"Yes."
"Lie perfectly still, Chunky. The little bushes in front of us will screen us, providing we don't move about. Indians have quick eyes, though they do look as if they were half asleep."
"They're getting off their horses, Tad. What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
Tad peered through the bushes, noting every move that the redskins made. At first he thought they had discovered him and were about to surround the rock and take him prisoner. But he soon saw that such was not their intention. Tethering their ponies, the Indians cast their blankets on the ground, after having first picked out a suitable place.
"They're making camp," whispered Tad.
One after another of the savages took out his pipe, and soon the odor from burning tobacco was wafted to the nostrils of the hidden Pony Rider Boys.
"Guess they're going to get some dinner," decided Stacy, observing that the strangers were gathering brush.
This was the case. The ponies had been staked where they could browse on the green leaves, and now their masters were about to satisfy their own appetites.
Tad groaned.