They swung their mounts into a trot. Both Star and Flash were well schooled, and could trot as well as any Eastern pony. Nearly all Western steeds will go right from a walk into a gallop, since there are few times when a trot is demanded of them. The Western stirrup is usually too long to allow “posting,” which is the peculiar rising and falling of the rider to co-ordinate with the pony’s motion.
At the foot of the hill was a small clump of trees, the only shade visible for miles around. Teddy headed for this.
“Any special reason?” Roy inquired.
“For going this way? Well, it’s no longer, and that yell—if it was a yell—came from this direction. We might take a look—see?”
“Check! We shall investigate the ghostly sound.”
The boys were intent on this new experience now. The fall into the river was forgotten for the moment. Roy scarcely realized that his head was injured, yet was forcibly reminded of the fact when he took off his hat to rub an itchy place.
“Man’s yell?” Roy asked after an interval. They were approaching the trees.
“I thought so. Not shrill enough for a woman or a girl. And it couldn’t have been a cat.” Teddy was referring to a mountain lion, not a house cat.
Coming into the shadow of the trees, Teddy halted again, as a man does who is uncertain of things around him. The woods were about a quarter of a mile deep, tapering off at one end like a triangle.
“Going to ride through?” Roy asked.