"Wonder if well see any antelopes or mebbe a stray buffalo," Lanky said to Paul, as they discussed things on Monday morning--the probable state of the weather for the great day, now close at hand, how they would stand the long gallop in the hot sun, whether those persistent enemies who had pestered them so long would be lying in wait with other evil designs in view, and kindred topics, of which there seemed to be legions cropping up. "Somehow," Paul returned, with a note of yearning in his voice, "I've been telling myself that I might have the ambition of my life granted before we left the Rockies." "Now what could that be, I wonder?" quizzed Lanky. "Set eyes on a real Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep," explained the other, with a little laugh. "Sounds queer, I know, Lanky, but I've never forgotten one I saw in a zoo, and it's haunted me ever since--those big curving horns on which they say it often alights when bounding from a cliff to a plateau thirty feet lower down. I've even dreamed of seeing that marvellous stunt." Lanky rubbed the tip of his nose reflectively. "I never thought of seeing a genuine bighorn in its native haunts, Paul. But if only I could have the glory of knocking a rousing big chap off his perch and getting a pair of horns to take back to Columbia as a trophy! Shucks I wouldn't mind going to some trouble over _such_ a job!" That was the difference between Lanky and Paul. Paul seemed satisfied just to see and admire objects in Nature's vast domain; but Lanky, having the hunter instinct developed in his nature, thought only of possession--the monster bass swimming in the shallow water of the lake did not interest him one-tenth as much as when it was leaping at the end of his line and giving him a succession of thrills in a frantic endeavor to escape. Tuesday morning dawned with a dear sky. It promised to be a hot day, as all the weather sharps could easily predict; but then such a minor detail did not bother any of the members of the expedition a particle. The boys were keyed up to a high tension, and ready--as Lanky put it, "to buck up against any old thing that might come along, from cyclones and waterspouts to attacks from hostile men who might take them for government agents spying on boot-legger operations." Every soul on the ranch from Charlie Gin Sing to Mrs. Wallace was on the spot to wish them a safe and prosperous journey. Minnie hovered around and smiled in a way that puzzled Frank. "Now I wonder what kind of a bee that girl has got working in her brain?" Frank said to himself more than once. Somehow, it made him a bit uneasy. "I hope she hasn't the feast idea of trying to follow us! That would be the maddest of pranks." The good-byes were said, and the little cavalcade rode bravely off, those in the saddle turning to send back last words to those left behind, and particularly Minnie and Mrs. Wallace.