Tex’s abstraction had not escaped Hopalong. The end of his tale reached, he had put away the balance of the food, seen to the secure picketing of the two horses, put out the fire by the simple expedient of kicking over it sufficient sand, and had arranged the saddles in such a way that they completely hid the sack and could not be disturbed without arousing both him and Tex. From time to time he glanced at his silent companion, smiling to himself at the sight of such complete absorption. He could see himself over again in Tex, who was almost as old a man, recalling how he had been wont to ponder on the probable movements of an enemy and the pleasure he took, after a victory, in reviewing what had gone before and checking the mistakes and the successes in his reasoning. He wondered idly why it had lost its attraction for him and he concluded, with a whimsical grin, that marriage gave a man other things to think about. But however lost Hopalong might be to inward speculation, no outward manifestation of the unusual or unlooked-for failed to appeal to his always active and alert senses. The pipe he had been smoking contentedly was held between his fingers, out and almost cold, his head was bent to one side and he was listening intently. He put his head to the ground and then arose to his feet, his ear turned to the stray breeze that was bringing to him faint and disagreeable sounds. When Tex’s hand went out to him and Tex’s voice broke in upon those barely audible sounds, he grasped the hand and gripped it hard to enjoin silence. Tex listened with all his ears but the ground noises had ceased and he was not high enough to have the advantage of the wind that was vexing Hopalong’s hearing. Hopalong silently dragged him to his feet; they stood thus for a few seconds and then the look they turned upon each other was pregnant with significance. "Makin’ quite a noise," said Hopalong. "An’ we ain’t near th’ trail yet. What do you make of it?" "Dunno," answered Tex. "Had n’t ought to be a man within twenty miles of us, Hoppy, ’less it’s a Injun—an’ them’s no Injuns. Sounds to me like singin’." "Same here," agreed Hopalong. "Can’t be a drive herd, can it?" "Not as I knows of. No herd ever come this way since th’ railroad put through, an’ then they stuck to th’ trail." "We got to find out, Tex," declared Hopalong, decisively. "Can’t roost with a noisy bunch of coyotes like them runnin’ ’round an’ howlin’ for gore." "I ’ll go, Hoppy," said Tex, "an’ if I ain’t back in an hour, you take both cayuses an’ hike out for th’ ranch." "An’ leave you afoot?" asked Hopalong. "Not by a d—n sight."