glorious stars and
though, as a matter of precaution the boys insisted on standing guard,
it was not necessary. Aside from the distant howling of coyotes, not a
sound disturbed their slumbers.

They traveled on the next day, stopping to cook their dinner over an
open fire and the boys declared they had even beaten Ma Merkel at the
cooking game. Though Billee Dobb was heard to complain that the beans,
which Dick passed to him, somehow lacked the home ranch flavor.

They were now on their third day of travel, after two uneventful nights
spent in the open, and, so far, nothing had happened. Truth to tell,
Dick and Nort were beginning to get a bit discouraged. They had heard
much about the great and glorious west before coming to live at Diamond
X and the things that happened shortly after they arrived were quite
"up to sample," as Dick used to remark. And in the succeeding seasons
they passed with Bud, riding fence, helping at the round-ups and at the
cutting out of cattle for shipment, enough had taken place to satisfy
any reasonable lad.

So it was not without reason that Dick and Nort expected something
startling to happen after they had started on this expedition.
Especially after what Billee Dobb had told them concerning Death Valley.

"But we haven't had any trouble since that one load was spilled,"
complained Dick as he and his brother and cousin rode along together.

"Are you looking for trouble?" chuckled Bud.

"Well, I'd like enough to keep from getting lonesome," was the reply.
"You take it now----"

Dick's remarks were suddenly interrupted for, at that moment, his pony
felt its left forefoot slipping into the burrow of a prairie dog. And
in shifting and struggling to keep from going down the pony neatly
shook Dick from the saddle and deposited him in a heap alongside the
trail.

"Ride 'im, cowboy!" shouted Yellin' Kid.

"Say, this is no rodeo!" chuckled Bud.

"Are you hurt?" Nort anxiously inquired, spurring to his brother, who
was scrambling to his feet. The pony, after running on a little way,
came to a stop for the reins slipped down over its head and this was
sufficient signal to cause a halt.

"Hurt? Shucks, no!" cried Dick. "'Tisn't the first time I've had a
fall." Nor was it. Suddenly leaving the saddle was something a cowboy
must count on any time of the night or day. And there are ways of
falling off gracefully, and without damage, just as there are in
submitting to a football