After that, when the coyotes howled, and made things disagreeable, Roger would take up his gun, fondle it for a minute, as temptation whispered at his heart, and then with a shake of his head he would place it once more on the ground as though he could not be coaxed to come down to such poor shooting. And so long as the miserable brutes kept clear of the camp, and did not annoy their horses, the chances were that they would be left alone to continue their nightly serenade. CHAPTER XIX THE LOST RIVER WHEN several more days had passed, and the boys found that they had again lost track of the river in seeking to save time by making a cut-off, Roger was very much downcast. There was some reason for this, too, since it had really been his fault; Dick thinking it best to stick to the river, while his cousin argued that they would gain a whole day by saving the time spent in following the winding course of the stream. And so they had struck out, taking more chances than were perhaps advisable under the circumstances. And now neither could say in which direction they must look in order to once more come upon the river. Dick did not attempt to chide his companion. On the contrary, he even took a part of the blame on his own shoulders, and in speaking of the mistake, if such it should prove to be, always used the words "_our_ blunder." He knew very well that Roger was suffering enough without having "salt rubbed into his open cuts." And the chances were, no matter how the experiment turned out, Roger after that would be slow to insist on having his own way. Dick went about it in a cool, matter-of-fact way. He consulted his crude little chart, made up pretty much at a guess, for information had come in a dozen roundabout ways, none of which were strictly reliable. Then he took his bearings with relation to the sun, their previous course, and some other things that seemed to have an intimate connection with the case. After that he laid out a new trail, and marked it on the map, explaining to his admiring and now repentant companion just how he believed they must head in order to once again reach the Big Muddy. "And I feel so sure that we will strike it by keeping on toward the north that we must let nothing turn us from that course," he ended, with a ring to his voice that told of determination. "What if we run on to an Indian village, because we are now in the country of the Shoshones, you know?" Roger remarked. "Then we'll just wait for night," replied the other, quietly, "and pass the wigwams by as close as we dare; for I would not want to make too wide a circuit. And now let us make a fresh start." This had been on the previous day to the one on which we again find the undaunted lads pushing directly into the north, bent on finding the river again.