"Feels good to have a horse between your legs again," said Pete, still in a low, cautious voice, for they were by no means out of danger as yet.
"Yes," whispered Jack, "I've heard it said that a cow-puncher without his pony is only half a man."
"I guess maybe you're right," agreed Pete, urging forward his little animal by a dig in the sides.
"Say, Pete," whispered Jack suddenly, as they rode slowly forward under the star-sprinkled heavens, "I do wish we could go back and make a strike for the freedom of the others. It seems kind of mean for us to be safe and sound here, and leaving them back in the lion's mouth, so to speak."
"Don't worry about that, Jack. By getting over on to good Yankee soil we are doing more to help them than we could in any other way. If we turned back now we might spoil everything, and as to being safe and sound—— Hark!"
Both reined in their ponies and listened intently. From far behind was borne to their ears the distant noise of shouts and cries. Standing on the elevation to which they had now attained, the sounds came through the clear night air with great distinctness.
"They're making a fine hullaballoo," commented Jack. "Do you think they've found Cummings and the other?"
"Don't know. Guess not, though. The sounds seem to be coming from more to the eastward than where we left them; but say, Jack, don't you hear anything else but hollering?"
"Why, yes, I do seem to hear a kind of queer sound; what is it?"
"The very worst sound we could get wind of, Jack—it's bloodhounds."