"Save it—I think I can find water for you. Guess the ponies could use a little too. Let's see now—'pears to me there should be a water hole right over here to the left. You boys stay here while I go look. Be back in a jiffy."
Leaving the four on the trail, Yellin' Kid rode swiftly away to the left. Water holes are few and far between in that section, and a cowboy who rides a country a great deal knows the location of every single one. Often that knowledge means the saving of a human life.
The Kid had been gone ten minutes when Bud said:
"Thought Yellin' Kid said he'd be right back? I guess he's all right though. He knows the country about here pretty well, doesn't he, Billee?"
"Like the palm of his hand, Bud—like the palm of his hand! But maybe his pony broke his leg in a prairie dog hole—seein' as how it's a new pony, he might do that. Tell you—I'll just have a look. You fellows wait here for me."
The three boys watched Billee ride off in the direction the Kid had taken. It was a deserted, lonesome place.
Fifteen minutes later Billee rode back—alone.
"The Kid show up yet?" he asked as he pulled up.
"No—couldn't you find him?" Dick asked, a look of anxiety on his face.
"Nope! Neither hide nor hair! Something sure must have happened. The Kid isn't one to go wanderin' off and get lost. I'm afraid he's in trouble, boys!"