The wind swept almost icy through the little valley before morning dawned. As the eastern sky grew pale Frank opened his eyes and sat up.
A moment later a shout from his lips aroused the others.
Merry was staring at a familiar figure in a dirty red blanket. In their very midst old Joe lay stretched, and apparently he had been sleeping as soundly as any of them. Nor were his slumbers broken by Merry's shout, which astounded Frank beyond measure, for never before had he known the old fellow to sleep like that. Always when he had stirred he had found the beady eyes of the redskin upon him.
"Behold!" said Jack Ready. "Lo, the noble red man is again within our midst. But how came it thus?"
"Waal, may I be honswizzled!" grunted Gallup.
Frank flung aside his blanket.
"Something is the matter with him!" he said, in a tone that indicated anxiety. "If there wasn't, he'd not sleep this way. I wonder what it is. Is he dead?"
But when the red blanket was pulled down it was found that Joe lay with a quart bottle clasped to his heart in a loving embrace. The bottle was fully two-thirds empty.
"That explains it!" said Merry, in deep disgust. "The old dog is drunk as a lord! That's how we happen to have the pleasure of finding him asleep. I'll give any man fifty dollars who will catch him asleep when he is perfectly sober."