“Of course not,” agreed Ruth.
Jane Ann showed her how to slip the slicker over her head. Its folds fell all about her and, as she rode astride, she would be well sheltered from the rain if it began to fall. They were now some miles from the camp on the river bank, but had not as yet rounded the extreme end of the herd. The grazing range of the cattle covered practically the entire valley.
The stirring of the herd had grown apace and even in the thicker darkness the girls realized that most of the beasts were in motion. Now and then a cow lowed; steers snorted and clashed horns with neighboring beeves. The restlessness of the beasts was entirely different from those motions of a grazing herd by day.
Something seemed about to happen. Nature, as well as the beasts, seemed to wait in expectation of some startling change. Ruth could not fail to be strongly impressed by this inexplicable feeling.
“Something’s going to happen, Nita. I feel it,” she declared.
“Hark! what’s that?” demanded her companion, whose ears were the sharper.
A mutter of sound in the distance made Ruth suggest: “Thunder?”
“No, no!” exclaimed Jane Ann.
Swiftly the sound approached. The patter of ponies’ hoofs—a crowd of horses were evidently charging out of a nearby coulie into the open plain.
“Wild horses!” gasped Jane Ann.