searching eyes.

"You are not fooling us, Hippy?" she demanded.

"Could I be so base as to deceive my dearest friends?" answered
Lieutenant Wingate in an aggrieved tone. "How can you doubt me?"

"Girls, if there be no objection, we will start at daybreak. Washington,
do you know where the Thompson farm is?" questioned Grace.

"Ah reckon Ah does," drawled Washington.

"How far is it from here?"

"'Bout two skips an' er jump, Ah reckons."

"He thinks we are a flock of fleas," grumbled Hippy under his breath.

"I will get the map. We shall learn nothing from Washington," said
Grace, rising. "Washington, pack up everything we shall not need
to-night. We wish to make an early start in the morning."

"Yes'm."

Fetching the map, Grace and Elfreda pored over it and finally located
the farm in question. The map was a sectional map issued by the
government and gave every trail and landmark in the territory that it
covered.

"I should say Thompson's farm is about twenty miles from here. It
appears to be quite a bit out of our way, but that doesn't matter in the
circumstances. Yes, I think we can make it. All right, Hippy."

"What about to-night?" asked Miss Briggs.

"The same arrangement as last night," replied Grace in a low tone. "We
will take turns. Take your blanket out. He needs a rest to-night,"
nodding towards Hippy Wingate.

Neither Grace nor Elfreda felt like sitting up another night. Hippy
insisted that he must take his watch on guard, but they declined his
offer, telling him that they could not trust him to keep awake in view
of what he had been through and the sleep he had lost. So the two girls
took up their vigil again, Grace lying down near her companion, Elfreda
taking the first watch of the night.

It was not long after the camp had settled down to sleep that Elfreda
put a quick pressure on the arm of her companion. Grace was awake
instantly.

"What is it?" she whispered, instinctively sensing that the pressure on
her arm was a warning pressure.

"I thought I heard something yonder by Washington's tent," whispered
Miss Briggs.

"Yes, something is moving about there," agreed Grace, after a few
minutes of attentive listening. "It may be Washington himself. Don't
shoot. Remember, too, that the ponies are in that direction, so if we
have to fire we must fire high."

"I had thought of that. I--"

Miss Briggs was interrupted by the most unearthly yell that any member
of the Overland party had