CHAPTER XXV—CHET’S DETERMINATION

“By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland!” Dig vowed. “Have we chased these snoozers all this way for nothing?”

“Let’s search ’em again,” insisted Chet grimly. “They took those deeds out of my pocket and they have them somewhere.”

“Don’t you boys maul me all over no more,” said Tony complainingly. “I tell ye, ye won’t find nothin’ on me—and ye tickle. I never could stand being tickled. Lemme up,” and the rough fellow grinned up into their faces in a most knowing way.

“No,” said Chet slowly. “We’ll not let you up yet. I think you’d look pretty going back to Silver Run with a rope around you.”

“Back to the Run?” questioned Dig, puzzled.

“No use our going on to Grub Stake if we can’t find the deeds,” said Chet sternly. “And what do you suppose the boys at father’s mine would do to this scamp if they got hold of him again?”

“Aw—say!” growled Tony. “You’re too fresh. I don’t want to go back to the mine.”

“Then where are those papers?” Chet demanded earnestly.

“Don’t ask me about ’em. I never had ’em,” declared the man.

“But you’ve seen them? Your partner had them? And he has them yet, I believe,” cried Chet, turning sharply on the other villain.

“Find out!” snarled that individual.

“I’ll find out before I let you free,” promised the lad.

“Say!” exclaimed Tony. “Don’t hold me for Steve’s sins. I took your coffee-pot and truck and you got ’em back. Now let up on a feller.”

“Why should I?” Chet demanded seriously. “I’ve got to find the deeds.”

“I ain’t got ’em—honest!” declared Tony.

“I wouldn’t take your word for it,” growled Dig, in the background.

“Well! you might as well believe me,” almost whined the big fellow. “I don’t want you boys to keep me tied up this a-way.”

“Shut up, you sniveler!” commanded the man called Steve, from the other side of the fire.

“Say! you can shut up yourself,” cried Tony. “I knowed you’d get us into trouble. These are two powerful smart boys and we’d oughtn’t to have treated ’em so mean. Give ’em the papers back, Steve.”

“Shut your mouth!” yelled the other man. “I haven’t the papers.”

“Well, you had ’em,” grumbled Tony.

“We’ll search him again—to the skin,” said Chet bitterly. “Come on, Dig. Hold your gun on him,” and he approached Steve.

But he had no idea that the man did have the papers. He had already searched the scoundrel too thoroughly to have missed any hiding place for the deeds his father had entrusted to him. Chet felt very bad indeed.

“I tell you boys—and you might as well understand me,” said the man, Steve, threateningly, “I haven’t got those deeds. I’ve dropped ’em somewhere and I don’t know where. Back where we camped at noon, maybe. That’s straight.”

“Let’s look around the camp here,” proposed Dig, knowing how unhappy his chum felt, and wishing to help.

He threw an armful of light wood on the fire and the blaze sprang up immediately, illuminating the clearing more fully. Already Dig had collected their possessions into a heap. He found every article they had missed.

Searching the camp did no good, however. As Dig said, they did not leave a leaf unturned. But the deeds were not to be found. Their size and the stiffness of the legal paper on which they were written would have made it impossible for Steve to have hidden the documents in any small space. Supposing he had doubted the honesty of Tony (which he well might) Steve may have thought of hiding the papers before he went to sleep. But where?

The boys almost tore his saddle to pieces looking for the documents. They pulled off his boots and made sure the papers were not in his socks. When they got through their final search they were convinced that the deeds were not on either man or anywhere about the camp.

“What do you think, Chet?” asked Dig, in a low tone. “Is the fellow telling the truth?”

“I am inclined to believe he is,” Chet returned, with a sigh. “It’s a tough proposition. I feel dreadfully bad about it. What will father say?”

“But, Chet! He can’t blame us.”

“He’ll blame me. And why shouldn’t he? He entrusted me with the deeds and I had no business to lose them.”

“Well!” said Dig slowly. “What shall we do now? Going to leave these fellows tied up for the wolves to eat?”

“Hey!” shouted Tony. “Don’t you do that. There are wolves about.”

Chet picked up Tony’s old rifle and noted its make and calibre. Then he looked at the long barreled pistol they had taken away from the other man. There were no other weapons in the possession of the two scoundrels.

“We’ll untie them, I reckon, and let them up,” Chet said slowly. “Nothing else to do that I can see. But I want you fellows to understand,” he added, facing the men, “that we both carry rifles that will outshoot this old piece of junk,” and he tapped Tony’s gun, “by about an eighth of a mile. Don’t come fooling around our camp again, for if you do we’ll shoot,” and he said it in a tone that carried conviction.

Neither of the men said a word as the boys carefully removed the strong ropes. Then Dig picked up their possessions, and carried them to a distance yet not so far away that the light of the campfire could not be seen. Later he brought the horses and the rifles.

When the rifles were in their hands Chet agreed to leave the scoundrels alone. But he advised the men to keep a bright fire going for the rest of the night.

“If we see it die down at all,” Chet threatened grimly, “whichever of us is awake will be very apt to send a bullet or two over here to wake you up. Come on, Dig,” and he walked backwards out of the rascals’ camp.

