It had been a rather warm day, and several times they had eyed the heavens, as if half expecting that the clouds would gather and send down a deluge of rain. Up to now they had been singularly fortunate in having escaped many storms, and it chanced that those that did come had found the young explorers in some snug shelter. To be caught out on the open might not turn out to be such a pleasant thing for them.
Although they had now been on the march for weeks, neither of the boys seemed to feel in any way anxious for their journey to end, save that Roger’s impatience occasionally leaped beyond bounds; for he kept wondering whether they would find Jasper Williams after all, and their mission prove a success.
There were so many new sights to look upon as they went on, that it seemed as though they were continually expecting novel things. Around the settlement it had been pretty much all woods, so that this wonderful prairie was a source of never-ending delight to both lads, filling them with something of the same awe that one who is accustomed to the interior feels when first he sets eyes on the great ocean.
“I hope, though, we can make the river by to-morrow,” Roger was saying when the sun seemed to be well down in the sky, and it looked certain that they were to make camp again in the open.
“Chances are that it lies away over yonder, where you can just see a fringe of something that must be trees,” Dick observed, pointing as he spoke.
“And miles away at that, so there’s no use in trying for it to-day,” Roger said.
He was feeling a little provoked, for, after begging his companion to hold up half an hour for him, when he thought he saw a chance to stalk a small band of antelopes that afternoon, Roger had spent considerable time and energy in creeping through the grass, and getting behind a motte of timber that grew around some little slough, only to see the timid animals flying away when he thought he must be close enough to use his bow.
He had taken revenge, however, in shooting several prairie chickens, although, having once “made up his mouth” for venison, this was a poor substitute, good eating though the birds had proved on the other occasion.
“It lies to the west of us,” Dick chanced to say, as they looked toward the low fringe along the horizon which, as he had said, must be trees, and evidently bordering the river.
Later, Dick had occasion to congratulate himself that he had taken notice of the exact quarter where those trees seemed to lie, as he saw them just before sunset.