“Shall we wake Billie up?” asked Adrian.
“He’d never forgive us if we didn’t,” the other replied. “You’d think the sound would get him to stirring, but Billie could sleep through the biggest earthquake that ever happened; and if you did knock him up he’d want to know who was shaking the floor with dancing. But I’ll get him on his feet, while you fetch our ponies in.”
So Donald stepped over to where the fat chum
was cuddled up in his blanket just like an Esquimau. After shaking him several times without any result, save a grunt, Donald shouted in his ear:
“Wake up, Billie! earthquake! cattle stampede, and we’re right in the way!”
“Goodness gracious! is that so?” remarked Billie, as he sat up, and began to dig his knuckles into his eyes; then, hearing the roar of the approaching hoofs he became suddenly greatly excited, as he realized that it was after all no joke his comrades were trying to play upon him.
“Oh! will they grind us to powder, Donald? Can’t we even climb a tree, and get out of reach of their hoofs? Hurry up, and say something before it’s too late! Think what a terrible muss there’ll be if ever they trample on me, and do please tell a fellow what to do!”
“Don’t worry, Billie; they won’t come into the timber at all. Fetch your gun, and come along to join Adrian near by. We want to see what it all stands for as the herd sweeps past. Be quick now, or you’ll lost a sight worth looking at, I tell you!”
Billie hurried at hearing this. Besides, he did not exactly fancy being left behind when his chum departed.
“How about the ponies, Donald; won’t they get in trouble?” he managed to call out, as he trailed along in the wake of the other.