The boys cooked and ate a hearty supper—and they needed it. Chet sat so that he could see into the rascals’ camp and he kept the heavy rifle beside him. Of course, had the two men begun stirring around, he would only have fired into the tree-tops to scare them; but as he told Digby, a firm stand was necessary.

“And where they go, we go,” Chet Havens declared. “They have lost the deeds, without much doubt. But they’ll go to look for them. That Steve will remember where he dropped them.”

“Do you mean to tag around after those chaps?” gasped his chum.

“Yes, I do. That is my determination,” said Chet, nodding vigorously. “It is our best chance to find the papers, whether they have dropped them, or whether Steve was lying about it and has got them hidden away somewhere.”

“He said he might have dropped them back where they camped,” Dig said reflectively.

“Well, they haven’t camped but once since they robbed us, and that’s sure. That was for their noon bite. Where that was we have no idea. We just have to watch them!”

Both boys were excited by the adventure of the evening and Chet declared that he could not sleep at all; so he took the first watch. He heard nothing of the two men but he noted that their fire was kept burning brightly.

Dig was not unfaithful to his duty during the last of the night, either; but he awoke Chet about dawn by shaking him vigorously.

“Hi! come alive!” urged the slangy youngster in a hoarse whisper.

“What’s the matter?” demanded Chet, sitting up.

“Those fellows are getting ready to move out. If you want to follow them, we have got to get a move on.”

Dig already had the coffee over the fire and the meat ready for broiling. It seemed that the other camp had been astir for some time. The sky was growing light and Tony had brought up the horses.

“I have an idea they’ll try to get away from us,” Chet said. “But we’ll fool them. Hero and Poke can travel twice as much trail in a day as those sorry ponies they have.”

“Right!” agreed Dig.

The boys had only enough water in their canteens for breakfast—none for the horses, or for their own ablutions. “We’ll wait till we reach the first water-hole,” Chet advised. “Cinch on the saddles, Dig.”

They had time to eat a good breakfast, however. But Dig grumbled over one thing.

“I’d give a dollar for a hunk of bread!” he declared.

“We’ll appreciate white-flour bread all the more when we get it again,” his chum told him.

Suddenly the boys saw the two men clamber into their saddles. They started back for the edge of the timber. Chet and Dig were ready and quickly fastened their blanket-rolls upon their saddles. They led their mounts to the open plain.

There they saw Steve and Tony cantering away in an easterly direction, taking the back track.

“They’re going back to that camp of theirs where Steve says he lost the deeds, Dig,” Chet declared eagerly. “Come on!”

“I’m with you,” agreed his chum and spurred the black horse after the bay.

They had not gone a mile when the men looked back and saw that they were pursued. The boys did not draw near to them but they showed a dogged intention of keeping on their trail.

“That Steve-man is madder’n a hatter,” chuckled Dig. “He don’t like our company a little bit.”

The men drew in their horses and glared back at the trail boys. The latter stopped their mounts as well and sat calmly, waiting. The men were in eager and angry conference. It was plain that they did not wholly agree as to their future course.

Finally Steve jerked his pony around and cantered away toward the southwest. Tony followed more slowly, and evidently against his will. The boys waited until they were some distance off, and then turned their own horses in the same direction.

“If I knew where they had camped yesterday noon—this side of the river, of course—I’d say, let’s go there and search the camping place,” said Chet thoughtfully. “But it would take too long to find the place, and meanwhile the scoundrels might be riding hard for Grub Stake and fooling us. For there’s always the chance that that fellow Steve has the deeds, after all.”

“They weren’t on him, that’s sure,” remarked Digby.

“He might even have had them hidden in that hollow log. We didn’t think to search it,” Chet rejoined. “No! our best course is to keep watch of them.”

“Come on, then,” said his chum, tightening Poke’s rein. “They’re getting a good way in the lead.”

There was not much chance of the rascals getting away from them, however. Not for the first few hours, at least. The strip of timber they soon rode through was not very wide, and out upon the other side the open plain faced them again.

All the time the quarry was bearing off toward the Grub Stake trail. The mining town, Chet figured, could not be much more than fifty miles away now. They had come west a long way since first seeing the herd of buffaloes that had toled them off the trail and caused Dig to abandon his friend, the maverick.

“If they are going to Grub Stake we’ll be able to put a spoke in their wheel with Mr. Morrisy,” said Chet. “We’ll hope Steve hasn’t the deeds any more than we have. Of course, my recommendation to the Wells Fargo Express Company was with the deeds, too; but my description doesn’t fit either of those rascals, I hope—nor can they sign my name. Father’s money will be safe.”

“It puzzles me why they are going at all, if they haven’t the papers,” Dig observed.

“Maybe they are going for grub. They can’t have much—and a mighty poor outfit for camping, anyway. I didn’t see any meat in their camp last night,” Chet said.

“That might be the reason. Well, we need some stuff ourselves. I hope they lead us straight to town.”

