The Overlanders dismounted, Stacy with much grumbling, leading their ponies and cautiously picking their way over the rugged trail. It was six o’clock when they finally reached the spot indicated by Stacy Brown. His reading of the signs had been right. A sparkling spring of cold water was found there bubbling from the mountain-side. The guide dug a shallow pool below the spring, then a channel from the spring to draw the water to the pool. In this way he formed a basin from which the animals might drink without fouling the waters of the spring itself. The Riders were so interested in the proceeding that for the moment they forgot to get to work.
“Well? Shall we start something instead of watching Jim?” demanded Hippy.
“Do? Why, make camp, of course. This is where we stay to-night.”
“I hope nobody steals my ‘pants’ again to-night,” grumbled Chunky.
All hands thereupon set briskly to work to prepare camp, hoping to be permitted to pass a night in sleep and comfort, but their sleep that night was destined to be brief, for an exciting night was before them.
Stacy, who had volunteered to build the fire because it required less effort than making camp, balanced the match between his fingers and thoughtfully regarded the blackened sliver.
“Girls, what is the quickest tempered thing in the world?” he asked.
“I should say it is Stacy Brown when someone asks him to work,” laughed Grace.
“I suppose you want me to say ‘I give it up,’ eh?”
“A rattlesnake shedding its skin,” suggested Hippy.
“A match! At the slightest irritation it flares right up and sputters and bites your finger. Frightful temper!”
“I call it much more acceptable than Chunky’s jokes ordinarily are,” approved Emma. “Even if he did read it in last year’s almanac I think—” “Did you read it in last year’s almanac?” demanded Stacy.
“Then don’t jump at conclusions, Miss Dean. It is a sure indication of brainlessness. Of course, among ourselves it doesn’t matter, but when outsiders are present you should endeavor to hide your shortcomings. I’ll give you another one. What is yesterday?”
“Yesterday—yesterday?” repeated Emma perplexedly. “Why, I don’t know unless yesterday is yesterday.”
“There you go jumping at conclusions again. No, Miss Dean, yesterday is what to-day will be to-morrow.”