They were soon on the way, Dave on one side of Shadow to support him and Roger on the other. Phil and Ben ran ahead, and by the time the youth who had taken the tumble arrived, more wood had been placed on the campfire, and it was blazing up merrily, sending out considerable warmth.
“That’s an adventure we didn’t count on,” remarked Phil, while Shadow was drying out his clothing in front of the blaze.
“Well, something is bound to happen when we get together,” answered Roger. “It always does.”
“After this we had better keep our eyes peeled for all sorts of danger,” said Dave. “We don’t want anything bad to happen to our visitors during their stay.”
Half an hour was spent in the camp, and by that time Shadow’s wet clothing had dried out sufficiently to be worn again. The former story-teller of Oak Hall had been allowed to tell several of his best yarns, and now seemed to be in as good a humor as ever. His hands and his shins had been scraped by his fall, but to these little hurts he gave scant attention.
“I came out on this trip with Phil just to see what rough life was like,” he announced. “If something hadn’t happened to me I surely would have been disappointed.”
“You’ll see enough of rough life before you get home again, Shadow,” said Phil. “Just you wait till you get to Star Ranch. I’ll have some of the cowboys there put you through a regular course of sprouts.”
Just before the party got ready to break camp, Ben wandered off to get several more pictures. He went farther than he had originally intended, the various scenes before his eyes proving decidedly fascinating. He took a view of some rocks, and then gazed for a long time across to a hill some distance away. Then he returned quickly to where he had left the others.
“Say, fellows, I’ve discovered some game!” he cried.
“Game?” queried Dave. “What kind?”