CHAPTER XXVI—“THE KING OF THEM ALL”

Following the two men who had robbed them, but who had been later overcome by the chums, was, as Dig announced, a tame sort of job. The mounts of the trail boys were so much superior to the ponies ridden by the men, that there was little danger of the pursued outwitting the pursuers on the open plain.

But before many hours the course followed would bring the two parties into a hilly country, and Chet well knew that then they would have to be sharp to keep directly on the men’s trail.

“Just the same, we can read signs pretty well,” he told his chum; “and by riding close to them I don’t believe that Steve can beat us. I’m sure Tony is too clumsy to hide his trail at all.”

“He’s strong as an ox, though,” said Dig, reflectively. “We must be mighty careful, Chet, that Tony never comes to a clinch with either of us. If he does—good-bye!”

“We mustn’t let either get within pistol range,” Chet said quietly. “We know that already.”

It was, indeed, rather a delicate situation. The boys were not at all sure that the thieves would not do them bodily harm if they got the chance. Two boys certainly would be no match for two men if they came together unarmed.

But their superior mounts and superior weapons gave the chums considerable confidence, if it did not reduce their caution. Even Dig was tempted to take no risks in approaching the villains.

Every mile they travelled brought the high hills nearer. Their outline was rugged and the forest that clothed their sides for the most part, thick. Somewhere up in those hills was the site of Grub Stake.

When the men stopped for a noonday rest and lunch, so did the boys. Fortunately it was beside a stream, so the two camps did not have to be near together. But Tony Traddles had the impudence to come somewhat near the chums and shout:

“Say! you boys have had plenty of luck hunting. Ain’t you got more meat than you want? We ain’t seen even a grouse.”

“Tell him ‘No,’” whispered Digby. “The cheek of him!”

But Chet saw that they would have to throw away some of the buffalo steaks if they were not soon eaten. The weather was too hot to carry fresh meat far in a blanket-roll. So he said:

“Let’s give them some. It won’t hurt us.”

“Huh! no, but I hope it will choke them,” growled Dig. “Giving sustenance to the enemy. Very bad judgment, Chet.”

“Oh, well,” said his chum and started with a couple of big steaks to meet Tony.

“I’ll keep a gun in my hand,” said Dig, behind him. “I wouldn’t trust that Tony as far as I could swing an elephant by the tail!”

But the man received the meat with some expressions of gratitude. “I ain’t in with this sharp,” he whispered to Chet, and pointing with his thumb over his shoulder at the man Steve, “for any money, or like o’ that. I didn’t know just what he was after till he’d got them papers off’n you.”

“Well, he got them,” said Chet shortly.

“But he ain’t got ’em now,” said the fellow, with a quick grin. “The chump lost ’em—somewhere.”

Chet distrusted Tony Traddles; and he suspected that this all might have been arranged for the purpose of trying to throw him and Dig off the track. So he said nothing, returning to his own camp.

They spent some time beside the stream; but as soon as the other party saddled their horses, the boys got ready to leave, too. Steve seemed in an ugly humour and Chet and Dig heard him threatening Tony.

“‘When thieves fall out, honest men may get their dues,’ is an old saying,” whispered Chet. “Listen! Maybe we can hear something.”

But they heard nothing of consequence. In ten minutes both parties were on horseback and trailing across the plain. There were many clumps of trees now, and the plain was cut up with gullies and rocky eminences which both parties wished to shun.

They raised several coveys of grouse and Chet brought down two brace with his pistol. Dig tried to emulate his chum and was bitterly disgusted at the result.

“Waugh!” he grunted. “I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a cannon firing shrapnel. I don’t see how you do it, Chet.”

“Practice—practice, my boy,” quoth his chum. “Say!” ejaculated Dig. “Those fellows are watching. Hope they see what you do with a pistol, and overlook my work.”

“That Steve What-is-it saw me shoot that hawk the other day. I guess he knows that we’re good shots. And of course Tony Traddles knows we’re not tenderfeet.”

The boys saw Tony blaze away with his rifle several times at the birds, but they didn’t see a feather fly. Hitting a bird on the wing with a rifle is no easy task, at best. Chet’s work with the six-shooter was the result of long practice and a certain aptitude that the boy had originally possessed.

If the men were out of meat it looked as though they would go hungry to bed, for no other game appeared in the course of the afternoon’s ride. Evening was already approaching and Dig began to grumble because Tony and Steve did not seek a camp.

“This being paced by a pair of irresponsible chumps like them, is no fun. Who knows,” he said, “but they may keep on all night.”

“Not on those horses they are riding,” declared Chet firmly. “They’ve been ridden hard already, and they are about giving out.”

“That’s so, too,” Dig hastened to agree. “I hate to see a pony punished the way those fellows are punishing their mounts. They ought to be jailed for that, if for nothing else.”

The men had headed up the long slope of a low hill. It was timbered, but scantily; and there were many rocks cropping out of the soil. The boys had not seen water lately and they were anxious to refresh their horses and themselves.

“I hope there’s a spring on the far side of this hill,” Chet said.

“Say! there’s something over there!” exclaimed his chum. “Look at Tony!”

The big, hairy man had turned in his saddle and was vigorously beckoning the boys on. He was undoubtedly excited by something he saw beyond the hill, on the summit of which he and his partner now were.

