"Easy now, Buckskin; what's making you act this way? I don't see any enemy. If you've given a false alarm, it'll sure be for the first time!"
"Frank!" ventured the other lad, just then.
"What is it, Bob?"
"I thought I heard a low groan!" continued the Kentucky boy, in awed tones.
"You did?" ejaculated Frank, quickly. "Have you any idea where it came from?"
As if to make it quite unnecessary for Bob to reply, there came just then a low but distinct grunt or groan. Frank could not tell which.
"Over this way, Frank; he's in this direction!" exclaimed the impulsive Bob, as he started to move off.
"Wait a minute," said the practical and cautious Frank. "You never know what sort of game you're up against, around here. Some of these horse thieves can toll a fellow away from his camp to beat the band, while a mate gets off with the saddle band. I've been warned against that very sort of play. Go slow, Bob, and keep a finger on your trigger, I tell you."
They advanced slowly, looking all around in the dim moonlight. Twice more the strange sounds arose. Frank jumped to the conclusion that it was, after all, no attempt to draw them farther and farther away from the tent; because the groans seemed to come from the one spot, instead of gradually moving off in a tempting manner.