“Glad of it,” ventured Billie, wondering if he
could manage to dispose of that last piece of meat in the pan, for it always distressed him to throw anything away; “because I just hate black nights. You never know what might lie close to you, out here on the big open, when it’s like the inside of your hat. But give me the jolly moonlight. I just love the nights when you can look out miles away, and tell when a measly old wolf is creeping up.”
At that the others laughed.
“Seems like you hadn’t learned your lesson yet, Billie,” remarked Adrian. “Just wait till the brightest night you ever saw comes along, and find out how far away you can say for sure whether it’s a stump you see, or a cow lying down. Moonlight is all good enough close at hand, but this thing of telling your best friend two hundred yards away is silly. It can’t be done, can it, Donald?”
“Well, I should say not,” agreed the other.
“You surprise me, fellows!” declared Billie; “and the first chance I get I’m going to put it to the test. But mebbe not tonight, because I’m that weary after my hot ride I feel like I could lie right down now, and never open my eyes till sun-up.”
“That wouldn’t surprise us any, Billie,” chuckled Donald; “fact is, it’s a regular habit with you, seems like. I’ve rolled you over as many as seven times, and only got a few grunts out of you to pay me for it. A dash of cold water in your face is often the only way we have of waking you up.”
“Yes, and every time I’m dreaming that I’ve fallen overboard in Niagara River, and find myself floating down the terrible falls!” declared the fat boy, “so please let up on that game, won’t you? Try sticking a pin in me if you want. P’raps then I’ll go and dream I’m bleeding to death; but even that’s better than to drop over Niagara Falls.”
They sat there as night fell, chatting, and occupying themselves in various ways. Adrian had his log to write up, and no doubt would do full justice to the wild ride that the fat chum had been forced to take that afternoon, all on account of the mean trick played by the village boy. Donald was writing a letter to his home folks, which he hoped to mail on the next day somewhere; while Billie wandered out several times to where Jupiter was tethered, wishing to put more soothing balm on the abrasion caused by the bunch of sand spurs weighed down under the saddle.
About the time the battered moon appeared above the level horizon in the east all of them were thinking of making their beds ready, being more or less tired after the long day’s journey.