Strong nerved as all three of the riders were, it appeared to make a strange impression on them.
"What in the name of Kit Carson wuz that?" demanded Red Bill drawing rein.
"Dunno. It sounded like someone havin' fun with that ther cheerful little song of yourn," said the black-mustached man.
"That's what it did. I'd like to find the varmint. I'd make some fun fer him."
The man scowled savagely. His nerves had been unpleasantly shaken by the wild, unearthly cries.
"It didn't sound human," he said at length; "tell you what, let's jes' look aroun' and see if we kin find any trace of who done it."
Buck Bellew said nothing but he grinned to himself. Plainly something amused him hugely.
"All right;" he said, "we'll look."
They rode about among the desert dips and gullies for some time, but they could discover no trace of any agency that could have produced the weird cries. Both Red Bill and the black-mustached man were plainly nonplussed.
"This beats all," opined Summers. "I don't even see a track any place."