the brighter stars were still struggling for existence
with the approaching day, Joe was up and buckling on
the saddle-bags, while he shouted to his unwilling companions
to rise.
"If it depended on you," he said, "the Pawnees
wouldn't be long afore they got our scalps. Jump, ye
dogs, an' lend a hand, will ye?"
A snore from Dick and a deep sigh from Henri was
the answer to this pathetic appeal. It so happened,
however, that Henri's pipe, in falling from his lips, had