“Make up your mind that he is going to attract night prowlers.”
“Good! I want to get a shot at something besides grouse.”
“Never mind. Deer liver for supper to-night,” said Chet.
“And the tongue. That’s a fat doe; there’ll be plenty of kidney suet to fry the meat in. Whew! I’m hungry now,” cried Digby.
“Never saw such a disgracefully hungry person in my life,” declared his chum. “Always thinking of your stomach.”
They did not see the wolves again as they came out upon the edge of the great prairie. Indeed, they saw no animal. The prairie rolled away before them as far as they could see. To the north and to the south were lines of hills; but a haze almost hid the higher Rockies toward which they were bound.
Chet stopped at a stream and they filled their canteens.
“Try to be careful with it,” he advised Digby. “We’re not sure that we shall reach another stream to camp beside. I’m not so sure of the trail from here on, anyway.”
“I’ll get a good drink right here, then,” said his chum, climbing carefully down.
With the maverick to take care of he had to be cautious as to his movements. It was not safe to leave the lead-rope tied to the fork of his saddle, for if the calf pulled when the saddle was empty, Poke immediately backed around preparatory to throwing his heels at the blatting young calf.