"They're making camp," whispered Tad.

One after another of the savages took out his pipe, and soon the odor
from burning tobacco was wafted to the nostrils of the hidden Pony
Rider Boys.

"Guess they're going to get some dinner," decided Stacy, observing
that the strangers were gathering brush.

This was the case. The ponies had been staked where they could browse
on the green leaves, and now their masters were about to satisfy their
own appetites.

Tad groaned.

"What is it?" questioned Stacy apprehensively.

"They will be here half of the day at least. I know a little about
Indians, having been captured by them once. The difference is that my
Indians were in a hurry to get somewhere. These fellows seem to have
all the time in the world. They're waiting-- killing time for some
reason. You'll see, after they finish their dinner, that they will
smoke some more, then lie down for a catnap."

"And-- and what'll we be doing?"

"We'll be hiding on the top of this rock, Chunky."

"Wish I had my rifle."