Jack Dudley was awakened by the sound of laughter. Opening his eyes, he stared about him confusedly, unable for some moments to recall his situation. Fred Greenwood stood in front of him, shaking so much with mirth that he could scarcely stand.

"O faithful sentinel!" he said; "how well thou hast kept thy trust!"

"I don't see anything to laugh at," replied Jack, rising to his feet and rubbing his eyes; "you would have done the same if you had been in my place."

"Perhaps I should, and then the laugh would have been on me. But we have cause to be thankful that, while no harm has come to us, we have had a good night's rest. I suppose you dropped into slumber almost as soon as I did."

"No, I didn't," persisted the elder; "I stood here a long time, but made the mistake of sitting down for a few minutes, just before it was time to call you. I ought to have known better, and shall never do the like again."

"Well, we have been fortunate and it has taught us both a lesson. Let's attend to our toilet and have breakfast."

They laved their faces and hands in the cold stream of clear water running near them, combed their hair, stretched and limbered arms and legs by a series of gymnastics to which they were accustomed, and then, returning to the mouth of the cavern, found, by raking over the ashes, that enough live embers remained to broil the venison more acceptably than any meal that had been prepared since coming to the region.

By that time Jack had recovered his usual good nature, and was as ready to jest as his companion over his dereliction of duty.

"I don't know what time it was when I fell asleep," he said, "but it must have been past midnight. The moon had risen over that high mountain yonder, and I was admiring the wonderful picture its rays made as they shot out over the lower peaks and lit up the chasms between. I never saw anything so beautiful."

"You ought to have called me to share the pleasure with you."

"I have no doubt it was time to do so, but I knew you preferred to sleep rather than look upon Niagara Falls or the Yellowstone."

"If so, I am not the only younker, as Hazletine says, who has such a preference. That reminds me, Jack, that it's mighty lucky we are not vegetarians."

"Why?"

"What should we do for our meals? So long as we stay in these mountains we must live on game. This seasoning that Hank was thoughtful enough to give us makes it palatable, but coffee, bread and a few vegetables would help a good deal."

"It doesn't make much difference, so long as we are blessed, or rather tortured, with such appetites as we have had ever since we struck Wyoming."

From where they sat at the mouth of the cavern they saw all three of their ponies cropping the succulent grass. It was evident that nothing could add to their enjoyment of this outing.

Naturally the boys speculated over the absence of their guide.

"He must have expected to spend the night with us. And, Fred, perhaps it will be just as well, when he does come, that we don't tell him how I passed the time when trying to act the sentinel."

"I surely shall not, unless he questions us so closely that we cannot help letting him know the truth."

"He will have a small opinion of us."

"Why of 'us?'"

"Because you would have done the same as I."

"That has not yet been proven."

"Well, say 'myself,' if that suits better."

"It is a very good amendment. I wonder whether anything can have befallen him?"

"He is too much of a veteran to make such blunders as we."

"That is true, and yet the most skilful hunter in the world is liable to accident. What's frightened the ponies?"

One of the animals had raised his head, with the grass dripping like green water from his jaws, and was looking off to the side of the plateau as if he scented danger of some kind. He was near the further boundary, thus being considerably removed from the boys, who grasped their Winchesters and rose to their feet.

"It's Hank's horse," said Jack, in an undertone; "the others do not seem to be interested in what disturbs him."

"And there comes Hank himself!" was the delighted exclamation of Fred, as they saw their old friend step into view from behind the rocks and walk with his peculiar silent stride toward them.

The movement of the beard under the broad sombrero showed that the guide was smiling, and doubtless he was as pleased as the boys over the meeting. He advanced with the same lengthy step and extended his hand with his hearty "Howdy?" to each in turn.

"Glad to see you, younkers; you seem to have got along as well without me as if I'd been with you."

"Nothing has come amiss; but, Hank, we're glad indeed to see you."

"Where did you git your breakfast?" he asked, glancing at the signs of the meal of which they had partaken.

"Oh, I thought it best yesterday afternoon to shoot a buck," said Fred, airily; "for the main thing for us to do in this part of the world is to look out that we don't starve to death."

"You shot a buck, eh? How was it?"

Thereupon the younger lad gave the particulars of the incident. Hank listened attentively, and when he learned of the part played by Motoza, the vagrant Sioux, his interest deepened.

"So that scamp is in the mountains? I s'pected it; he claimed to have shot the buck and wouldn't divide till Jack took a hand. Why did you let him have any of it?"

"Because he had the right. I thought it was my shot that killed the game, but the bullet only grazed one of his antlers; it was Motoza who killed the buck, and he was entitled to him. Have you been to breakfast?"

"Yes," replied the veteran, whose manner showed that he was displeased with the story he had just heard.

