“A sentry smoking a cigarette,” came the reply.
“How silly of me not to have guessed that,” thought the Kentucky boy.
And then he sniffed the air, for it chanced that the night wind was blowing gently from the point where that fire glowed.
“Smoke, sure enough, and from a cigarette, just as Frank said,” he continued to himself.
Of course it was very plain now why the expedition had come to such a sudden halt. Here was a vidette posted in a position where he could discover any suspicious movement below. There was a wide strip of moonlight confronting them, and it would be difficult to pass along the trail without crossing this, when of course the keen eyes above would discover their presence.
“What are we going to do about it, Frank?” he managed to say in his chum’s ear.
“Nothing—that is, the main lot of us,” replied Frank.
“But how about Scotty?” Bob continued, determined to be posted.
“Leave that to him; he’s figuring on doing something right now,” Frank replied; and indeed, the Kentucky boy could see that the guide of the expedition was leaving the main body, as though he had arranged his programme.
Bob could give a pretty shrewd guess as to what was necessary. That sentry must not be allowed to block the way much longer. So long as he sat there in the shadows above, the cowboys could not advance a step without taking risks. And if discovered this early in the night, they knew that their plans would receive a serious setback.
Evidently Scotty was about to make some sort of move looking to the capture of the vidette. Bob had heard Colonel Haywood warn his men that there was to be no blood shed unless the rustlers put up a desperate resistance. The stockman was known as a humane man, and believed in peaceful tactics whenever possible, although, if forced to the wall, he could fight hard.
A second cow puncher started to creep immediately after Scotty. That looked as if they wanted to make sure of the game.
“Lay low!” was the whispered word passed along the line; and hence the two saddle boys remained where they chanced to be crouching.
Beyond the narrow pass no doubt lay a fertile valley, which the cunning Mendoza had long utilized as a corral. Here he kept his stolen herds, while the brands were being changed. When the hue and cry had died down no doubt he would drive the cattle forth, taking care to avoid the neighborhood where his latest operations had been carried on.