“Oh! I reckon it isn’t quite so bad as that,” replied Frank. “Dad says we will draw back some and get a little sleep. Around about an hour before daybreak we get back here, and then we can all listen for the signal of the Moqui.”
“What will that tell us, Frank?”
“That the trap is ready to be sprung. In other words, Bob, that the rustlers are snug in the bunk-house there. When we learn that, Scotty and his boys will creep up, close the door, and fasten it, ditto the windows; and then we’ll be ready to get the stock moving with the peep of day.”
“Say, won’t they be a hot bunch, though, when they find out what’s happened to ’em?” Bob remarked.
“That goes without saying,” his chum answered. “Perhaps they may try to break out. In that case there’s going to be a rough-house time. But Mendoza is more cunning than bold, dad says; and he believes that when the rustler knows how he’s in a fix, he’ll keep quiet, and let us run off the stock, rather than risk his neck trying to defend it.”
“You said we might get a little sleep, didn’t you, Frank?”
“Yes, and by the way you keep on yawning, I can see you need it, all right. And as I hear some of the boys making a move, it looks like they meant to follow out the idea, and get further away from the camp.”
“But tell me why they want to go back, when this is as good cover as we can find anywhere?” Bob asked.
“One man will stay here to keep tabs on what is happening in camp,” Frank answered, as if he had it all figured out in his own mind, and did not hesitate about posting his companion. “But it’s safer for the others to sleep far enough away, so if there happens to be a big snorer among ’em, he won’t tell the rustlers that we’ve come to town to pay them a visit.”
“Oh! I see now; and I’m glad I’m not one of that kind, Frank.”