Gray, threatening-looking clouds, which had stretched all morning on the horizon, were now advancing, and gusts of chilling wind buffeted the riders with unpleasant force.
After about a half hour's steady march, Sam Randall, some distance to the right of the main body, halted, and his shrill whistle wafted over soon brought the echoing hoof-beats to a stop.
"Hello, what's the matter?" called Bob.
"Look—look! See anything ahead?"
Sam's excited tones instantly forced attention upon the distance.
"Goodness gracious! As I live—a couple o' horsemen!" cried Tim, with a whoop.
"Where—where?" demanded Tom, earnestly.
"Don't you see 'em—right by that group of evergreens? There—they moved!"
"Cracky! I believe you're right."
Tom seemed perfectly dumfounded.