CHAPTER XX—A MIDNIGHT ALARM
As Chet surmised, the timber was open, with a good sod and little rubbish or shrubbery. None of the bushes was big enough to hide the buffaloes even at a distance.
Not an object moved under the trees as the boys pressed on their tired mounts. If the herd of buffaloes had come this way it had not stopped to graze in the shelter of the timber.
And that fact puzzled Chet Havens and caused much disappointment to his chum, Dig Fordham.
“It gets me!” grumbled the latter. “You figured the thing out all right, Chet. We sneaked around and came up behind them all according to programme. But plague it all; somebody’s removed the buffaloes. They ought to have stopped here.”
“Maybe they kept on to water,” said Chet ruminatively.
“Whew! That wouldn’t be a bad idea for us! Where do you suppose water is? The last drop dribbled out of my canteen two hours ago.”
“Water’s right under our feet, I suppose. See how thrifty these trees are. But we can’t stop to dig for it,” said Chet. “We’d better let the horses find it.”
“And give up hunting the buffaloes?”
“For to-night. We don’t know how far away our camping place is—and night is coming fast. The horses have travelled hard.”
“Right!” agreed Dig. “But I hate to give over the hunt.”
“We’ll see what the morning brings forth,” Chet said cheerfully. “Let’s give the nags a free rein. Get on, Hero!”
The bay and the black horse were both thirsty. The boys could see no stream; but their mounts unerringly knew the direction of the nearest water. Both horses were range born and had run wild as colts. The instinct of their ancestors, the pure-blooded mustangs, was strong in them.
They struck almost directly northward through the timber and came out into the darkening plain on the other side. Night was coming fast and the boys naturally grew anxious.
They were not exactly lost. Chet had his compass, and, moreover, they could tell the general direction easily enough by the setting sun. But the Grub Stake trail was a long way behind them and all this country to the west, north, and east was entirely strange to the trail boys.
“Those buffaloes have plenty of country to hide in,” complained Dig, as the horses plodded on. “No wonder we didn’t find them. Whew! this is a big state, Chet.”
“We can pick up their trail in the morning if we want to,” returned his chum, smiling.
“How?” demanded Dig, interested.
“Why, all we need do,” Chet explained, “is to go back to those mounds, find the trail of the buffaloes, and follow it. They left a trace that a blind man could scarcely miss to the point where we turned west. It’s easy.”
“Whew!” blew Dig. “Of course! What a thickhead I am! We’ll get those buffaloes yet.”
“I don’t know,” Chet returned thoughtfully. “Ought we to go so far from the Grub Stake trail? Father did not tell me to hasten; but I am sure he expected us not to delay much on the road. I’ll feel a whole lot better, too, when I’ve attended to these deeds,” and he patted his breast to make sure of the packet he carried.
“Surely you wouldn’t drop the chase when we’re so near those beasts?” cried Dig.
“We don’t know how near they are. Maybe they’re running yet,” returned Chet grimly.
Their mounts quickened their pace and the boys fell silent. Twilight had fallen, and the immensity of the plains and their loneliness impressed the lads. Suddenly Chet started upright in his saddle and pointed ahead.
“Look!” he cried.
It was the gleam of water. There was no mistaking it. The horses snorted and broke into a trot. It was a fair-sized sheet of water, lying in a little saucer scooped in the plain—a “water-hole” in the West, but what would have been called a “frog-pond” in the East.
Rushes and willows grew about it. There were several stunted trees, too, offering plenty of firewood if not much shelter. The stars were already appearing in the arch of the sky overhead, and that would be their tent-roof.
The two chums became cheerful, however, as soon as they saw water and fuel. An open camp on a fair night like this had no terrors for them.
They unsaddled their mounts, let them drink their fill, and then hobbled them on a flat piece of prairie next to the camp. The fire was built and the strips of venison toasted. They were ravenously hungry and the remainder of the haunch the robber had left for them now looked very small. There was no more hard-bread.
“Whew!” sighed Digby, “I reckon we’ll have to start for Grub Stake bright and early in the morning, for we haven’t anything to eat!”
“We still have coffee, and milk for it, and all these cooking things,” chuckled Chet. “Lots better off than many hunters. Lost all your desire to shoot a buffalo, Dig?”
