"I heard you far enough," returned Bean sharply.
"Bring the lantern."
Dakota dismounted. Bean was a long time with the lantern, striking several matches in vain.
"No ile," he growled, with a curse.
"Never mind. I have matches."
Dakota tried the padlock, unlocked it, and entered the stable. Stamford heard a match scratch and saw a momentary flare through the cracks where the mud had dropped out.
"That shore beats me," muttered Dakota, as they came out. "They're all there. Let's take a look at the corrals."
They went off around the stable, and Stamford, creeping out, slunk up to the depressions in the slope that had become in one night such good friends to him, and returned to the house. He discovered that he had left his screen out, and a few hardy mosquitoes that defied the chilly night were buzzing within. Imp's snuffling grunt came from beneath the door and he opened it noisily and let the little terrier in. As he did so he thought he heard a gentle creak of Cockney's door. He smiled into the darkness and crept into bed, the dog curled up at his feet.