Frank had crawled out of his blanket, and stood erect.
"What's on?" asked his camp-mate, presently, noticing that he was holding up his hand, after wetting his finger, a method much in vogue when one wished to learn the direction of the passing air currents.
"Southeast; and blowing strong a bit ago up there on the mountain, I reckon," Frank remarked. "You notice we happen to be sheltered more or less down here, when she comes out of that same quarter?"
"Meaning the wind," Bob remarked. "Yes, you're right, Frank. But what has that got to do with the measly old grumble of the mountain, tell me?"
"Huh! I don't know that it's going to have anything to do with it," came the answer; "but we want to know every little point as we go on. And Bob, just remember that the wind was coming out of the Southeast; and a clear sky overhead!"
"But look here, Frank, you've heard your dad talk about this Thunder Mountain business, I take it?"
"Well, now, I reckon I have, heaps of times; but then you know, he isn't much on bothering about things that don't concern him. Thinks he's got his hands full, looking after the stock, keeping tabs on the doings of those rascally Mexican rustlers, that have been running off batches of cattle every little while; and fighting that big syndicate of Eastern capitalists, headed by the millionaire, Mr. Grant, Peg's father, that wants to throw all the Southwestern ranches into a close trust."
"But what I wanted to remark is this: you must have heard him give an opinion about this thunder sound?" Bob persisted in saying.
"Oh! he thinks the same as several gentlemen did who came out here a few years ago on some business. They declared that once, hundreds of years ago, perhaps, old Thunder Mountain must have been a volcano; and that it still grumbles now and then, as the fires away down in the earth begin to kick up some of their old monkeyshines."
"Yes, I heard one man say that," laughed Bob. "He declared that there's going to be the biggest rumpus some fine day, when the fires inside get to going out of bounds. Then the whole cap of the mountain will go flying into a million pieces; and good-bye to any unlucky cow-puncher caught napping near this place."