“No, nor any one else, lad. He said that no fire was to be lit to-night, and that we must all make shift with a bite of what we left in camp this morning.”
“Oh!” groaned Ned, so dismally that Chris was not too weary to forget his own disappointment and laugh and chuckle with delight at his companion’s discomfiture.
But that was not the only disappointment, for as soon as the ponies had been unsaddled and freed from their bits, to be turned loose for a roll and graze, Griggs, who had been to examine the provender, came back to announce that there was none to examine.
“What!” cried the boys in a breath. “Why, we left plenty for a cold supper.”
“Yes,” said Griggs, “but the jackals, or wolves, or whatever they were, haven’t.”
“You don’t mean to say—” began Chris, who felt far from mirthful now.
“Yes, I do; they’ve been here and cleared out everything.”
“But no fire, no turkey, no tea,” cried Ned. “What are we to do?”
“Just as the mustangs have, my lad; have a good long drink, a roll, and then—”
“We can’t graze,” cried Chris.