ang over. P'raps I
kin coax ye to give up that crazy ijee 'bout Thunder Mounting."

And when they had settled down under the trees, with the westering sun
sinking toward the horizon where, in the far distance, Frank pointed
out to his chum the towering peak toward which they were bound, old
Hank did try to influence his employer's son into giving up his
intended trip.

It was useless, however. Frank had made up his mind, and obstacles
only served to cause him to shut his teeth more firmly together and
stick to his resolution. And so they spent the night very comfortably,
under the twinkling stars.

"Tell dad not to worry about us at all, Hank," Frank said to the
veteran, on the following morning, as they were bidding him good-bye.
"We'll turn up all right in the course of a few days. And perhaps, who
knows, we might be able to tell you all about the queer noise that
shakes the earth every little while around the big uplift. So-long,
Hank!"

The old cowman sat in his saddle, and looked after the two boys as
their horses went prancing away, each of the riders turning once or
twice to wave a jolly farewell, with uplifted hats.

"As fine a pair o' happy-go-lucky boys as ever drawed breath," Hank
muttered, as his eyes followed their vanishing forms beyond the
mesquite thicket. "But I sure feel bad 'bout them goin' into that 'ere
Thunder Mounting territory. I hopes Mr. Haywood'll start out with a
bunch o' cowmen to round 'em up. But he thinks that Frank kin hold his
own, no matter what comes along. If he don't show signs o' bein'
worried, I'm goin' to see if the overseer, Bart Heminway, won't take
the chances of sendin' several of us out to hunt for strays; an' it'll
be funny now, how them mavericks all run toward Thunder Mounting."

Chuckling, as if the new idea that had appealed to him gave him
considerable satisfaction, the old cow-puncher stirred his little
bronco into action, and was soon galloping away. But, more than a few
times, he might have been observed to turn in his saddle and cast a
look of curiosity, bordering on apprehension, toward the dimly-seen
mountain that arose far away on the Southwestern horizon.

For to Hank Coombs that peak stood for everything in the line of
mystery and unexplained doings.

CHAPTER IV

A NOTE OF WARNING AT THE SPRING HOLE

"Pull up, Bob; I sure glimpsed something moving, out there in the sage
brush!"

Both horses came to an immediate stop as the bridle