Not long did it take to prepare the food, and Bill was just pouring
the coffee when Mr. Wilder aroused his guests.
"Wh--what is it?" gasped Larry, sitting up and staring about him
dazedly.
"It's breakfast, that's all," said Horace. "Hey, Mr. Commander,
you'll be court-martialed if you miss grub." And he proceeded to
drag Tom from his bed of boughs by the heels.
Chagrined to think they had not helped with the meal, Tom and Larry
quickly arose and ran to the brook to wash.
As they stood at the pool they forgot their ablutions in the beauty
of the scene before them.
The grass of the prairie was heavy with dew and in the rose glow of
the sky the particles of moisture sparkled and glistened like
countless crystals.
"Seems like fairyland," whispered Tom, as though afraid if he spoke
out loud the scene would vanish.
A call from Horace, however, roused them to action, and in a few
minutes they were, eating heartily.
"What sort of a brook is that?" asked Larry. "I didn't see any
outlet, yet water keeps running into the pool all the time."
"There must be some underground stream into which it empties,"
replied the ranchman. "There are two such subterranean rivers in
these hills, and, I suppose this pool connects with one of them."
Discussion of such phenomena was prevented by his continuing:
"Hurry now and pack up.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69