“I am,” responded Larry, rising to his feet. “Isn’t it time to skip?”
“Yes! Fool’s Castle is a long way from here,” said Bob. “We shan’t reach it even to-night, eh, Thunderbolt?”
“To-morrow,” answered the young Indian.
“But for stern duty,” remarked Dave, “I’d refuse to leave the delightful shade of these hills.”
At Thunderbolt’s direction several young braves departed for the horses, soon leading them up to the teepee. They had been well fed and cared for, so were in a mettlesome mood. A mass of tribesmen gathered around as Wandering Bear bade them a stately adieu.
“White man come again,” he invited. “Always welcome.”
“How you do,” said Sulking Wolf, shaking hands with each. And, as they sprang into the saddle and started off, they heard him utter the same words as a parting salutation.
Thunderbolt, mounted on a brown-patched nag, led the advance.
Soon after passing the break in the rugged hills they reached a narrow stream which rippled and bubbled and sang its way over a rocky bed.
“We go across,” announced the Indian.