le let them hear his awful voice."

"Then this thing has been going on forever, has it?" asked Bob.

"The Navajos say so; though even they admit that, of late, it's got a
brand new kink to the growl," Frank answered. "They believe it's sure
unlucky for any brave to be caught near the mountain after dark, and
especially when Manitou scolds. You see, that accounts for the hurry
of that hunting party to climb out before sunset."

"Yes," Bob went on. "And now I understand what you said about the
Indians never hunting near Thunder Mountain. Perhaps they believe all
the game that hides along the slopes, and in the deep gullies, belongs
to the Great Spirit, and that he'll punish any warrior bold enough to
try and get a line on it. But see here, Frank, do white men--cowboys,
prospectors, and the like--believe this mountain is haunted?"

"Heaps of 'em do, and that's a fact," replied the other, chuckling.
"I've heard some of our cowpunchers talking about it more'n a few
times; and you remember how old Hank took it when we told him what we
had in mind?"

"They're a superstitious lot, as a whole, I take it," Bob ventured.
"Now, as for me, I never could believe in ghosts and all that sort of
thing. If there ever came a time when something faced me that I
couldn't understand, I just set my teeth together and vowed I'd never
rest easy till I had found out what it meant."

"Same here, Bob; and that's why I just jumped at the chance to beat Peg
out in his game. The funny part about it is why I never thought of
this racket before. But perhaps that was because I didn't have a chum
to stand back of me."

"None of the boys on the ranch would go with you, then?" asked Bob.

"I should say not! Even old Hank would balk at that, and he's never
been afraid of thing that flies, runs or crawls. It was old Hank who
taught me all I know about range life. He showed me how to shoot,
throw a rope, and do heaps of other things a prairie boy ought to know.
Hank thinks lots of me, and honest now, Bob, that gruff old fellow
would willingly lay down his life for me."

"I reckon he would," assented the other, readily enough.

"But Hank's a rank believer In the Injun story of the mountain, and
would never come here of his own accord; but to keep an eye on me, and,
stand between me and danger, he'd just crawl down the crater of a live
volcano."

"Seems like the show might be over for tonight," Bob suggested.

"The row has stopped, sure