And perhaps, who
knows, we might be able to tell you all about the queer noise that
shakes the earth every little while around the big uplift. So-long,
Hank!"
The old cowman sat in his saddle, and looked after the two boys as
their horses went prancing away, each of the riders turning once or
twice to wave a jolly farewell, with uplifted hats.
"As fine a pair o' happy-go-lucky boys as ever drawed breath," Hank
muttered, as his eyes followed their vanishing forms beyond the
mesquite thicket. "But I sure feel bad 'bout them goin' into that 'ere
Thunder Mounting territory. I hopes Mr. Haywood'll start out with a
bunch o' cowmen to round 'em up. But he thinks that Frank kin hold his
own, no matter what comes along. If he don't show signs o' bein'
worried, I'm goin' to see if the overseer, Bart Heminway, won't take
the chances of sendin' several of us out to hunt for strays; an' it'll
be funny now, how them mavericks all run toward Thunder Mounting."
Chuckling, as if the new idea that had appealed to him gave him
considerable satisfaction, the old cow-puncher stirred his little
bronco into action, and was soon galloping away. But, more than a few
times, he might have been observed to turn in his saddle and cast a
look of curiosity, bordering on apprehension, toward the dimly-seen
mountain that arose far away on the Southwestern horizon.
For to Hank Coombs that peak stood for everything in the line of
mystery and unexplained doings.
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