The grizzled features of the old cow-puncher relaxed.
“Ye’re positive wonders, lads,” he said. “Thar ain’t nobody on the hull range with more grit’n you’ve got; an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’. Shake!”
They shook.
“But that don’t mean ter say, ye understand, that I believe in them thar arioplanes; ’cause——”
“It isn’t natural to fly, and it wasn’t ever intended,” grinned Cranny. “Now, fellows, let’s get over to your camp and talk about our plans. We can leave the plane till morning, eh, Bob? What’s that, Jed?”
“I were sayin’ as how them balloon fellers is sure ketched up thar on the old Eagle,” answered Jed. “That ledge ain’t j’ined as it had orter be; I reckon as how the job weren’t ever finished.”
“Ye’re sure right, pard,” assented Pete. “I know’d a hunter onct—he was after some mountain goats—he loses his footin’ an’ slips down onto that spur. An’, d’ye know, the old Eagle keeps him up thar three hull days afore his pards comes acrost him.”
“Have any trouble in getting out of his fix?” asked Tom, eagerly.
“None as I ever hears ’bout. That bald-headed old feller is a joker; he says: ‘If yer friends is good ’nuff to come arter ye an’ shy ye a rope, ye gits off easy; but ye can’t do nothin’ much by yer lonesome.’ Understan’? Inter the saddle, boys; an’ right after daybreak we starts off, an’ the old Eagle will git fooled ag’in.”
“Oh ho; isn’t it great the way things have turned out, Bob?” murmured Dave.