Instantly a cloud seemed to fall over the faces of all the boys, as they looked instinctively at Mr. Hawke. The latter found the sudden change in affairs too much for his humorous vein, and with a hearty laugh he dispelled the gloom as quickly as it had gathered.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said, finally regaining composure.
"Give Fly a good punch, Dunk," exclaimed Jerry. "You're next to him."
"There ain't no use in you givin' us all cold feet like that, Fly," admonished Dunk, by way of complying with Jerry's request.
"Oh, it just seems too good to be true," defended Fly. "I think I must be moving in a pipe dream."
"Leave it to Mr. Hawke," assured Fred.
"By the way," said the aviator genially; "Hawke is good enough for me. Cut out the Mister."
"All right, Hawke," returned Fly, with a strong accent on the name.
The path turned to the left at that point, and took them through a rather scant growth of pine trees. The boys welcomed this meager shade, which was the first cool spot they had reached since leaving the Fort. They stopped under the trees for a few minutes, and turned aside from the main road while a large freight wagon, loaded several feet above its top and covered with canvas, passed, drawn by six strong horses. It was followed by a smaller two-horse wagon. Both of the drivers were Greasers.
"What you got on there," yelled Dunk mischievously.