“I’m not so very sure of this trail, Phil,” was the slow answer. “You see, this is a new bit of territory to Roger and me.” He turned to the senator’s son. “What do you think of it?”
“I hope we are on the right way,” was the ready reply. “I think inside of another half hour we’ll strike the regular trail between the camp and the railroad station.”
Soon the shadows had reached the summit of the mountain behind them, and then the darkness of night came on rapidly. As the trail was a most uncertain one, they had to proceed slower and slower, for fear of running into some danger which might lurk ahead.
“It’s a pity one of us didn’t bring a flashlight along,” said Ben. “Then we could make sure of what sort of footing was ahead.” They were passing over some loose rocks at the time, and these occasionally made the horses slip and slide. Once Phil’s animal went to his knees, and made a great splurge and clatter regaining his footing.
“This is certainly some lonely spot,” was Roger’s comment, after they had gone forward another quarter of a mile. “There doesn’t seem to be a cabin or a camp of any sort in sight.”
“Listen! What’s that?” cried Shadow suddenly, and came close up beside Dave.
Far away in the woods they heard a peculiar sound. They listened intently for several minutes, and then the sound was repeated.
“I don’t think it’s anything more than a hoot owl or something of that sort,” said our hero.
“Just what I think,” answered Roger. “I’ve heard that cry several times since I came to Montana. It’s a bird of some sort.”
They had been going downward, but now the little trail they were following led up over more loose rocks, and then into a thicket of underbrush. Beyond this they came to the edge of the mountain forest. Here Roger called a halt.