“What do you suppose he wants?” queried Chet doubtfully.

“Don’t know. See! they’re both looking over there—”

Dig prepared to ride on, but Chet stayed him. “Have a care, boy,” he said. “Those fellows aren’t above playing some trick on us.”

“I know they’re not above it,” grinned Digby.

“But I don’t believe they can get us in the open like this.”

“Just lay your rifle across your saddle forks. Be ready with it—and let them see that you are ready.”

“All right,” agreed his chum, and in that way—with rifles in hand—the two boys rode up toward the men they had trailed all day. Steve turned and saw their caution and his grin was sardonic. But Tony was too excited to notice the muzzles of the heavy rifles pointing his way as the boys rode up to the summit of the hill.

The hairy man did not shout to them, but gestured and beckoned. For that reason Chet suspected that he had sighted game and wanted their help in securing it. Even Steve was eagerly watching what lay beyond the hill.

Chet pressed off to one side, so that they were a short pistol-shot away from the men. There was a thicket just over the summit of the rise that screened the horsemen from anything in the valley below; but the men and boys could see through this thicket clearly enough to overlook the whole plain.

“There they are! Cricky, Chet!” whispered Dig, the first to spy the game. “Buffaloes again. And Chet—look! There’s the king of them all!”

Grazing below them was the royal game they had already chased, and the huge bull was with them. Chet swiftly counted them and found fifteen. It was the same herd they had seen before and from which they had already taken toll of the robe and horns Dig carried behind his saddle.

This was a steep hillside they looked down, and the valley between it and the next rise was narrow. It was, indeed, like a pocket in the hills, and the opposite wall of the pocket was even steeper than this one.

It was an ideal grazing ground for the herd, however. There was abundant grass, a limpid stream ran through the valley, and there was plenty of shade. Chet knew enough about the habits of the huge animals to know that they would not move from such a feeding ground before morning, at least, unless they were frightened.

“By all the hoptoads that were chased out of Ireland!” quoth Dig, in awe, “isn’t that bull a huge one? Did you ever dream of anything like him, Chet?”

“No. He’s the biggest thing I ever saw,” acknowledged his chum.

“We didn’t see him to such advantage before,” murmured Dig. “Oh cricky! how I’d like to catch him!”

“ Catch him!” exclaimed Chet. “Shoot him, you mean.”

“U-h-huh!” grunted Dig. “Maybe.” Then, with a grin: “But I roped that little maverick—why not that buster down there?”

Chet took this as one of Dig’s jokes. He swerved a little toward the men and when he was near enough he spoke:

“It’s too near dark to stalk those fellows to-night. If they’re not startled they’ll be right there in the morning. Better chance to shoot one then.”

“All right, Chet,” said Tony easily. “You’re the doctor. We ain’t got guns that are re’lly fit to put up against them beasts. But you’ve got the rifles all right. You’ve killed one o’ them already.”

“Yes. And give us half a chance and we’ll kill another,” the boy said. “Where you going to camp? That stream either rises back in that timber, or some springs that feed it have their rise there.”

“It’s a good place—and gives us shelter, too,” Tony said.

Steve would not even look at the boys, but he headed his tired horse for the grove in question. Dig rode close to Chet and whispered:

“You give them the choice of camps. What’ll we do?”

“We’ll put up with what we can get. I don’t propose to let them get situated where they can look down on us.”

“Oh! I see,” returned his chum, marvelling.

The men had the grace to camp some ways down the hill beside a clear rill. That gave the chums a chance to establish themselves at the head of the run, where the spring bubbled out from under the roots of a gigantic tree. It was a beautiful spot, and, had the boys not been so worried, and so doubtful of their neighbours, they would have considered this an ideal camping place.

Just as they had the horses picketed and their own fire burning, Dig saw Tony ascending the hill. “Here comes that big oaf,” he muttered to Chet. “Look out for him.”

But Tony’s hands were empty and he came along with a foolish kind of grin on his face.

“Don’t you boys git too previous and shoot at me,” he called. “I ain’t aimin’ to hurt you none. I’m jest comin’ a-borryin’.”

“Borrowing what?” asked Chet.

“Say! you’ve borrowed enough from us, I should think!” ejaculated Dig, with disgust.

“Well! you shouldn’t have such a temptin’ outfit,” and Tony chuckled. He had stopped at a distance, however, for Chet had loosened the six-shooter in his belt and the man respected the hint.

“What do you want to borrow, Tony?” asked Chet quietly.

“Why, I tell ye frank an’ open, boys,” he said, “we want meat an’ we want it bad. If you shoot one o’ them buffalo you’ll give us some, won’t ye?”

“All you want,” replied Chet shortly. “We had to leave most of the other carcass to the wolves.”

“Well, that’s han’some of ye,” agreed Tony. “I don’t suppose ye have more than ye want right now, have ye?” he added sheepishly. “Ter tell ye the truth—”

“Which must be hard telling for you, Tony!” broke in Dig.

“Ter tell ye the truth,” went on the big man, without noticing Dig’s remark, “we ain’t got a smitch o’ meat left.”

