"Well, I reckon we're all ready," observed Old Billee on a certain morning a few days after the first failure. "How about it, Bud?"
"All set," answered the ranch owner's son, for he had recovered from the gas he had inhaled and was quite fit again. "Let's go!" he cried.
The cavalcade moved forward, and when within about the same distance as before from the defile, the horses were led aside, the guard posted and the men again advanced up the gorge.
"Don't make any more noise than you can help," warned Bud, as one of the men rattled some of the loose stones.
"Oh, I think they know we're coming," said Dick.
"You do? How?"
"Well, naturally they have scouts posted. We'd do the same if we were in their position. They know we're coming, all right."
"Perhaps so," Bud admitted. "Well, everybody have his mask ready to slip on as soon as gas is smelled."
"What if they use a kind we can't smell until it's too late?" asked
Dick.
"Well, that's a chance we have to take," said Bud with a shrug of his shoulders.