"And then they got to wobbling and I couldn't make out what they are.

They might be field mice, or they might be giraffes--I'm darned if I know which." Luck focussed the glasses, but whatever the objects had been, they were no longer to be seen.

So the two hours passed and they saw Applehead and Lite come slowly up the hill from camp bearing their rifles and their ropes and a canteen of fresh water, as the three things they might find most use for.
These two settled themselves to watch for horses--their own range horses.

When they were relieved they reported nothing save a continued inclination on the part of the atmosphere to be what Andy called miragy.
So, the day passed, chafing their spirits worse than any amount of active trouble would have done.

Pink slept and brooded by turns, still blaming himself for the misfortune.