Phil was glad of the added stay in the hills. He was developing great skill as a hunter and a trailer, and he and his comrades wandered farther and farther every day into the broken forest region toward the north. Oftenest he and Bill Breakstone were together. Despite the difference in years, they had become brothers of the wilderness. In their scoutings they found available pathways for horses over the hills and among the great trees, and, starting, one morning, they rode far to the north, covering thirty or forty miles. Phil was interested in some high mountains which showed a dim blue ahead, and Breakstone was carefully examining the rock formations. But as night came on they found that the hills were dropping down, and the mountains seemed to be about as blue and as far ahead as ever. "I should judge from these signs," said Breakstone, "that there is a valley or narrow plain ahead, between us and the mountains. But we’ll look into that to-morrow. It isn’t good to be riding around in the dark over hills and through thickets." They found a little grassy open space, where they tethered their horses, leaving them to graze as long as they wished, and, lighting no fire, they ate jerked buffalo meat. Then they crept into snug coverts under the bushes, wrapped their blankets about them, and fell asleep. Phil opened his eyes at daylight to find Breakstone already awake. The horses were grazing contentedly. The trees and bushes were already tipped with fire by the gorgeous Texas sun. "Sir Philip of the Bushes," said Bill Breakstone, "you just lie here and chew up a buffalo or two, while I go ahead and take a look. As I said last night, these hills certainly drop down into a plain, and I want to see that plain." "All right," said Phil, "I’ll stay where I am. It’s so snug in this blanket on a cool morning that I don’t care to move anyhow, and I can eat my breakfast lying down." He drew out a freshly jerked strip of buffalo meat, and another very tender portion of a black-tailed deer that he himself had shot, and fell to it. Bill Breakstone, his rifle held conveniently at his side, slid away among the bushes. Phil ate contentedly. The sun rose higher. The morning was absolutely still. The horses seemed to have had enough grass, and lay down placidly on their sides. It occurred to Phil that he, too, had eaten enough, and he put the remainder of the food back in his hunter’s knapsack. Then he began to get drowsy again. It was so very still. He thought once of rising and walking about, but he remembered Breakstone’s advice to lie still, and, against his will, he kept it. Then his drowsiness increased, and, before he was aware of it he was asleep again.