“Shooting a buffalo is all right, I don’t doubt,” returned his chum scornfully, “but chasing all over this country hunting the creatures isn’t much fun. Say, Chet!”
“Put a name to it.”
“What do you suppose ever scared that wolf so?”
“The wolf that stampeded the buffaloes?”
“Yes.”
“You may have three guesses. But that’s why we’re going to keep watch and watch to-night,” Chet said grimly.
“You don’t think it was another hunting party?” cried Dig.
“I believe nothing but human beings would have so scared that grey rascal. My! how he ran! I didn’t think of it at the time. I was too excited,” Chet said reflectively. “But take it from me, boy, that wolf was running from man.”
“I don’t understand it,” declared Dig. “If there had been another party besides us stalking that herd, why didn’t we see them?”
“They wouldn’t have been very good hunters if we had seen them,” laughed Chet.
“I mean after the buffaloes were stampeded. They must have been in that thicket out of which the wolf came.”
“Sure. And the very fact we didn’t see them after the stampede, makes me suspicious,” Chet returned. “I tell you, Dig, that party that stopped on the trail and robbed us last night puzzles me greatly.”
“How so?”
“They left the trail somewhere this side of our last camp; but I couldn’t see where. They were careful to hide their tracks.”
“I reckon, considering that they had robbed us.”
“Well, that might be so, too,” ruminated Chet. He did not want to frighten his chum regarding Tony Traddles and the strange man whom Amoshee had said were on the trail behind them. Yet the thought of the pair of rascals stuck in Chet’s mind and dove-tailed into the mystery of the two who had stopped to rob their camp.
“Well,” Dig said finally, “I suppose we’ll have to do as you say—keep watch. But we haven’t seen anything of any prowlers and it is likely those fellows who troubled us before are a long way from here.”
“Hope so,” agreed Chet. “But we’d better be sure than sorry.”
The boys were tired after the activities of the day; but Dig insisted upon standing the first watch. “And believe me!” he said, “I shall march up and down all the time. No sleeping on post this trick!”
Thus dividing the vigil, Chet bade him good-night and rolled up in his blanket. It was a warm night, however, and later, after he was dead asleep, the boy kicked the blanket off.
Dig kept away from him, however. There was no sound of roaming animals of any kind at first, and the watchman did not consider it necessary to feed the dying fire. The stars rendered a faint light and he could see objects in outline quite plainly.
The horses fed near the camp, and the ripping sound of the grass as their strong teeth severed it from the roots was the only sound Dig apprehended for some time.
It was as quiet here at this water-hole in the great plain as it would have been in Dig’s back yard. There was not even the rustle of a breeze in the brakes.
Dig tramped back and forth along the edge of the pool, occasionally stooping down to peer through the dusk at the horses. He could see them better that way. He kept away from his sleeping chum and their outfit purposely. He did not propose to rouse Chet until it was full midnight.
He grew thirsty and started to kneel down by the side of the pool to drink. Then he remembered that the horses had quenched their thirst on this side of the water-hole, and the water was likely to be roiled and muddy. So he started around toward the other side.
The water-hole was twenty yards across and its edge was screened by bushes and brakes for most of the way. Dig looked for an opening where he could kneel and reach the water, intending to fill his canteen and bring it back with him to the camp.
Poke stamped and whinnied; but Dig did not hear his mount. He kept on until he was fully half way around the water-hole. The plain seemed quite as silent and deserted as before. He could not see the spot where his chum lay nor even the gleam of the firelight now.
Chet was quite given up to sleep. He lay on his back with the neck of his shirt open.
He did not hear the restlessness of the horses, nor any other sound about the camp. Not at first, at least. But when a rifle exploded somewhere near, Chet Havens awoke with a start.
“Hi! what’s that?” he ejaculated, and sat up suddenly, throwing off the final restraining folds of the blanket.
“Dig! where are you?” he added and, getting no answer, he scrambled to his feet and picked up his own rifle that had been lying partly under him.
His chum was nowhere to be seen. He shouted again: “Dig! Dig!” and then strained his ear to catch the reply. But there was no immediate answer and Chet found himself shaking with apprehension. What had become of his chum?