“Reflection from the fire box of an engine on the smoke that passes over. The reason it comes in flashes is that it only shows when the fireman opens the door to pitch on another scoop of coal. Yes, there it is again!” They plodded on, much encouraged.,
“Cowboy?” said Bob, at once interested by the two magic words “riding range.” He had met them in many books of adventure. They brought up thoughts of bucking bronchos, fights with Indians, and all the rest of the romance of the West. That this boy of about his own age could be a cowboy was really exciting. But he missed the woolly chaps and the sombrero. The boy was simply dressed in overalls, went barefooted and wore a heavy slouch hat.,
“Boss Whitney not here,” stated the Indian. “Boss Taylor good man but not like Chief. You wait for him. Now I go send one, two my young men trail Miguel. Perhaps they catch him—Jenkins, he never catch him. He tired. Not much good trail nohow.”.
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