The rest of the fourth guard had already gone out, Chunky meeting the returning members of the third coming in.
"Better hurry up, kid," they chuckled. "The cows'll sleep themselves out of sight before you get there, if you don't get a move on."
"Where are they?" asked the boy.
"Keep a-going and if you're lucky you'll run plumb into them," was the jeering answer as the sleepy cowmen spurred their ponies on toward camp, muttering their disapproval of taking along a bunch of boys on a cattle drive.
In a few moments they, too, had turned their ponies adrift and had thrown themselves down beside their companions, pulling their blankets well about them, for the night had grown chill.
Out on the plains the fourth guard were drowsily crooning the lullaby about the bull that "came down the hillside, long time ago."
It seemed as if scarcely a minute had passed since the boys turned in before they were awakened by the strident tones of the foreman.
"Roll out! Roll out!" he roared, bringing the sleepy cowpunchers grumbling to their feet.
Almost before the echoes of his voice had died away, a shrill voice piped up from the tail end of the chuck wagon.
"Grub pi-i-i-le! Grub pi-i-i-le!"