“But, Chet,” squealed his chum. “You don’t need to shoot him after he’s dead. Save your powder and lead—
“Whew! what’s happened? Stone Fence seems to be all right.”
“And if I hadn’t shot Mr. Wolf just in the nick of time, Stone Fence would have been slaughtered to make a lupine holiday,” chuckled Chet. “They’ve run, the cowardly scoundrels.”
“Thought you said they weren’t cowards?” yawned Dig.
“They’re not hungry enough to be brave yet. In the dead of winter, however, they’d have come right in to the fire and fought for the calf. Shorten the tether on him, Dig. And I’ll bring the horses nearer. I don’t like these beasts. They sneak in too close for comfort.”
“Say! you’ve waked me up now,” grumbled Dig. “Might as well stay awake. I’ll keep watch. What time is it?”
“Wake me at midnight,” Chet said, not at all loath to give his partner a bit of work.
He rolled up in his blanket; but he did not sleep at first, although he closed his eyes. Dig did not make any particular noise, but he kept stirring around the camp. The horses and the yearling remained quiet for a long time.
Dig was getting tired of his vigil. He slumped down with his back to the same tree against which Chet had rested. Then—one, two, three, and he was off! A long snore, and he was in the Land of Nod.
Save for the boys’ breathing the camp was still. Stone Fence probably dozed as he lay at the end of his tether. The horses were grazing again.