rubbed his cold and clammy muzzle on Dick's face,
giving the lad the impression that a scaly rattlesnake had tried to
crawl over him.

"Well, I'll be jiggered! Blackie!" gasped Dick, when he saw that it
was his horse. "Whew, but you gave me a fright!"

"You oughter look fust an' yell afterward," commented Billee as he
turned over to go to sleep again.

The boys laughed and again wrapped up in their blankets, after Dick had
secured his horse with the others. A dim light was now showing in the
east, indicating that morning was not far off. But it was cold and
cheerless, even with the fire, for it was not a very large blaze, and
Dick was glad to follow the example of his brother and cousin and roll
up for a final doze before daylight.

"Well, now we'll see what happens," commented Nort, as they were
preparing a simple breakfast, over the replenished campfire. "Think we
might catch 'em to-day, Billee?"

"It all depends," was the old cow puncher's answer. "We can't spend
too much time chasin' these scamps. There's work to be done at the
ranch. Hang that perfesser, anyhow!"

"Why?" asked Bud.

"Well, if he hadn't crossed the trail last night when we fust started
out, we'd a' had them as we was after by now!" declared Billee.

"Maybe and maybe not," remarked Bud. "It wasn't the professor's fault,
anyhow. He just got lost."

"Well, he picked a mighty inconvenient time to do it in," snapped Old
Billee, who was always a bit raspy before breakfast.

The sun soon shone warm and glorious, a little too glorious in fact,
for it was very hot after 9 o'clock when the trail was again taken up.
Daylight did not make the "signs" any more plain--in fact, there was
absolutely no trail to follow. All they could do was to keep on,
making inquiries here and there at different ranches about suspicious
characters.

"We haven't seen any signs of the professor's party," remarked Nort,
when they stopped at noon for a "snack."

"No, I fancy they're off in the other direction," remarked Bud. "They
will probably be at the ranch when we get back."

"Speaking of getting back, I don't see much use in keeping on,"
commented Billee. "Those rascals have given us the slip."

"Guess we might as well hit the back trail," agreed Bud. "Dad will
have to tell Hank Fowler about this, and Hank can rustle up a posse and
see what he can do."

Hank Fowler was the local sheriff and on him, and such men as he might
swear in as deputies,