"Get Dave to rub a drop o' his varnish on it, an' see if it still looks the same," grinned Jack, with a wink. "That enlargin' affair o' yours, if you please, Bobby!"
"We'll give these broncs a rest, eh?" said Bob, dismounting.
He tethered his horse to a convenient sapling, and raised his field-glass.
"Yes, fellows," he announced, calmly, "it's a mountain."
"Whoop—hooray!" cried Dick, enthusiastically.
"Why, anybody could easily see that with only half an eye," laughed Jack. "Whoa—whoa! What's gettin' into this critter?"
All the bronchos were acting strangely, sniffing the air and beginning to prance wildly about. Jack Conroy's was snorting, showing every evidence of fear, and all his rider's efforts failed to quiet him.
"Whoa, w-h-o-a!" yelled Jack desperately tugging at the reins. "W-h-o-a!"
The sorrel whirled around in wide circles, showing the whites of his eyes; and each moment every broncho in the group seemed to grow more frightened.
"Thunderation!" cried Bob, springing toward his own mount, and seizing the bridle. "Wonder what's the matter?"