“Say! we’ve given him enough,” growled Dig, looking at Chet.

“We don’t need both these brace of birds,” said Chet, who was skinning the grouse. “Let’s not be piggish.”

“Piggish! by the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland!” gasped his chum. “Are you going to support these lazy thieves all the rest of the way to Grub Stake?”

Tony came nearer and put a hand beside his mouth, as he whispered:

“Mebbe we ain’t goin’ right away to Grub Stake. You want to watch us close’t if ye expect to keep in our company.”

“What do you mean, Tony?” demanded Chet, as he tossed the man a pair of the plump birds.

But the fellow would say no more. He only looked sly and grinned in his silly way. When he wanted to be obstinate, as Dig said, Tony Traddles was the equal of any mule.

CHAPTER XXVII—DIG’S GREAT IDEA

“What do you reckon that nuisance meant?” demanded Digby Fordham the minute Tony Traddles was out of hearing.

“He was hinting at something. Whether he meant to help us, or confuse us, I do not know,” confessed Chet.

“He said they were not going to Grub Stake.”

“Not at once.”

“Well! where the dickens are they going, then?” demanded the disgusted Dig.

“I don’t know. Unless the story of that Steve’s having lost the deeds is true, and he means to try to slip us and go back to the place where he thinks he dropped them.”

“He’ll have a hot time slipping us,” the other boy said boastfully.

“I don’t know. He evidently knows this country better than we do.”

“That’s easy, for we don’t know it at all!” exclaimed Dig.

“Well, there may be a chance for them to fool us in these rocky hills. Maybe this proposal for a buffalo hunt is just for that purpose.”

“Not if they need meat so badly as they seem to,” remarked the other boy, with more thoughtfulness than he usually displayed.

“I see!” exclaimed Chet quickly. “You think they’ll wait to provision themselves before they take the back trail?”

“Yes.”

“I’d just like to know,” Chet murmured.

He was rather silent all through supper. They could look right down into the other camp and see the two rascals moving about their own fire. The night was still and the air very sweet. They were not troubled by gnats much, either, and the horses were not restless.

Dig rolled into his blanket early. Chet did not put more fuel on the coals, for he did not want the men below to see his movements. They kept up a good fire for some time, however.

The boy knew the men were talking, for occasionally the breeze brought to him the sound of their voices. Dig slept like a top, and Chet slipped out of the camp, passed near the horses to see that they were all right, and then, pistol in belt, crept quietly down the hillside.

Eavesdropping was not a game he loved to play; but the situation seemed to call for it. If he could learn something about the plans of the two rascals, it might help him decide his own course. For Chet Havens felt deeply the responsibility that circumstances had thrust upon him.

He was naturally a thoughtful boy, and when his father had talked so seriously to him regarding the errand to Grub Stake, Chet had no idea that he would fail in any particular to fulfil his father’s wishes.

It was farthest from his thoughts (as it probably was from Mr. Havens’) that anybody would attempt to steal the deeds from Chet. The boy accused himself of having been careless, however; in no other way could the deeds have been taken from him.

Now he must get them back if it was a possible thing. Chet was prepared to run into some danger, if necessary, to accomplish this end. Therefore he crept near to the scoundrels’ camp and chanced a fight with them if they should find him there.

They did not seem to be discussing anything of much moment to Chet, however, when he first established himself behind a tree within a few feet of the campfire. Tony was speaking:

“Well! we gotter have some o’ that buffalo meat—that’s all there is to it.”

“If those boys kill one,” sneered Steve.

“Oh, they’ll kill one all right,” said Tony, with confidence. “You’ve seen what they can do with a gun—’specially that Chet Havens. He’s a crackajack!”

“Oh, I see,” grumbled the other man. “Confound ’em! If it wasn’t for their guns I’d drive ’em out of the country easy.”

“Well, wait till we can load up with some grub before taking the back track; that’s what I say,” growled Tony, puffing on his eternal pipe.

“You think altogether too much of your stomach, Tony,” complained the other man.

“Why shouldn’t I think of it? Nobody else is goin’ to,” declared the hairy one, philosophically. “Tony Traddles has had to look after his own self since he was knee high to a hoppergrass. Ain’t nobody cared a continental for him—no, sir! Old man Havens chucked him out’n his job like he was a dawg.”

“And I should think you’d be sore on this son of his, for it,” observed Steve.

“Huh! I try ter be. But them boys are such smart rascals! They kin shoot an’ foller a trail, an’ all that. They are free-handed, too.”

“There we get right back to Tony’s stomach again,” snarled the other man. “You make me sick!”

“Well, it don’t make me sick to pick the bones of a fat bird that somebody else has shot,” quoth Tony Traddles. “And you ain’t so much!” he added, with some peevishness. “You said if you got them papers from the kid you’d make a hunk of money, and I should have some of it. And then you go and lose ’em—if you lost ’em.”

“Oh, I lost ’em all right,” returned Steve, “or I’d not be knocking around this country with a couple of boys tagging me.”

“And you think you can find ’em?” queried Tony.

