"I was only thinking," Frank continued, "whether we ought to try and get word back to the ranch about our discovery. If they knew Mendoza and his rustlers were hiding somewhere about this place they'd comb the whole mountain range so they could run him to earth. He's been the pest of the border too long now, and something's just got to be done to chase him back where he belongs, south of the Rio Grande."
"But you don't want to go back just yet, do you, Frank?" asked Bob, uneasily.
"I'm ready to do what you say, though I'd like to stay," came the prompt answer.
"Then I say, let's stick it out," declared Bob, with animation. "It might turn out to be a false alarm, after all; and we'd feel pretty cheap to bring all the boys along, and then not be able to show 'em any game. No, I say it'll be time enough to go after 'em, when we make dead sure!"
"That settles it, then," remarked Frank, with a little laugh, as though pleased to learn that his saddle chum looked at the matter in such a sensible light.
This time, after they had lain down in their blankets, there was no further alarm. Frank, from long habits of early rising on the range, awakened just as the first faint streaks of dawn began to show in the eastern horizon.
It required but a touch to arouse Bob; and saddling up, with packs in place, the boys soon left the scene of their night bivouac, heading toward the heavy growth of timber directly at the foot of the mountain.
The early morning mists concealed their movements until they had entered among the timber; when they left they were safe from any suspicious eye, should the bold Mexican rustler have posted any watcher upon the side of the mountain.
Again did the saddle boys build a small fire in a hole, over which they proceeded to cook their breakfast; while the horses cropped the grass near by, secured by the ever useful lariats, or riatas.
"There's where this leads into a big gully," remarked Bob, later on, pointing as he spoke to where the ground became broken.