"What ye doin' in thar, you two?"
"What's the matter with you?" retorted the quick-witted Chub. "We're tired out and want to sleep. Move over a little, Matt," he added, as though speaking to his chum, "you're takin' up more'n your half of the wall."
The blurred form straightened again, and once more Chub began to breathe. The sounds on the wall had ceased, and Chub began to count the seconds and mentally to check off the minutes.
Five minutes—ten—fifteen. Chub wasn't at all sure he was reckoning the time properly, but he began wondering what had become of his chum. The opposite side of the notch was the slope of the hill itself, and only child's play for Matt to get down. If he had got down, where was he?
Chub reckoned up fifteen minutes more. His nerves were in rags and he was imagining all sorts of wild things, when a booming shout came from the distance.
"Good-by, Jacks! You thought you had us, but you've got another guess coming!"
Bisbee leaped to his feet with a yell. Jacks broke off his snores suddenly and lifted himself up.
"What's the matter?" he demanded.
"Them kids hev got away!" cried the startled Bisbee.
A clatter of hoofs, rapidly receding in the direction of the pack-trail, could be heard.