“Better lie down in your blanket, Billie,” remarked Adrian, taking pity on the stout chum; because he knew
Billie’s failings, and sleeping was one of them.
“Yes,” added Donald, who would rather see the other snuggled in the folds of his blanket than sitting there with his hands embracing his knees, thinking up a host of questions between yawns; “we’ll do all that’s necessary to keep things going; and if we have any need of your help, why we promise to call on you.”
“Well,” said Billie, “in that case p’raps I might take a few winks of sleep, because that gallop did kind of knock me up. But remember, I depend on your word of honor to give me a punch if I’m needed.”
After that they heard nothing further from Billie, save an occasional heavy sigh resembling a snore, whenever he chanced to lie on his back. He was dead to the world in three minutes after lying down, with his warm blanket wrapped around his ample proportions, much after the manner in which he had seen Indians do at the quaint Zuni cliff dwellers’ village in Arizona, visited by the three boys before coming up to Wyoming.
About half an hour after this Adrian thought they would do well to examine their prisoners, in order to make sure that their bonds were holding out securely. They did not profess to have had a great deal of experience in fastening up fellows, and during the time that had elapsed possibly one
of the men might have succeeded in gnawing his bonds partly through, or working them loose.
So Donald and Adrian took the flashlight torch, and went over each of the prisoners’ bonds. They found them just as secure as when first triced up, which was to the credit of the young captors, to be sure.
The man whom they had decided must be the leader of the quartette, was staring hard at Adrian all the time the boys hovered over their prisoners. Evidently he must have begun to entertain certain suspicions with regard to the other.
“Say, hain’t I seen ye before now, younker?” he finally asked, pointedly.