"That's right," agreed Nort in a low voice, though there was no need for this, as the rocket-senders must have been several miles away.
Billee Dobb awakened at the slightest whisper near his bunk, and in a few moments Dick, Yellin' Kid and the other cowboys, of whom there were half a dozen at the "fort," as it was called, were awake. It did not take them long to hustle into their clothes, and then, draped in ponchos, for it was still raining hard, they stood out in the darkness, waiting for what might happen next.
"Couldn't have been a rocket," murmured Old Billee, as the rain pelted down. "It's too wet for that."
"Must have been some Greasers around a camp fire—though how in the name of a maverick they got one to burn I don't see," observed Yellin' Kid, making his voice only a little lower than usual. "Must 'a' been that one of 'em chucked a brand up in the air."
"It wasn't like a fire brand," declared Nort.
"It was just like a regular rocket," added Bud.
Old Billee was about to say something, probably to the effect that it was a false alarm, and that they'd all do better to be back in their warm bunks when the blackness of the night was suddenly dispelled off to the south by a sliver of flame, followed by a trail of red sparks.
"There she goes again!" cried Bud.
"The same as before," added Nort.
"That's a rocket right enough," admitted Billee.