Gradually the glorious red tints died out of the western heavens; and with their passing came the troops of skirmishing shadows that told of the night.
Dick had meanwhile kept on the alert, not only to discover any lurking foe, but at the same time find a suitable spot where they could make their camp.
When he located a place that seemed to promise them fair shelter, and at the same time a feeding spot for their horses, he drew rein.
“We might as well pull up here, and settle down for the night, Roger,” he announced.
So they proceeded to stake the horses out, making their own arrangements so as to be very close to the feeding animals. The grass was sweet and plentiful, and, as the horses were hungry, they started cropping it without delay, glad to be relieved from their burdens, for the day had been a hot one.
“Perhaps,” said Roger, as they started to arrange things so as to have at least some sort of comfort, “it might be wise not to undo most of our packages, since we don’t mean to make a fire.”
“I was just going to say that myself,” the other rejoined. “Then, if we wanted to get away from here in a hurry, we’d be in condition to do so.”
“Then you still have a little idea we were seen by that lone brave, Dick; and that he may bring the rest of the hunting party down on us to-night?”
“It seems to strike me that way; and so we must keep a better watch even than usual to-night,” Dick observed, as he accepted some of the food his comrade took out of a package, and started to munch at it with that contentment the boys of those days learned to exhibit.
“We’ve been so lucky all these weeks, while following after the expedition, not to meet a single enemy face to face—unless you’d count that half-breed. If he was with François Lascelles we must have given them the slip nicely, don’t you think, Dick?”