Part 7 (1/2)

”Where'd your hear that?” demanded Ned.

”Heard some men talking about it in the hotel back at Forsythe.”

”Mustn't believe all you hear. What did they say?”

”Acting upon your advice, I should say that you wouldn't believe it if I told you,” answered Tad sharply. ”These men are a kind of outlaws, I believe. They steal horses and cattle. Probably sell the hides--I don't know. Somehow the Government officers have not been able to catch them, let alone to find out who they are.”

”Indians, probably,” replied Ned. ”The country is full of them about here, so I hear.”

”Mustn't believe all you hear,” piped up Stacy, repeating Ned Rector's own words, and the latter's muttered reply was lost in the laughter that followed.

It was close to twelve o'clock when they finally emerged on a broad table or mesa. Before them lay the foothills of the Rosebud, rising in broken mounds, some of which towered almost level with the lower peaks of the mountains themselves.

”I don't see anything of our guide's cabin,” said Tad, halting and looking about them. ”What do you think, Professor!”

”We will go on to the foothills and wait there. I imagine he will be waiting for us somewhere hereabouts.”

”Yes, we have followed our course by the compa.s.s,” answered Tad.

However, the lad had overlooked the fact, as had the others, that in order to find a suitable fording place, they had followed the hanks of the East Fork for several miles. This served to throw them off their course and when they finally reached the foothills they were some six miles to the north of the place where the guide was to pick them up.

As they rode on, the ground gradually rose under them, nor did they realize that they were entering the foothills themselves; and so it continued until they finally found themselves surrounded by hills, narrow draws and broad, rocky gorges.

”Young gentlemen, I think we had better halt right here. We shall be lost if we continue any farther,” decided the Professor. ”This is a nice level spot with just enough trees to give us shade. I propose that we dismount and make camp.”

”Yes, we haven't had the tents up since we were in the Rockies,”

replied Ned. ”We shall be forgetting how to pitch them soon if we do not have some practice.”

On this trip, besides their small tents, the Pony Riders had brought with them canvas for a nine by twelve feet tent, which they proposed to use for a dining tent in wet weather, as well as a place for social gathering whenever the occasion demanded its use. They named it the parlor.

In high spirits, the lads leaped from their ponies and began removing their packs. Stacy Brown began industriously tugging at the fastenings which held the large tent to the back of the pack pony.

”I can't get it loose,” he shouted. ”What kind of hitch do you call this, anyway?”

”Young man, that's a squaw hitch. Ever hear of it before?” laughed Tad.

”No. What kind of hitch is a squaw hitch?” asked Chunky.

”Probably one that the braves use to tie up their wives with when they get lazy,” Ned informed him.

”I know,” spoke up Walter. ”It's a hitch used to fasten the packs to the ponies. Mr. Stallings explained that to me when we were in Texas.”

”Right,” announced Tad, skillfully loosening the hitch, thus allowing the canvas of the parlor tent to fall to the ground.

While Tad and Walter were doing this, Professor Zepplin with Stacy had started off with hatchets to cut poles for the tents.

The sleeping tents were erected in a straight row with the parlor tent set up to the rear some few rods, backing up against the hills nearest to the mountains.

In front of the small tents the ponies were tethered out among the trees so as to be in plain view of the boys in case of trouble. Profiting from past experiences, they knew that without their mounts they would find themselves helpless.

In an hour the camp was pitched and the boys stood off to view the effect of their work.