looking moon was part way up in the Eastern heavens.
Though the light she gave was none of the best, still, to the boys,
coming from the interior of the tent, it seemed quite enough to enable
them to see their way about, and even distinguish objects at a little
distance.

Frank lost no time heading in the direction where he knew the horses had
been staked out.

"Anyhow, they don't seem to have got them yet," remarked Bob, gleefully,
as the sound of prancing and snorting came to their ears louder than
ever.

Frank stopped for a couple of seconds to listen.

"Buckskin is carrying on something fierce," he muttered. "He seems to be
furiously mad, too. Perhaps, after all, it may be a bear sniffing
around; though I'd never expect to find such a thing out here, so far
away from the mountains."

He again started on, with Bob close at his elbow. The words of his chum
had given the Kentucky lad new cause for other thrills. What if it
should prove to be a grizzly bear? He had had one experience with such a
monster, and was not particularly anxious for another, not being in the
big game class.

Now they were approaching the spot where the two roped horses were
jumping restlessly about, making queer sounds that could only indicate
alarm.

Frank spoke to his animal immediately, thinking to reassure him.

"Easy now, Buckskin; what's making you act this way? I don't see any
enemy. If you've given a false alarm, it'll sure be for the first time!"

"Frank!" ventured the other lad, just then.

"What is it, Bob?"

"I thought I heard a low groan!" continued the Kentucky boy, in awed
tones.

"You did?" ejaculated Frank, quickly. "Have you any idea where it came
from?"

As if to make it quite unnecessary for Bob to reply, there came just
then a low but distinct grunt or groan. Frank could not tell which.

"Over this way, Frank; he's in this direction!" exclaimed the impulsive
Bob, as he started to move off.

"Wait a minute," said the practical and cautious Frank. "You never know
what sort of game you're up against, around here. Some of these horse
thieves can toll a fellow away from his camp to beat the band, while a
mate gets off with the saddle band. I've been warned against that very
sort of play. Go slow, Bob, and keep a finger on your trigger, I tell
you."

They advanced slowly, looking all around in the dim moonlight. Twice
more the strange sounds arose. Frank jumped to the conclusion that it
was, after all, no at