the replenished campfire. ”Think we might catch 'em to-day, Billee?”

”It all depends,” was the old cow puncher's answer. ”We can't spend too much time chasin' these scamps. There's work to be done at the ranch. Hang that perfesser, anyhow!”

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