"Can you see any sign of them from where you stand?" asked the Texan.
Pond looked carefully off in the direction the other pointed, and replied:
"No. They do not even raise dust."
"Then we are safe here from observation. They go too slow to make dust, and they're moving over grass any way. It will be dark before they reach their camping-ground. But to make the next, which is full fifty miles away, they'll have to start earlier. Ah! what does that mean?"
"What startles you?"
"Nothing startles me, but a couple of men from that party have dashed out from the line at a gallop, and they ride this way."
"Heaven! I hope Bill–Wild Bill–is not one of them!" cried Pond, greatly excited. "Are you sure they are coming here?"
"Riding this way does not assume that they're coming here!" said the Texan, coolly. "They may have flanked off to look for some fresh meat. Yes, that is it," he added. "They bear up to the north now; they want to go ahead of the party so as to kill something fresh for supper. Captain Jack kept sober when all the rest were drinking last night, and I'll wager he is one of the hunters, and most likely Sam Chichester is the other. We're safe from observation, Mr. Pond, so don't get nervous. We'll not see Wild Bill to-day."
Pond smiled, but there was a tremor about him that showed he was easy to take alarm and hard to get over it.
The Texan came down from the tree and busied himself in gathering some dry fuel–small sticks which would make a quick hot blaze and little or no smoke. Then he cut off some long thin flakes of antelope flesh from the saddle hanging on the tree, and half cooked, half dried it.