“Same here,” added Donald; “because, the way things look we’ll prove too few to do the right thing about watching these corrals. If all the punchers could be depended on it’d be different, you see.”
“Yes, you’re right there, Donald,” Adrian said; “for it would give us five more men. As it is now we are not only short that number, but they are apt to try and join the rustler bunch when they come along.”
“Too bad,” the Arizona ranch boy remarked. “If you’d only known how things lay up here you could have picked up a dozen reliable punchers, and brought the same along with us. But let’s hope that before there’s any real damage done that sheriff’ll show up, and prove it to be of the right calibre to handle the situation.”
“Amen to that, son!” added Uncle Fred, heartily.
“I wonder where Billie can be?” Adrian remarked some time later, as he suddenly remembered that he had not seen anything of the stout chum
since they left the mess hall, with Billie sending along his platter for a fourth helping of stew.
“Foundered, I reckon,” chuckled Donald; “after those three big helps, the nerve of him asking Charley Moo for more. But the Chink seemed to feel that it was a compliment on his cooking to have any one gobble that way; and he was grinning all over as he hurried off to get a fresh supply. I believe he’d even hand over his own ration, because he has taken such a great fancy for our chum.”
“Well, Billie is a great one for making friends wherever he goes!” remarked Adrian, warmly.
“Listen, what was that sound like a hiss just then? You don’t think for a minute it could be any sort of snake, do you, Ad?”
“There it goes again; and as sure as you live I believe some one’s trying to attract our attention back here in the gloom away from the fires. Looks like our chum Billie, too; yes, that’s who it is, Donald.”