"No," said David. "There isn't a drop. I've looked the whole cache over for it."
"Well, here! You just take what you want out of our can. We've got milk if we haven't got butter. Try some of that dried fruit, too."
Having thanked his friends, David inquired if the trail was in good shape. He was thinking that before long he would be tramping back over it.
"Yes," answered Close, "most of it's good; but there's some bad bogs where the horses get mired. Those cattle herds have cut it all to pieces where the ground is soft. We haven't had much trouble, though."
"No," put in his companion, "when we get started we can go along well enough. The worst of this packing business is ketching the horses in the morning. The critters are as sly as foxes. They'll stand so still in the thickets when they hear you coming that you can go within ten feet of 'em and never know they're there."
"They keep pretty well together, though," said the other, "and the tracks are generally plain. Besides, there's a bell on one of them."
"If they were my horses," declared David, "I would bell them all."
"And it wouldn't be a bad idea," said Close, with a laugh.
By David's invitation the Wisconsin boys slept that night on the bedstead in the tent. They breakfasted early and then set out to round up their horses, which they accomplished in a couple of hours after a long tramp through the woods. Having loaded the animals, they bade David good-by and rode away toward the trail, presently shouting back, "Better call the dog; he's following the horses."