They looked toward the other tents where, doubtless, the professors and their helpers were sleeping. Then Nort and Dick caught the snorting of the cattle in the improvised corral—Diamond X cattle unlawfully taken.
"Wish we could let 'em out—stampede 'em," whispered Nort.
"Don't think of it!" cautioned Dick to his more impulsive brother. "If we can get our horses away without raising a racket we'll be mighty lucky."
The boys had, earlier in the evening, noted where Blaze and Blackie were tethered, and now they paused long enough to get their bearings, and then made off in the direction of their ponies. They dared not stop to look for their saddles or bridles. If they got away at all they must ride bareback, and with only the loop of a lariat around the necks of their steeds.
Fortunately Blackie and Blaze were gentle ponies—not too gentle—but, in comparison with a bucking bronco, they were as carriage horses to a racer. The boys knew they could manage their mounts once they were on their backs.
Step by step, moving cautiously, hardly daring to breathe, Dick and
Nort made their way to the ponies.
"Take it easy at first," cautioned Nort to Dick, as he slid his hand along the lariat, intending to follow it up until he reached the peg, which he could pull out.
"Which way you going to ride?" asked Dick.
"North," was the answer, for Nort had sensed that point of the compass. "After we get some distance away we can figure out which trail we ought to take."
"Anything to get away," murmured Dick.