Frank followed leisurely, and on getting outside found the other with his eyes glued to the small end of the fine glasses, which had come in so useful dozens of times when the Bird boys were whirring through the upper currents, and looking for a place below to land.
“Well, have you made him out?” asked Frank, coming up behind the other.
Andy took the glasses down as he replied:
“That’s as easy as falling off a log, Frank; but I’m wondering what under the sun brings Alkali Joe back home again.”
“Alkali Joe, you say, Andy; why, he went with the bunch this morning!”
“That’s just what he did,” the other went on to say, a little excitedly, “but all the same, that’s Joe, as big as life. And if you notice, Frank, you’ll think it queer that he doesn’t act like they all do when in the saddle, making his pony go like the wind, and whirling his hat around his head.”
“That’s so, Andy, he doesn’t,” remarked Frank, when he had clapped the glasses to his eyes; “fact is, Joe acts like he might be going to a funeral. I never saw a cow puncher come jogging along like that, taking things as easy as he can.”
“Gee! I hope he isn’t bringing us any bad news!” exclaimed Andy.
“Well, now,” Frank remarked, “I never thought of that; but what sort of bad news could Uncle Jethro be sending back; and even that wouldn’t be apt to keep down the bubbling spirits of an average cowboy.”
“Then what do you think can be the matter?” went on the other.