“But how in the world?”
“Why, I noticed that the other valley swung around between those two little hills. The reindeer are just grazing along, hunting new pasture. And, say, Bob!”
“Well, what now?”
“I’ve got a bully idea.”
Abruptly, Frank wormed his way around to face Art on his right, who was keeping watch against surprise on his side of the little clump of trees sheltering them.
“Art,” said he, “look over there, between those two little hills. Are those reindeer? The reindeer we saw from the hilltop?”
“Reckon so,” said Art, after a critical inspection.
“Well, Art, can reindeer be stampeded? Like cattle, I mean.”
“Reckon so. Why?”
“Well, I’m going to try it,” Frank declared in a determined tone. Still prone, he began to wriggle out of his clothes, and pulling up his legs, to unlace his boots and kick them off.