Besides that; what could there be to make
trouble?"
"Oh, I'm not bothering my head over it, Bob," declared the other, as he
dropped into the nest he had made in his blanket. "But say, did you
take notice of the way our horses acted while that thing was going on?"
"Just what I did," the other replied. "They must have been trembling
all over. I could hear your Buckskin snorting to beat the band, and
pawing just like he does when he's worried. Reckon they didn't know
what to make of it, either, seeing that there's nary a sign of a storm
cloud around. But both horses have quieted down again. They think all
danger of a howler has passed away."
Frank made no reply. He was already getting ready to resume his
interrupted nap; and Bob lost no time in following his example, both
confident that in the alert Buckskin they had a sentry capable of
giving ample warning should peril threaten.
Once more Frank composed himself for sleep. The many noises of the
night, which had seemed to cease while that mysterious rumbling was
going on in the heart of the lofty mountain, had again resumed sway.
The hum of insects; the melancholy hooting of the lonely owl, in some
willow or cottonwood tree near the base of the mountain; the far-off
howl of the prairie wolf; or the more discordant voice of the skulking
coyote--all these things were as familiar music in the ears of the boy
whose cradle had been the rich black earth of the grazing country ever
since he was old enough to remember anything.
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