“Young ones is,” explained the plainsman, “but keep away from the elderly jack-rabbits.”
Suddenly Billy, who had looked from his task for the fiftieth time to remark that it was hot, noticed quite a cloud of dust swirling toward the adventurers across the prairie.
“Gee, here comes a whirlwind!” he exclaimed, pointing. The others looked, too.
“Maybe it’s a cyclone,” suggested Harry.
Old Witherbee placed his hand over his eyebrows and peered long and earnestly at the rapidly approaching cloud of yellow dust.
“Whatever is it?” asked Frank.
“Somethin’ that I’m afeard is goin’ ter make it mighty uncomfortable for us,” exclaimed Witherbee, with a tone of anxiety in his voice.
“Mighty uncomfortable, how? Will it blow the auto away?” asked Billy.
“No, youngster, but it may blow us up; that cloud yonder is a bunch of skylarking cowboys, and they’re coming right for us.”
“Will they kill us?” asked Billy anxiously.