d with his back
against the rock, and his head drooping over his breast, was sound
asleep.

"Durned sleepy-head!" exclaimed Rube, in a tone of peevish impatience.
"Prod 'im wi' the point o' yur bowie, Bill! Rib-roast 'im wi' yur
wipin'-stick! Lam 'im wi' yur laryette!--gi' 'im a kick i' the guts!--
roust 'im up, durn 'im!"

"Lige!--he!--Dutchy!" cried Garey, approaching the sleeper, and shaking
him by the shoulder; "I want your sombrera."

"Ho! wo! stand still! Jingo! he'll throw me. I can't get off; the
spurs are locked. He! wo! wo!"

Rube and Garey broke into a loud cachinnation that awakened the rest of
the slumberers. Quackenboss alone remained asleep, fighting in his
dreams with the wild Indian horse.

"Durned mulehead!" cried Rube after a pause; "let 'im go on at thet
long's he likes it. Chuck the hat off o' his head, Bill! we don't want
_him_--thet we don't."

There was a little pique in the trapper's tone. The breach that the
ranger had made, while acting as a faithful sentinel, was not yet
healed.

Garey made no further attempts to arouse the sleeper, but in obedience
to the order of his comrade, lifted off the hat; and, having procured
one of the great candles, he and Rube started off without saying another
word, of giving any clue to their design.

Though joyed at what I had heard, I refrained from interrogating them.
Some of my followers who put questions received only ambiguous answers.
From the manner of the trappers, I saw that they wished to be left to
themselves; and I could well trust them to the development of whatever
design they had conceived.

On leaving us, they walked straight out from the cliff; but how far they
continued in this direction it was impossible to tell. They had not
lighted the candle; and after going half-a-dozen steps, their forms
disappeared from our view amidst the darkness and thickly-falling rain.

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.

THE TRAIL RECOVERED.

The rangers, after a moment of speculation as to the designs of the
trappers, resumed their attitude of repose. Fatigued as they were, even
the cold could not keep them awake.

After a pause, the voice of Quackenboss could be heard, in proof that
that heavy sleeper was at length aroused; the rain falling upon his
half-bald skull had been more effective than the shouts and shaking of
Garey.

"Hillo? Where's my hat?" inquired he in a mystified tone, at the same
time stirring himself, and groping about among t