“How long now to midnight?” queried Donald.
“You seem to have got your mind made up they’ve picked out that time to begin work,” remarked the other, taking out his watch again.
“Because I know the breed so well; perhaps that’s why,” the prairie boy went on to say, positively; “they had to set some time, you see, so that the other bunch in the ranch house would know when to get busy; and somehow midnight seems to be the favored hour. Pretty close to that, ain’t it, Adrian?”
“I should say yes, because it’ll be here in ten minutes more, Donald.”
“Well, I’m glad of that, because, to tell the truth I feel a heap like Uncle Fred said he did; and the sooner we know the worst, the better. By the way, have you seen Billie lately?”
“That reminds me I haven’t; and I wonder what he’s doing with himself,” Adrian went on to say; for events had chased after each other so quickly
that for the time being he had forgotten all about the stout chum.
“We might take a walk around and see if he’s crawled into one of the bunks over at the men’s quarters; because you know, Billie’s failing next to stuffing at dinner time is trying to ‘make up for lost sleep,’ as he calls it, though where he ever dropped any beats me. But as it’s so near the time we look for trouble we’d better let things go as they are. If there’s any shooting he’s bound to be waked up by Charley Moo, who, you remember, is in there guarding the wounded fellow.”
“That’s right,” replied Adrian, who often found this thing of looking after the fat chum rather wearisome, and fancied Billie ought to be left more frequently to take care of himself; since of late he had shown such marked improvement that he must be considering it quite unnecessary to have one of his chums forever holding out a helping hand, when they came to a muddle of any sort.
“Everything seems quiet over at the house where you left your prisoners,” Donald next remarked, as he turned his head in that direction.