"Hank," said Jack, "why did Motoza give us any of the venison?"

"I don't know," was the unexpected reply; "I'd give a good deal to know."

"Do you suppose he was frightened when he found there were two instead of one to face?"

"It looks that way, but I can't believe it. The Sioux is a scamp mean enough to do anything; but he has grit, and I don't believe that two young tenderfeet like you could scare him."

"Perhaps he felt a respect and friendship for Jack because of what took place in the grove on the prairie," suggested Fred.

The boys expected their friend to ridicule this idea, but he did not. On the contrary, he admitted that it was the most reasonable explanation that presented itself; and because of this admission, both of the lads were confirmed in their faith that the right cause had been named.

"One of you stood guard last night while the other slept?"

The question was so abrupt that Jack's face flushed. Fred was silent, but his comrade thought the best course was to make a clean breast of it, and he did so. Hank won the gratitude of the boys by not uttering a word of reproof or showing any displeasure. More than that, he made the astounding comment:

"I'm glad you slept most of the night."

The two looked at him in astonishment.

"If the Sioux meant you harm, you gave him the best chance in the world. He carries as good a repeating Winchester as yours, and there was nothing to keep him from stealing up in the night and shooting you both; or, if he liked the knife better, it would have been the easiest thing in the world for him to wipe you out when your eyes was closed."

This was a view of the matter that had not presented itself to the youths, for the reason, as will be remembered, that they had accepted the friendship of Motoza as a fact.

"But he could have followed and picked us off when we were on our way here," suggested Jack.

"Yes, he's had all the chances he wanted."

"Then it's safe to set Motoza down as a friend?"

But Hank shook his head.

"The safest thing to do when an Indian is afore the house is to set him down as an enemy waiting for a chance to lift your scalp. That confounded Sioux is one of the cunningest imps that ever stole a white man's pony or helped to stampede a drove of cattle. Everything that he's done since we come into the mountains looks as if he was a friend to us all. I can't help saying that, but it mustn't be furgot that the whole bus'ness may be meant to close our eyes, and that he's got some deviltry in mind back of it all, that neither of you younkers has thought about."

"Have you thought of it?"

The hunter would not reply to this direct question except to say:

"We'll have to wait and see."

And so Jack and Fred were left as much in doubt as before; but, it may be added, with their belief in the friendship of the Sioux unshaken. They reasoned that their guide was so accustomed to seeing the worst side of the red men that he found it hard to believe any good of them. As for themselves, they would feel no further anxiety over the enmity of Motoza, for had he not shown the best possible proof that could be asked of his good-will?

Inasmuch as Hank had given them a series of surprises by his questions and remarks, Jack Dudley now turned the tables on him by saying:

"Yesterday afternoon, when we looked down into that deep canyon over yonder, we shouted to you at the bottom, but suppose the noise of the water prevented your hearing us. At any rate, you gave us no attention."

The hunter was astonished, as he showed by his start and inquiring look.

"So you seen me, did you?"

"We did, and wondered what you were doing there."

Hank laughed in his silent way, as if it were all a joke, but did not offer any explanation. Evidently he had some business down there, but, like most of his kind, was not inclined to make known his secrets when the necessity did not exist.

"What a tremendous climb that was! And it must have been dangerous to pick your way down the side of the canyon."

"I s'pose it would have been if I'd done it, but I didn't."

"Then the canyon cannot be as extended as we thought?"

"That depends on how long you thought it was. As near as I can find out, it is between sixty and seventy miles."

Not wishing to persist in speaking in riddles, Hank added:

"Howsumever, though it's as long as I said, there's a break not fur away, where the banks ain't more than a few feet above the stream. The break isn't large, but it don't have to be. You obsarved that the stream runs into the mountains. It seems to be making a dive fur t'other side, as if it meant to make fur the Pacific, but it gives it up and comes back after a while, and finds its way into the Wind River, and so on to the Big Horn and the Missouri."

"Then you came up the canyon from the break and went back again?"

"I didn't say that. I come up to where you seed me, but instead of going back I climbed the side to the top."

"Gracious, what a task! It must be a thousand feet."

"It isn't much less, but the sides of the canyon are so rough that it's just like so many steps. I've done it often, and ain't the only one. Bart and Mort tried both ways and like the climb better, though Kansas Jim would never take it. Don't furgit one thing, younkers. When you have a job like that afore you it's a good deal easier to climb up than it is to climb down. If you should find yourself at the bottom of the canyon and hit the right spot, you'll larn that the work is easier going up than you think, but it's too resky going down for any one to try."

The boys hoped their friend would tell them why he had entered the gorge, when the act at best was exhausting and accompanied by more or less peril, but he ignored their curiosity, and they did not feel warranted in questioning him. When he thought it well he would tell them, and they could afford to wait until then.

