"What, take three iron shod horses and me and Shaw not know it?" snorted Jennings. "It would be easier to have 'em run off with one of us."
"Just the same, I'm going down to see if they're all right," declared the recruit, moving away.
"Hold on. We'll go with you," whispered Shaw. "Being nervous, as they will, you may scare 'em—and we'd be in a pretty fix fifty miles from the Fort and no ponies."
And, placing the youngster between them, the veteran scouts crept cautiously down to the plateau, some fifteen yards from the boulder, where they had left the horses to feed on the sweet grass.
Already, the heavy darkness in the east was giving way to the grey-greens of dawn, enabling the three scouts to make out the outlines of the rocks and trees above them.
But, as they turned a crag whence they could get a glimpse of the plateau, they stopped in amazement.
Not a horse was to be seen!
"So they couldn't steal our ponies with you and Shaw 'round?" grinned Scotty.
"Keep your tongue in your head," growled Jennings. "That cry probably frightened 'em, and they've gone down the trail. Come on. It won't be hard to track them."
Again were the scouts destined to be surprised, however.