“Or a cup of coffee?” suggested his chum.
But Dig was very much interested in his new possession. He was up two or three times in the night to see if he were tangled in the rope.
“The maverick ought to be ‘gentled’ very quickly,” Chet said; “he is receiving enough attention.”
The boys did not try to keep watch. They looked for no danger, and the horses feeding near the camp would give notice of the approach of any wild animal.
There was no disturbance and the chums finally slept soundly beneath their blankets till morning. Indeed, the bawling of the yearling for water after sunrise was what awoke them.
“Say!” yawned Chet, rising and stretching. “We’re a fine pair of travellers—I don’t think! We won’t get started as early this morning as we did yesterday. Let’s hurry breakfast.”
“No, no!” objected Digby. “Hurry anything but the meals.”
Nevertheless, Chet allowed only bacon, flapjacks and coffee to be prepared, although Digby had brought fishing tackle and begged for enough time to try for the catfish in the river.
“I just know there are catfish as long as your arm down under that bank,” he declared. “They’d go fine, Chet. Why eat bacon when you might have a nice catfish flapping in the pan?”
Chet, however, had made up his mind that they ought to make fairly good time on the trail until they should pass the second line of foothills. Then they would reach the broader plains, on which it was reported the herd of buffaloes had been seen. If the expedition to Grub Stake was to be delayed at all, he hoped it would be delayed only by the huge buffalo and its mates, of which the men about the Silent Sue shaft had spoken.