The strain was telling on Bill and he raised his arm. "Sorry to cut off this interestin’ conversation, but I reckon we better move. Jimmy, tie that wolf-hound to th’ axle—it won’t make him drunk—an’ then go ahead an’ pick a new trail to Logan. Keep north of th’ other, an’ stay down from sky-lines. I ’ll foller back a ways. Get a-goin’," and he was obeyed. Jimmy rode a quarter of a mile in advance, unjustly escaping the remarks that Mollie was directing at him, her brothers, Bill, the dog and the situation in general. A backward glance as he left the wagon apprised him that the dangers of scouting were to be taken thankfully. He rode carelessly up the side of a hill and glanced over the top, ducked quickly and backed down with undignified haste. He fervently endorsed Bill’s wisdom in taking a different route to Logan, for the Apaches certainly would strike the other trail and follow hard; and to have run into them would have been disastrous. He approached the wagon leisurely, swept off his sombrero and grinned. "Reckon you could hit any game?" he inquired. The brothers nodded glumly. "Well, get yore guns handy." There was really no need for the order. "There ’s lots of it, an’ fresh meat ’ll come in good. Don’t shoot till I says so," he warned, earnestly. "O.K., Hawkeye," replied Tom coolly. "We ’ll wait for the whites of their eyes, _à la Bunker Hill_," replied George, uneasily, "before we wipe out the game of this large section of God’s accusing and forgotten wilderness. Any _big_ game loose?" Jimmy nodded emphatically. "You bet! I just saw a bunch of copperhead snakes that ’d give you chills." The tones were very suggestive and George stroked his rifle nervously and felt little drops of cold water trickle from his armpits. Mollie instinctively drew her skirts tighter around her and placed her feet on the edge of the wagon box under the seat. "They can’t climb into the wagon, can they?" she asked apprehensively. "Oh, no, ma’am," reassured Jimmy. "Anyhow, th’ dog will keep them away." He turned to the brothers. "I ain’t shore about th’ way, so I ’m goin’ to see Bill. Wait till I come back," and he was gone. Tom gripped the reins more firmly and waited. Nothing short of an earthquake would move that wagon until he had been told to drive on. George searched the surrounding country with anxious eyes while his sister gazed fascinatedly at the ground close to the wagon. She suddenly had remembered that the dog was tied.