The coffee had a strangely unfamiliar taste; nor were the potatoes any better, being burnt almost black on one side and nearly raw on the other. He was, therefore, obliged to depend almost entirely on the canned goods and crackers.
The ill success which attended his efforts served to relieve Larry’s mind, for a short time, from his greater troubles. They returned, however, with added force when the tin dishes were cleared away. The light was fast fading; the hills had become dark and somber. Sounds of chirping insects, or an occasional cry from some far-away bird, increased the sense of utter desolation. How heartily glad he would have been to see the Ramblers about the fire. Even Tom Clifton’s oddities and annoying ways appeared to him in a different light at this particular moment.
While the landscape was in the full glare of sunlight no feelings of possible danger had worried him. But now his mind began to be occupied with thoughts of smugglers and cattle rustlers—men whom Teddy Banes denounced as rough and dangerous characters. And the two mysterious alarms in the night certainly proved that the half-breed had good reasons for his warning.
“Oh, I do wish I had stuck to the crowd!” exclaimed Larry, attempting to master a nervous feeling which now and again came upon him. “If I can’t get across this river somewhere it means a jaunt back to Fool’s Castle. And—and—suppose I can’t find the place?—or the fellows have gone?”
He abruptly paused. Such an eventuality quite staggered him. His stock of provisions would last only a few days. He possessed no knowledge of woodcraft, or of the ability to keep oneself alive, in case of emergency, by such edibles as might be found in the woods and fields. True, Larry carried a rifle; but he suspected, not without good reason, that any animal would have to be either very large or very close to stand in danger.
“Hang it all, I’m in a pretty mess!” he said, disgustedly.
It was the inaction—the impossibility of making any move for hours—which drove the usually indolent Larry to pacing up and down at a furious rate. As the dusk gathered around him he kept closer and closer to the fire, then, oppressed by the darkness, took a seat close beside it.
“Oh, how delightful life in the open is!” he thought. “To hear Tom Clifton chirp about it a chap might think it was one of the most glorious things in the world. I’m going to dream about this experience for a month.”
At last, hoping he might be able to forget his troubles in sleep, Larry spread a blanket on the ground and lay down. The long journey had fatigued him; and this, together with the softly-stirring air, brought on a condition which soon resulted in deep, heavy slumber.
Some hours afterward Larry Burnham suddenly awoke. The fire was practically out. A very faint light came from the rising moon. Vaguely uneasy, he raised himself to an upright position.