“I believe I can. And I want to shake these kids so as to do it. When I slipped into the river as we swam the horses from that island, I flung my coat ashore to keep it dry. Remember?”

“Yes.”

“That’s when I lost the deeds. The packet fell out of my pocket right then. I was in too much of a hurry getting that crazy pony ashore to think of anything else.”

“Well! it’s a long way back,” remarked Tony. “And I insist on getting meat first. You can’t shoot game with your pistol, and this old gun of mine ain’t much good. I told you so in the first place.”

“If we wait for these boys to shoot something, we’ll have to kill another day,” grumbled Steve. “We can only slip out and leave ’em in the dark.”

“Then make it to-morrow night,” said Tony, with decision, and he rolled over and knocked the heel out of his pipe into the fire.

Chet stole away from the encampment of the two rascals within a few minutes. Tony had pillowed his head on his arm and gone to sleep. It was Steve’s first watch.

The boy had heard enough of importance to show him that his suspicions were upheld. The man really had lost the deeds which he had stolen.

He had not discovered the loss, in all probability, until he was made prisoner and searched by the two boys. At once his mind had gone back to his adventure on the shore of the river, now mentioned to Tony Traddles.

Chet was confident that he knew what river was meant. It was the shallow stream in which the men had striven to hide their trail just after they had robbed Chet and Dig. The former believed the island spoken of must be below the ford at which he and his chum last crossed.

“I could turn back and find that place—pretty nearly—in a day and a half,” thought Chet. “That’s where the fellows aimed for when they started out the morning after we captured them.

“Our sticking to their trail made them turn this way. Steve is going to try to throw us off and go back to find the papers. Why not beat him to it?”

Chet had sufficient food for reflection to keep him wide awake during his vigil. He let the fire die out and he kept back in the darkness, watching the other camp continually. He saw Steve move about occasionally; but the fellow did not offer to come up the hill; and as for Tony, by the way he had gone to sleep, Chet was quite sure he would not be easily aroused.

When Chet awoke his chum and partner he said nothing about what he had overheard at the other camp. Only, he advised his friend to watch the man below them closely.

“I’ll keep my eye on him, all right,” promised Dig. “B-r-r-r! it’s cold! What did you let the fire go out for, Chet?”

“It’s safer. You can see better without the light flickering in your eyes. And you can stir around and keep warm,” said Chet. “It’s me that’s got to lie cold. Wake me up in good season, now.”

Dig obeyed that last request. He roused Chet just as soon as the dawn streaked the eastern sky. Dig Fordham was excited, too.

“Whew, Chet!” he whispered. “I’ve thought up the greatest scheme!”

“What is it?” demanded Chet, yawning. “My! but you did get me up early enough, in all good conscience!”

“Don’t be a lazybones. The coffee is made,” said Dig. “And don’t forget that we’re to have another crack at the buffalo.”

“Yes? Well, maybe.”

“Whew! where’s your enthusiasm?” demanded Dig, disappointed.

“Wait till I get the stickers out of my eyes,” said Chet, going to the full spring.

After he had ducked his head into the cold water, and scrubbed his face and hands and behind his ears, he felt more awake to the situation.

“What’s the wonderful idea, Dig?” he mumbled, as he rubbed himself dry on the towel he had had wisdom enough to bring along. Camping out without a towel is simply punishment; and it was easy enough to dry the towel in the sun while they ate breakfast.

“I reckon you don’t want to hear about it,” grumbled Dig.

“Oh, go on! I was half asleep. What have you been conjuring up, old man?”

“Why, it’s about those buffaloes,” Dig whispered, as though he feared somebody would hear him besides Chet. “Rather about the big bull.”

“Well?”

“Let’s capture him!” exclaimed Dig.

“Huh? Oh, yes, another joke. Put salt on his tail?”

“By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland!” declared Dig earnestly, “this is a good thing.”

“I don’t see how you’re going to capture a creature as big as an elephant—and twice as mad.”

“That’s where my scheme comes in.”

“Explain! explain!” urged Chet, spreading the towel on a bush.

“Why, I’ll tell you: Just as soon as it began to grow light this morning I saw Tony lie down and go to sleep. His partner was dead to the world, too; so I knew they wouldn’t bother us. I took the glasses and went just outside the timber, there, and tried to find the buffaloes.”

“They’re all right, aren’t they?” asked Chet, with interest.

“Sure. They spent the night in one of those small groves down there. They’ve just begun to come out to graze.”

“I see.”

“Well, I spied out the whole valley from where I stood. There’s a band of antelope further down, too. But we don’t care for them.”

“Not while the buffaloes are in sight,” chuckled Chet.

“Now, listen! Across the valley I saw the openings of two or three narrow gulches—regular pockets in the hill over there.”

“Hey!” cried Chet, sitting up both physically and mentally. “What is this, boy?”

“My idea,” said Dig, with confidence, “and it’s a good one. Those pockets can be made into corrals at least, one of them can.”

“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Chet. “You think we can corral those buffaloes?”

“Maybe the big one. Sell him to some speculator or a showman,” said Dig.

