“Chunky has fallen asleep and is snoring,” answered Broswick, who was riding beside the machine.
“I reckon it’s time we camped for the night,” put in Nestor. “Here’s a good stopping place. We’ll make an early start in the morning.”
The machine was halted, blankets were gotten out and a small camp-fire started. Tired and weary, the adventurers prepared for bed. Broswick, who carried his blankets on his horse, said he would stand the first watch, and Nestor agreed to take the second, so the boys could get a full night’s rest.
“I’ll do my share,” said Professor Snodgrass, anxious to be of service.
But Nestor said there was no need for the naturalist to sit up. To tell the truth, the miner was afraid that if the professor was left on guard he would forget what he was doing and wander off in search of specimens.
Silence soon settled over the little camp in the mountains. The three boys were slumbering peacefully, as was the professor. Broswick sat by the fire, keeping watch, and Nestor was rolled up in his blanket.
Suddenly, from down the slope up which the auto had come, sounded the blast of a trumpet.
“What’s that?” cried Nestor, springing to his feet, for he was a light sleeper. He came over to where the hunter sat.
“Sounded like Gabriel’s trumpet,” replied the hunter, quietly.
“No; it was an auto horn,” spoke Nestor. “A machine is coming up the trail. We must watch out. It may be Noddy Nixon and his gang.”