The Moose turned slowly under the rein, and carried Doug cleverly into an open park. Here Doug studied the brilliant heavens.
"We'll just move south, old Moose," he announced, "climbing uphill all the time, till we run into something."
The Moose worked steadily enough now, but it seemed a long time to Douglas before he saw the faint glare of a fire through the trees. Charleton and Scott looked up grinning as he rode into the circle of light. Wide bare patches showed on Doug's chaps. One sleeve of his flannel shirt was hanging by a thread. His face was bleeding from many scratches, but he grinned amicably as he slid wearily from the saddle.
"Hello, Doug! Is your horse broke yet?" asked Charleton.
"Some," replied Douglas.
"We thought we heard you a while back!" said Scott. "Sounded as if a grizzly had been bitten by a hydrophobia skunk."
"He ain't as nervous as he was," grinned Douglas. "Anything to drink?"
Charleton indicated the coffee-pot and said, "It's only a short time to dawn. Better get what sleep you can!"
Douglas nodded, drank a tin cup of coffee, and then unsaddled the Moose.
Scott, rolled in his blanket, watched him with a twisted grin.
"Some horse to take on a trip like this," he said. "A half-broke mule couldn't be worse. Funny if Doug don't gum the whole game for us, Charleton."