“Say! that would beat all the hoptoads that ever hopped out of Ireland,” declared Chet. “Let’s have those glasses.”

“Wait till you have your breakfast.”

“Breakfast be jiggered!” ejaculated Chet. “I want to see what those pockets look like from out yonder. To corral some of those buffaloes! Well! that would beat shooting them, I should think,” and he hurried away from the campfire.

CHAPTER XXVIII—GREAT LUCK

The sweep of the hill-bound vale was visible for ten miles from the hillside where the boys were encamped. They were almost at the head of the valley. The buffaloes grazed five miles below.

The slope of ground bounding the valley on the north and east was too steep to tempt the buffaloes to mount and graze upon it. Of course, once frightened and with better escape shut off, the herd would not refuse to come over this hill. Buffaloes are almost as sure-footed as deer.

The other side of the valley—the south side—was bounded by steep terraces which would have been hard for a man to climb in many places. These steep walls were broken here and there by gashes cut in the hillside by nature in ancient times.

As far as Chet could see, these gulches were not barren. Grass and brush grew plentifully as far up the cuts as he could see, and here and there a tall tree stood, topping the walls of the pocket.

Digby Fordham’s suggestion regarding the capture of some of the buffaloes was well worth attempting. At least, so it seemed to Chet’s enthusiastic mind. He was just as eager to try to drive the buffalo herd as was his chum.

He went back to breakfast briskly. Dig had everything all prepared.

“What do you think of it?” he asked doubtfully.

“We’ll try it. But we have to fool those two fellows down below there, as well as the buffaloes.”

“Why so?” asked Dig curiously.

Chet told him in a low voice while they ate just what he had heard at the other camp the evening before. He believed that Steve was watching for a chance to get away from them; but that, because of Tony’s insistence, the two villains would wait until they obtained some meat.

“Tony isn’t one to starve uncomplainingly in any cause,” Chet said decidedly. “And Steve doesn’t want to lose him—”

“Why not? He’s not much good to him, seems to me,” said Dig.

“Figure out how you’d like to be in the wilderness yourself, all alone,” said Chet. “Especially when there is occasion to keep watch. A man can’t travel all day and keep watch all night, too.”

“I reckon that’s so,” agreed Dig.

“If for no other reason, Steve needs Tony. They’ll keep together. They have had no luck hunting. Haven’t the proper guns. They are depending on us—”

“To be their commissary department, eh?” growled Dig.

“That’s about it.”

“The cheek of ’em!”

“Well, I don’t know. As long as we want to keep near them I’d just as soon have them dependent upon us for food,” Chet reflected.

“You’re still going to follow them, then?”

“To the bitter end,” chuckled Chet. “When that fellow goes back for those deeds, I’m going to be right with him.”

“I hope he won’t fool us,” Dig said doubtfully.

“He won’t if we keep our eyes open. I hope we are as smart as he is!” exclaimed Chet, with scorn. “Well! I’m willing to feed them, as I say. But I’m going to give them something to do—and in doing it they’ll be right where we can watch them.”

“While we’re hunting those buffaloes?” asked Dig excitedly.

“Yes, sir! Now listen, and don’t interfere.”

“I’m an oyster,” said Dig promptly.

The men were now astir in the camp below. The boys finished their breakfast and cleared everything away. They packed their outfit as though for a day’s march. Then, while Dig watered the horses and fastened the blanket-rolls to the cantles of the saddles, Chet approached the other camp.

“Hey, you fellows!” he called, “if you want any of the buffalo meat that we hope to kill, you’ve got to help get it.”

“Sure, Chet,” cried Tony briskly.

“That’s understood,” said the other man, though not very graciously.

“Want us to drive ’em for you?” queried Tony, who was no bad hunter himself, when he had a good weapon and a decent mount. Both the rifle and the pony he now possessed were wretched.

Chet told them what he desired. He and Dig were going to ride west to head the buffaloes off. They proposed going back over the crown of the hill and entering the valley some miles below the spot where the herd of buffaloes was now feeding.

“Although we’ll approach them almost down wind, we’ll trust to the speed of our mounts to get in a couple of shots, at least. The whole herd may tear up this way. But we’ll probably wound one, if not two, and they’ll lag behind. If you are ready for them, that old rifle of Tony’s—even your pistol,” and he spoke directly to Steve, “may put the finishing touch to our work.”

“Good boy. You’re right,” said Tony briskly.

“I want you to lengthen your lines with your lariats, and let your ponies drift out into the valley. If the buffaloes are frightened and come on the run, they won’t bother about the ponies. You fellows keep down, of course, until the beasts are near. Then up and at them!”

“They’ll easily keep out of the range of our guns,” said the man Steve, doubtfully.

“Then they’ll have to turn back on us,” Chet said, confidently. “We’ll have them between two fires. That’s the only sure way we have of getting one of the beasts. Do you want to do your share?”

“You got the rights of it, Chet,” said Tony Traddles. “Sure we agree.”

“Speak for yourself!” snarled the other man.

“Well, if you don’t want to eat—” began Chet; but Tony broke in with:

“Aw, don’t mind him! He’s a born sorehead. Of course we want to eat. We’ll do like you say.”