The day was as perfect in its way as its predecessor. The blue sky showed only a few fleecy clouds at wide intervals, and the sun shone with a strength that made its warmth perceptible even in that elevated region. The boys began to feel impatient to be moving. A good many days yet remained to them, but they were all too few to satisfy their longing for the inspiriting life they had entered upon with so much zest.

As the three stood, the backs of Jack and Fred were toward the cavern, in which the fire had been burning, while the hunter faced them. He now turned and looked off over the wild, precipitous mountains by which they were surrounded. The youths, who were observing him, saw him fix his eyes on a point to the right, at which he gazed so long and steadily that it was evident he had discovered something of more than usual interest. Following the same direction they looked keenly, but were unable to detect anything out of the ordinary.

Despite his own fixity of gaze, Hank noted what they were doing, and turning abruptly toward them, asked:

"Do you obsarve anything 'tic'lar?"

"Nothing more than what we have seen," replied Jack. "There are the mountain peaks, most of them reaching above the snow-line; the dark masses below; the scrubby pines, with more abundant vegetation, still further down."

"Do you see that crag that juts out from the side of the lower part of that peak?" asked Hank, extending his hand in the direction indicated.

Thus aided, both boys looked at the exact spot. It was below the snow-line, where only a few of the rocks showed, because of the numerous pines which grew luxuriantly; but, keen as was their eyesight, they were unable to detect the first sign of moving thing or life.

"Try your glasses on it," said Hank.

The boys brought the instruments round in front and levelled them at the point of interest. As they did so they made a discovery. From the very centre of the clump of wood rose a thin, shadowy line of vapor, which was dissolved in the clear air before it ascended more than a few feet above the tree-tops.

"So you obsarve it at last," said the hunter, after they had told what they saw. "Wal, now study it closer, and tell me if you notice anything queer 'bout the same."

Wondering what he could mean, they did as he requested. A minute later Fred said:

"The smoke does not ascend steadily; first it shows plainly, then there is none, and then it shows again."

"Seems to keep it up, eh?"

"Yes, like the puffs from the smoke-stack of a locomotive, only they are a great deal slower," explained Jack; "but the smoke soon dissolves in the clear air."

"Not soon enough, though, to keep you from obsarving what we've been talking about?"

"No; it is too plain to be mistaken."

"Did you ever see the smoke of a camp-fire act like that?"

"Never; have you?"

"Many a time; that's an Injin signal-fire."

This was interesting, but caused nothing in the nature of fear on the part of the boys. It was Fred who remarked:

"The Indians must be signaling to some one."

"Exactly."

"It can't be to us?"

"Not much; it's to another party of Injins, and that other party is calling back to 'em. See whether you can find t'other signal."

The boys moved the points of their glasses back and forth and up and down, but it was not until their guide again pointed out the right spot that they located the second signal. Indeed the vapor was so fine and feathery that it was wonderful how Hank himself had been so quick to note it.

The points were of about the same elevation, and separated by a distance of some two miles. Peak and valley, gorge and canyon, rock and boulder in profusion lay between. No doubt could remain that two parties of Indians were telegraphing messages back and forth, and that they were understood by each party.

As yet the boys failed to see that the matter was of any special concern to them, though it was interesting to know that they were not the only ones who were hunting in that section.

"I suppose," said Jack, "that the parties are from the reservation and are signaling to each other about the game."

"That may be," replied Hank, after some hesitation, "but I ain't quite sure we ain't the game they're signaling 'bout."

"They wouldn't dare disturb us!" exclaimed Fred.

"Not in the open; but don't furgit what I obsarved to you some time ago that an Injin, when he feels purty sartin of not being found out, ain't to be trusted. Now, younkers, I may be all wrong, but if I am, nothing won't be lost by acting as if I was right; whereas if I'm right and we don't act that way, the mischief will be to pay."

"How shall we make sure?"

"By keeping our eyes open; when we're hunting fur game, look out that some of the redskins ain't hunting fur us. I think that confounded Motoza has a finger in this pie."

Without explaining further, the hunter rested the stock of his gun on the ground and leaned upon it in profound meditation. He paid no attention to his companions, but continued gazing in the direction of the first signal-fire he had noticed, and was evidently turning over some scheme in his mind.

Had he been alone he would have given no further attention to the signs, which might mean nothing or a good deal, for he felt able to take care of himself, no matter in what situation he was placed; but he considered that to a large extent the safety of the two boys, who were totally without experience in these solitudes, rested upon him. He must take no chances that were avoidable.

"Younkers," he suddenly said, rousing himself, "I must larn more 'bout this bus'ness; I'm off; don't go so fur from this place that you can't git back to-night; I'll be here and have some news fur you."

And with this parting he strode across the plateau on his way deeper into the mountains.