“Day after to-morrow,” said the Ranger.
Joe pricked up his ears. It sounded as if Mills meant it.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” Lucy asked.
“Promise for Bob, a threat for Mrs. Jones, I guess,” said the Ranger, rising from the ground, and adding, “Who’s ready for bed?”
“Better ask who isn’t,” somebody laughed.
Joe went as far out on the rocky spit into the lake as he could get; he could see the dying camp-fire gleaming red back under the trees; and all around him, over the dim, starlit water, rose the majestic mountains, great walls of shadow rearing up half-way to the top of the sky. It was a still, solemn scene, and he felt very small as he crouched by the lake and cleaned his teeth in water that was almost as cold as ice.
When he got back to camp every one was abed, and he crawled into the tent with Mills and wrapped himself up in his blankets, with only his poncho for a mattress, and almost before he had got his body fitted into the unevennesses of the ground he was fast asleep.
CHAPTER XI—To Gunsight Lake, and Joe Falls Into a Crevasse on Blackfeet Glacier
The Ranger was the first up in the morning. He gave Joe a shake by the shoulder, and Joe half opened one sleepy eye and said, “Aw, ma, it ain’t time to get up yet.”
Then he heard Mills chuckle, and he realized where he was. He looked at his watch, and saw that it was almost six. Outside, it was broad daylight, and the sun was flooding up the lake.