“I believe you, Frank; but we pulled through, all right. More than once since then, when things have looked ticklish, I think of that time, and make up my mind the sky isn’t so dark as it looks. But it sure is getting near night down in this hole!”
“Are you watching Scotty, Bob?” demanded Frank.
“I saw him turn aside just then,” replied the other. “Looked like he was interested a little in that narrow crack in the wall; but I see he’s passed on, and is waving to the bunch to come after him; so I reckon there wasn’t anything doing there.”
“Huh! don’t be too sure of that,” said Frank.
“Why, what do you mean?” demanded his chum, eagerly.
“Because I saw Scotty give my dad a quick sign that stood for something,” Frank went on to say.
“About that little hole in the wall, you mean?” asked Bob.
“It was while he was down on his hands and knees there that he made it, so I’ve got a hunch it was about that same hole. But don’t seem to pay any particular attention as we ride past.”
“Then you think there might be somebody watching us; is that it?” asked Bob.
“Why not, if these rustlers are half as smart as they say, don’t you think they would be apt to have a vidette posted on the side of the mountain?” and Frank declined to turn his head in the slightest as they rode past the cleft, that hardly seemed wide enough for a fat steer to pass into.