As it was, they were headed in the direction of the Missouri River, and it would not be at all out of their way, or interfere with their business.
Woofer was sitting with the boys around the camp fire, regaling them with stories of cow-punching in various parts of the country, and making of himself a most agreeable companion, and Ted, watching him carefully, could see nothing guilty or suspicious about him.
But that didn't prevent him from keeping his eyes open.
Gradually the camp settled down for the night.
Stella went to bed after she had peeped into the tent occupied by Singing Bird, and satisfied herself that she was sleeping quietly and safely.
One by one the boys rolled themselves in their blankets beside the fire, and dropped into deep slumber.
Woofer had said good night among the first, saying that he was very tired, and would "crawl into the wool," as he expressed it.
Only the night guard was awake, as they rode around and around the sleeping herd, their voices breaking out softly into song as a restless steer arose and sniffed the air and began to walk around.
Ted was lying in his blankets, breathing softly and deeply, evidently sound asleep.
Overhead the stars sparkled brightly, casting a radiance upon the earth that made things several feet distant perfectly observable.