CHAPTER XXIV—TIT FOR TAT
Ten minutes later the two chums entered the forest and crept toward the light. That it was a campfire neither doubted; there could be no question about that.
“What you going to do with these lariats?” Dig whispered, for Chet had insisted that each carry the rope which hung at his cantle.
“Never mind! hush!” urged Chet, with more vigour than politeness.
There might be very good reason for a silent approach to the camp. Whether it was the camp of the thieves who had troubled them the previous night or not, the campers might be men whom the boys would not care to meet.
“We’ll spy on them first,” Chet had declared, and now they proceeded to carry out his intention.
The timber was big and open. It was really fair grazing ground, for there were few shrubs. Before they had penetrated far into the wood the boys descried two ponies feeding. The animals gave them no attention, so, plainly, they were used to white men. Indian ponies would have snorted and stamped at the approach of any white visitors.
The campfire blazed brightly; but there was no smell of cooking. It was evident that the campers had finished supper. Chet led the way around to the windward and they got the smell of tobacco smoke quite strongly.
“They’re sitting there smoking; but they are not talking much,” whispered Chet. “We know there are at least two, for both those horses are saddle horses. I bet they are the fellows we are after.”
“Whew! What’ll we do now we’ve found them, Chet?” whispered his chum, in return.