Larry groaned.
“Gee whiz, Bob, I call this pretty hard work,” he groaned. “Yet I s’pose Tom Clifton’s thinkin’ he’s having the grandest time of his life.”
“You bet I am,” sang out Tom, who had overheard. “There’s nothing like having a good horse under you and plenty of space to gallop in, eh, Bob? Besides, there’s always a chance for adventure.”
“And if we really don’t run into a lot I’ll be surprised,” said Dave Brandon.
“So will I,” laughed Sam Randall.
“Most likely there are some ranch-houses not so very far from here,” said Tom; “and if so it means we’re likely to see big bunches of longhorns roaming over the prairie before very long. Then, perhaps, a smuggler or two may bob up to help make things interesting.”
Tom glared sternly toward the half-breed, who seemed to be totally oblivious of their presence.
This remark, however, had the effect of bringing his head sharply around, to reveal a curious light in his black, snappy eyes.
“Ah, you make fun of Teddy Banes,” he growled. “But you see! How long you been here?—few days, eh? Me lived here always; yet you know more already.”
“How could you expect it otherwise?” grinned Larry Burnham. “I sort o’ think it’s Tom Clifton’s privilege to know more’n anybody else.”