Lanky thereupon blew out the lamp, and the three boys found themselves in vague darkness. The late rising moon was above the horizon, but the western side of the ranch house was wrapped in the shadows.
"Now, let's keep mum and watch," whispered Frank. "He'll think the last comer has turned in, and the coast will soon be clear. Pretty near time for the boys to shut up shop over there in the radio den."
"Getting ready to wind-up when I left," murmured Paul. "Lige has a rule, you know, that every puncher must hit the hay by eleven, so's to be up with the sunrise."
Silence fell upon them.
Minutes crept on as the boys crouched by the window, eager for the first glimpse of the strange little unknown man whose former mysterious actions had so engrossed their curiosity.
Now and then one of them would stir, or it might be heave a heavy sigh, as though this pent-up enthusiasm was making serious inroads on his patience. The cramped position in which they maintained their vigil added to the discomfort of the situation.
For some little time the boys heard the voices and subdued laughter of the punchers, as some of them came out, to wander over in the direction of the horse corral, in order to have a last look, so as to make sure all was right in that quarter.
Even that died out by degrees, and then absolute silence descended upon the vicinity of the ranch buildings. Up to the coming of the guests from the East there had been a pack of mongrel dogs connected with Rockspur Ranch; but Frank and his pals had seen neither hide nor hair of any for some time.
The time began to drag terribly, and Frank himself feared none of them would be able to stand it much longer. But presently Lanky pinched his arm and breathed into his ear the words:
"Saw something move just then—might have been a slinking coyote, but I reckon it had only two legs, Frank!"