“They may come crawling up like snakes in the grass,” he said; “and again, p’raps they’ll go galloping past like the Indians used to do, down your way, when they had a caravan stalled—hiding behind their horses, and banging away with their guns to beat the band.”
“Well,” said Donald, firmly, “I hate to hurt a poor horse the worst kind, as you know right well, Adrian; but if they go to trying that sort of dodge, there’s only one way to break such a game up, and that’s to drop their mounts so fast they’ll soon get sick of it.”
“And when one of us does that, perhaps the other might get a chance to send his compliments to the rustler when he goes pitching over the head of his mount?” suggested Adrian, showing that he had fallen in with his chum’s idea.
“Good enough; and we’ll try that same if we get the opening. Now, let’s watch out, so that no crawler gets in close enough to start cutting the wire corral open. In some places it wouldn’t take only a few minutes at most to slash things wide; and by the way the cattle keep moving around, chances are
they’d be pouring out through the gap before you could think five times.”
Again silence fell upon the two chums. Not the slightest sound came but they listened carefully to place it, under the impression that it might have a significance far beyond its apparent nature.
“There, did you see that?” whispered Donald, suddenly.
“That light flashed up three different times, sure it did,” replied the other.
“A signal different from any of the others, too,” added Donald.
“And p’raps it means for them to come along; they’ll be apt to whoop it up pretty lively too, mark my words; because they’ll expect their pals in our camp to take notice, so they can carry out their part of the slick game. What did I tell you, Donald?”