“Let’s hope that the chance turns up, then,” remarked Dick, cheerfully. “And about this same pemmican, you know that the Indians live pretty much all winter on it. Besides, when a brave is sent a hundred or two miles across country, to carry a message to the chief of another tribe, all he takes along with him is a little dried meat in his ditty bag, that he munches once in a while, drinking at the springs he runs across on the way. I believe an Indian runner could keep on from the Mississippi to the ocean just that way, carrying all he needed to eat in a package not larger than my head.”
They kept pushing on, making as good time as the nature of the rough ground permitted; while the sun dropped out of sight, and dusk began to gather around them.
Roger was really beginning to despair, and feared that they would have to pass a fireless night, one keeping constantly on guard while the other slept, so that the horses might be protected, when a sudden low exclamation from his companion thrilled him.
“What is it, Dick?” he asked, nervously fingering his gun, which he kept in his hand as he rode along; “did you see any one skulking in the shadows?”
“Oh! no, not that, Roger,” replied his cousin, cheerfully; “but, unless I miss my guess, we’ve come to a fine place to make our camp; and, if things turn out as well as I expect, there ought to be a chance for a small fire, enough of a blaze to cook some of your meat by.”
“Good! You make me feel happy again, Dick!” exclaimed the other, eagerly; “but show me where you’ve made this discovery.”
“Look over in that direction, and you can see the rocks piled up,” Dick went on. “It seems to me that we ought to find a hiding-place among them, where we can pitch our little camp. Of course it means that we must come down, and pull all the grass the horses will need, and perhaps take them to water, too; but that is nothing to worry over, if only we pass the night without an attack.”
It turned out as Dick predicted, for they did find a splendid nook in the midst of the rocks, where they could be safe from observation. And Roger soon discovered the very spot for the little fire.
Both the young pioneers were soon as busy as beavers, for there was much to be done. The horses had been watered before coming up among the rocks, so that would not have to be attended to again. Dick went down, and started to pull grass, which he carried in armfuls up to where the horses had been secured; and once the faithful beasts started to contentedly munch at their supper, there was no reason why they should give any more trouble.
Meanwhile Roger had started the fire. It was only an apology for one, and offered little cheer; but on this occasion the boys were not thinking of sitting around a blaze, toasting their feet, and watching the sparks fly upward, to “tell all creation of their presence,” as Roger expressed it. All they wanted was sufficient heat to cook the meat and make a pot of tea, after which the fire would be allowed to go out.