“Then let’s see you get your horses down there on the plain,” said Chet promptly. “When I see you fixed right, Dig and I will ride around to head the buffaloes off.”

Perhaps Steve saw through Chet’s subterfuge. It would not have taken a very keen man to do so. But he evidently agreed to the proposal because Tony urged it. Tony had an appetite.

The men finished their breakfast (it wasn’t a big one, as the boys well knew) and soon rode down the hill into the grassy valley. Thickets of scrubby trees hid their movements from the grazing animals.

Chet and Dig rode off up the hill; but they did not lose sight of the men whom they so distrusted—not for some time. Through the screen of verdure that topped the long hill, or ridge, the boys could see down into the valley and keep watch of both the men and the grazing buffaloes.

They saw the former reach the last shelter down the valley and there dismount, deposit their goods and saddles, and then rope out their two mounts. As the boys had first stalked the buffaloes several days before, Tony and Steve did now.

Satisfied, Chet and Dig put spurs to their mounts and covered six or seven miles along the wooded ridge very quickly. Occasionally they spied upon the buffaloes and knew that nothing had disturbed the animals’ placidity. They were comfortably grazing on the bottomland.

After viewing the exposed valley through the glasses for some minutes, Chet announced the programme. Dig, although the originator of the scheme to attempt the corralling of some of the buffaloes, was quite willing that his chum should take the lead.

Keeping the screen of wood between them and the view of the buffaloes, the chums descended the steep hillside into the narrow valley. Its mouth was a number of miles west of their position. Directly opposite, and cut into the more abrupt southern wall of the valley, was one of the pockets that Dig had first discovered and pointed out. They rode there to examine it.

The approach to the gulch could not have been arranged better had it been originally intended for a trap for wild animals. In similar pockets in the hills the boys knew many herds of wild mustangs had been caught by hunters in past years. Now the wild horses were almost as scarce as the buffaloes.

On the left hand the hillside was too steep and rocky for any animal with hoofs willingly to run that way. Sloping up from the waterside on the right hand was a thick hedge of low trees, so closely interwoven that buffaloes, at least, could not burst through the barrier.

The mouth of the pocket was plain, if narrow. It was the only escape in sight—if the herd could be driven this way. Yet the pocket could be closed easily.

On one side stood a thickly branching tree. If it was felled correctly after the animals were enclosed not even the big bull buffalo could make his escape. The chums saw the possibilities of the place with glee.

“Whew!” ejaculated Dig, “it’ll be pie.”

“Couldn’t be better if it were made for us. Now, let’s see if it is really a place in which we can bottle some of the animals.”

“Cricky! we’ll get the whole herd!” boasted Dig.

“Be more modest—be more modest,” urged Chet, laughing. “Wouldn’t you be satisfied with the big bull alone?”

“Would a duck swim?” returned his chum.

They rode into the gully and looked about them. It was heavily grassed in the bottom; but the sides were almost as steep as a wall. No buffalo—no matter how nimble—could scale those walls.

They rode to the head of the gulch. It was some eighth of a mile deep, and there were several tall trees in it. The soil in the bottom was a rich, alluvial deposit that gave verdure of all kinds deep rootage. And there was a free-flowing spring.

“Pasture here for a hundred head of cattle, I declare,” Dig said. “If we can get those buffaloes in here, they’ll be in clover until we can find the means of capturing or shooting them.”

“And what will Tony and that Steve be doing, I wonder?” Chet said doubtfully.

“Whew! I had forgotten them.”

“They’re a part of the pickle, all right,” Chet said, “and must be figured on.”

“Cricky! it would be a nice note if they not only stole your deeds, but got our buffaloes away from us, too.”

“Beginning already to lay claim to the buffaloes, are you?” returned Chet.

“Well, we saw them first,” declared the other lad.

Feeling that the pocket was secure—if they had the luck to drive the buffaloes this way, Chet laid out the further plan of action, and Dig agreed. They rode back to the brook, watered their horses, hid their outfit, save the serviceable camp axe and their guns, then cinched up and rode through the brook.

The trail boys were still hidden from the grazing game by thickets of low shrubs. But they knew just where the buffaloes were.

Coming on them from the north side of the valley, Chet hoped to shoot at least one and stampede them across the brook, instead of up the valley toward the spot where the two men were in waiting.

As Dig had said admiringly, Chet was “longheaded.” He knew the men wanted some meat, and that was all. If the boys shot a buffalo where the herd now grazed, Steve and Tony would not trouble themselves about the remainder of the buffaloes.

“If we can get the herd across that brook, and headed down stream, we’ll stand a good chance of corralling them, Dig,” Chet said. “We’ll cross the stream, too, keep near enough to head them off from the water, and they’ll be likely to take the first opening in the hillside that promises escape. They can’t get through the thicket below there, and if we keep them turned south they’ll find our pocket.”

“Whew! I’m just as excited as I can be,” declared Dig. “Let’s get into action. We’ve played to great luck so far; I hope it doesn’t break on us.”

“Ha!” laughed Chet. “Remember that there are two things easily broken—glass and luck.”