A sound had aroused him. It came again—a creak, as though made by wagon wheels. Then, following this, the faint thud of horses’ hoofs was clearly perceptible.
With a gasp of surprise, Larry looked eagerly about.
Over the top of the bushes, scarcely more than a darkish blur against the landscape, he detected an object moving slowly along. And in advance, and following, were several horsemen.
“Great Scott!” he muttered, breathlessly.
At first a thrill of joy ran through him. Here was relief—men, undoubtedly, who could put him on the right track. But the impulse to make his presence known suddenly disappeared.
Who were they?
Wasn’t there something queer about a wagon and a silent body of horsemen passing across the prairie at such an hour?
Cautiously, Larry dragged himself nearer the bushes. He now began to feel thankful for having chosen such a secluded retreat, and that the smouldering remains of his fire were not bright enough to betray his presence. The horse, too, was lying down.
The words of Teddy Banes rang in his ears. He strained his eyes to make out the form of the vehicle. Its blurred outlines, now almost abreast the bushes, were sufficiently strong to enable him to see its canvas-covered sides and top.
“Judgin’ by the speed they’re makin’ it must be pretty heavily loaded,” thought Larry.