“But they got almost everything else,” said Blake, as he looked about the temporary camp.
“They made for the grub, that’s sure,” spoke Joe. “I guess they were hungry.”
“But why they didn’t try harder to make off with the horses is what I can’t understand,” spoke Blake, as he continued to make an examination of the damage done. “I thought that was what they were after.”
“They were,” declared Hank; “but I guess they realized that taking horses is a pretty serious crime out here. They knew that all sorts of efforts would be made to recapture ’em, and by men who would not be as gentle with ’em as Uncle Sam’s soldiers. So I guess they decided to pass up the horses and only take some grub. That isn’t so serious, especially as the poor beggars are probably well-nigh starving, having been away from their regular rations so long. Well, it might be worse, I suppose. They will hardly come back to-night, and I guess we can get a little rest when I picket these animals out again. We got off pretty lucky, I take it, for there was sure a big bunch of them.”
“Lucky?” cried Blake. “I should say not. Look here!” and he pointed to the upset pile of boxes and bales, only a few of which were now left. “We have had the worst kind of bad luck!”
“How’s that?” demanded Joe, hurrying to the side of his chum. The fire was brighter now. “What did they take?”
“Our reels of exposed film, for one thing!” cried Blake.
“What! Not our prize Indian pictures?” gasped Joe.
“That’s what they did, Joe! Every one of those films we worked so hard to get is gone!”
“But what could the Indians want with them?” asked Joe. “They don’t know how to develop ’em, and, even if they did, they would be of no use. They can’t know what they are, but if the least ray of light gets into the boxes it means that the films are ruined!”