Bob did not make any verbal reply; but he gave the other's sleeve a
jerk that was intented [Transcriber's note: intended?] to tell Frank he
understood, and would be careful. Then they moved along again.
It was no easy task making progress through the darkness, and over such
rough grounds, without causing any sound. Bob found that he had almost
to get down on his hands and knees and creep, in order to accomplish
it. But his chum had not forgotten that he was new to this sort of
business, and hence he gave Bob plenty of time.
Then Bob in turn began sniffing, and Frank knew that now he, too, had
caught the trail-odor, which was constantly becoming stronger. Thus
they were positive that while they moved forward they must be gradually
drawing nearer the source of the smoke.
Another tug came at Frank's sleeve, at which signal he bent his head
low so that his chum might say what he wanted in his ear.
"Sounds like voices!" whispered the excited Kentucky lad.
Frank gave a little affirmative grunt.
"Rustlers, maybe?" Bob went on.
The other made a low sound that somehow Bob seemed to interpret as
meaning a negative to his question.
"Then prospectors--Lopez and his bunch?"
"Uh!" Frank replied; and then himself lowering his lips to the ear of
Bob he went on: "What's the matter with Peg and his crowd? They might
have got up here ahead of us. Quiet now!"
Bob did not attempt to say another word.
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