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.