The saddle boys on the plains

“We might as well drop off here, boys!” said Mr. Riley, after they had reached the base of the hills.

“Oh! don’t change your mind about that, please,” sighed Bob, as he slid from his saddle, and almost fell upon the ground.

But this was more on account of the stiffness of his legs than because he was utterly exhausted. He proved this shortly afterwards, when he insisted on removing the saddle and bridle from Domino, and fastening the lariat to his neck, so that the animal might not stray.

The three lolled upon the soft, yielding turf, which never felt finer. Bob was on his back, staring up at the black heavens, back of which the moon shone, even if they could not see it.

“This feels fine and dandy,” he commented, stretching himself.

“Couldn’t be beat!” declared Frank, who was doing the same thing as was his chum, and with as much relief to his cramped muscles.

“But we’ve got to go hungry to-night, boys,” remarked Mr. Riley; “which is some hardship to a couple of lively and growing lads, I take it.”

“Oh! if it comes to the worst,” chuckled Frank, “I’ve got a little something here in my ditty bag. Always carry a small lot of dried beef along. Once in a while it comes in mighty handy. Try it, Bob?”

“It might take my mind off other things if I worked my jaws; so perhaps you can pass me along a little hunk,” the other replied. “Fact is, I’m more thirsty than near the starvation point.”

“Hark!”

Frank said this, as he sat upright.

“It was only one of the horses, Frank, giving a little wheeze,” Bob remarked.

“Yes, I know that; and it was Buckskin too,” Frank went on. “I reckon I know just what that little wheeze means. The wise chap smells water close by. There must be a creek coming down from the hills somewhere near.”

“Perhaps if we listened we might hear it gurgle,” suggested Bob.

“That’s a good idea, old fellow,” Frank observed.

They listened carefully.

“I think I get it,” said Frank, whose ears proved to be keener than those of his companions; “and it’s over in this direction, too,” pointing to the left.

“Suppose you go and see, then,” suggested Mr. Riley.

“I will,” Frank replied, always ready to do anything that would be for the comfort or pleasure of his friends, no matter what his physical condition.

He was gone perhaps five minutes, when he returned. Bob was startled as he suddenly saw a dark form loom up alongside.

“It’s there, just as I expected, fellows,” Frank declared. “And so we’d better lead the horses along that way. Fine place to sleep, too, with the music of that little brook sounding in your ears. Nothing could be nicer, according to my way of thinking.”

Bob managed to get to his feet. He was surprised to find how stiff he seemed to be after lying there for that short time.

The horses could hardly be restrained; for they knew what awaited them beyond. And once they reached the little stream that came from the heights above, it was astonishing how eagerly they bent down and quaffed the cooling liquid.

They lay there for an hour or more, resting.

“Sleepy, Bob?” asked Frank, after there had been absolute silence for some time.

“Oh! a little,” replied the other, candidly; “but not enough to keep me out of any game you’re engineering, Frank.”

“I thought that perhaps you’d dropped off,” remarked Frank, laughingly.

“Well I was thinking of other scenes, that’s the truth,” admitted Bob; “and didn’t pay any attention to what you two were talking about. Is there any game on foot now? Are you thinking of doing a little looking around?”

“That’s just what,” answered the other; “but we can get on without you, if you’d rather stay here by the horses, and rest up.”

Truth to tell, Bob was secretly hoping that would be the programme for them all; but being a proud lad he would not have confessed it for worlds.

“What! me stay here while the rest of you are hunting for those rascals?” he exclaimed, as though indignant at the bare mention of such a thing. “Not much you don’t, my boy. I go wherever you do. Just stick a pin through that, will you? And now, what’s doing?”

“Oh! well, we just thought we’d like to follow up this stream a bit,” said Frank.

“But what for?” demanded the other, groping in darkness as to a motive.

“You know we believe those two robbers came to these foothills?” Frank went on. “And we had some sort of notion that perhaps they knew all along where they were heading. In other words, that they had either a camp here, or else a shack. Get that, Bob?”

“Sure I do; but go on, please,” said Bob, eagerly.

“You saw what we did just as soon as we hit here, and got an idea there was water around—made a bee line for the same as fast as we could hike!” Frank continued.

“And you believe they would do the same; is that it?” Bob demanded.

“If anybody put up a shack, or even a camp here, in these hills, he’d be foolish not to make constant use of this little creek. And as we are about at the place where it spreads out on the plain, it stands to reason we must look above for any sign of our game. How about it now, Bob?”

“I’m on, all right. It’s as plain as the nose on my face, once you explain the business. And Frank, you’ll never have to tell me that thing again. Once is enough for me. Do we start right away?”

“Might as well,” replied his chum. “We only expect to go so far; and if nothing shows up, it’s back here for us, and a good sleep till morning.”

“And then?” Bob continued.

“Oh! we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” laughed Frank, meaning of course, by this, that he and Mr. Riley had not as yet discussed what another day might bring forth.

They took note of the lay of the land, so that when they wished to return to where the horses had been left they could easily find the place.

“Of course all we have to do is to drop down the hill alongside the stream; but we would want to know when we had arrived,” said Frank, as he fastened a spare white handkerchief he happened to have with him, to a stick, which later he thrust into the ground. “I’ve often been joshed because I carried that along with me when a red bandana is the only kind for a cowboy to have; but it’s served a use more than once, and will again,” he added.

“Do you think miners have camps in among these hills?” asked Bob, always seeking information.

“How about it, Mr. Riley; you ought to know better than a fellow whose home is about two hundred miles to the north of this, and on a cattle ranch at that?” and Frank turned to the ex-superintendent of the Cherry Blossom mine as he spoke.

“There are no mines here that I know about,” replied Mr. Riley. “But every little while we hears about some prospectin’ party strikin’ copper, or somethin’ over here. Reckon now there might be a camp or two around inside of fifty mile; with a bunch of happy-go-lucky fellers holdin’ out. P’raps we’ll strike one above, an’ find our birds minglin’ with the rest.”

“It might be worse,” admitted Frank. “I had an idea we would find that they belonged to some bunch of outlaws from the other side of the border, and come up here just on purpose to rob the Cherry Blossom strong box every month.”

“It’s all guessing in the air, you see,” Mr. Riley remarked. “So let’s get a move on, and find out how things stand.”

They now left the spot where the three horses were grazing, secured with their ropes; and began to climb upward, following the course of the little stream.

It was not so easy as they might have anticipated, for the trees soon began to shut out what little light came from the clouded heavens, and made it doubly dark.

Bob of course brought up the rear, and Frank was careful not to proceed at such a pace as he fancied might distress his chum, unused to such work.

They had been climbing in this way for some little while, when those in the advance halted, as though they wished the tail-ender to catch up. And when Bob did come along, he was not quite sure whether it had been decided to turn back, or that one of his companions had found out something worth investigating.

“What is it?” was his natural query as he drew up alongside the others.

“Bend your head down, and then look up the hill under these lower branches of the aspen tree. What do you see, Bob?” asked Frank, quietly.

“Why, it’s a light, sure!” said the other, almost immediately.

“You’re right it is, Bob!”

“But not a camp fire, Frank; it looks to me as if it came out of a window in a cabin of some sort,” continued the Kentucky lad, steadily, knowing that his chum wished to learn what he thought, so as to discover whether he were making any advance in woodcraft.

“Just what it is,” declared Frank; “and we’ve got to find out who is in that same cabin.”