"That's above us," breathed Jennings, leaping to his feet and feeling his way cautiously to the edge of the boulder, whence he strove to penetrate the inky darkness that enveloped crags and trees alike.
As their companion jumped to his feet, Shaw and Scotty did likewise, following him as he crept along the rock.
"What do you make of it?" queried the veteran of his fellow.
"Somebody's discovered us and is either trying to get away or to warn others," asserted Jennings, with positiveness.
"But how could any one see us in the shadow of the boulder?" demanded Scotty, resenting the indifference of his companions to his presence.
"Men who can travel these hills in the night, don't have to see a man to know he's around, they can smell him," returned Shaw.
"Say, you fellows might as well cut this jollying out right now," flashed the youngster. "I'm not going to stand for it any longer—either you'll treat me decently or I'll mix it up with fists or guns, whichever you like. Smell a man, rats!"
"Now don't get het up, rookie," rejoined Jennings. "Shaw's right. A good woodsman or an Injun can scent a man as easy as you can a grizzly. Besides, if they didn't scent us, they could the horses."
"Queer we ain't heard a whimper from the cayuses," exclaimed Shaw, as his comrade's mention of their mounts recalled their existence. "My old Bonehead usually don't like these night surprises."
"You don't suppose whoever it was has stolen 'em?" suggested Scotty, to whose excited brain nothing seemed impossible.