In half an hour the house was dark, and every one was asleep.
The moon which had been shining brightly during the early part of the night had become obscured by a heavy bank of snow clouds, which had been driven over the mountains by a north wind, and it had grown much darker outside.
In his sleep Ted seemed to hear the well-known voice of Sultan, whinnying shrilly. It was a dream, and Ted tossed uneasily. But again and again he heard Sultan's voice. It had a note of alarm in it, and Ted knew that Sultan seldom gave an alarm of this sort unless something serious was the matter. Ted's dream was of Indians, and the call of Sultan was very natural, for the little black stallion hated Indians, and whenever one came within smelling distance of him he grew uneasy and fretful, and always gave voice to his fear.
The dream had such a disquieting influence on Ted that it woke him, and he sat up in bed grinning to himself in the dark to find that, after all, it was only a dream, and that he was safe in bed.
But what was that?
He was awake now, and he distinctly heard Sultan. Then he had heard his pet give a warning, even in his dream.
Leaping from bed, Ted groped around the room, getting into his clothes, without lighting the lamp.
Grasping his rifle from the corner, and buckling on his belt and holster, he left the room.
As he passed Clay's room he entered and shook the sleeping Kentuckian, who was on the floor with a bound. Ted told him of the continued voicing of an alarm by Sultan, and Clay hurriedly dressed.
They passed into the living room, and Ted went to the windows on one side, while Clay went to the other side.