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.”