"Don't know what ails me," grumbled Lanky who was stretched out in his beloved checkered blanket close to Frank. "I keep turning from one side to the other, and just can't get asleep, tired as I am. Guess mom would say I'd got the 'fidgets,' while dad'd likely tell me I was too greedy with that campfire-cooked venison. Shucks! something's going to happen, I reckon."
"It sure will, if you don't quit that mumbling," chuckled Frank, "for I can see Zander popping his head up and looking this way, as if he had half a mind to make you go off and herd by yourself."
"You said it, Frank," came from Paul, on the other side of Lanky. "I'm no knocker, but he keeps digging his elbows into my ribs every time he turns over. Please quit it, Lanky, and settle down."
Somehow or other, the uneasy one did manage to control his restlessness, and he soon lay sprawled out on his back and breathing hard, which was a pretty good indication that he had passed over into dream-land.
Frank did not have the slightest idea how long he was lost to the world after Lanky quieted down. It may have been several hours, for there was nothing to tell him what the time was when he was aroused by a frightful crash of thunder that seemed to make the solid rocks under him tremble with the vibration.
Then came a dash of rain that almost instantly deluged every one, so that clothes and blankets were soaking wet.
When a flash of lightning lit up the canyon as by bright sunlight, Lanky was seen threshing around in the endeavor to get free from his blanket that had crept up about his ears as he slept. At the same came his triumphant shout:
"What did I tell you? Something's happened all right, hasn't it?"