They struck almost directly northward through the timber and came out into the darkening plain on the other side. Night was coming fast and the boys naturally grew anxious.
They were not exactly lost. Chet had his compass, and, moreover, they could tell the general direction easily enough by the setting sun. But the Grub Stake trail was a long way behind them and all this country to the west, north, and east was entirely strange to the trail boys.
“Those buffaloes have plenty of country to hide in,” complained Dig, as the horses plodded on. “No wonder we didn’t find them. Whew! this is a big state, Chet.”
“We can pick up their trail in the morning if we want to,” returned his chum, smiling.
“How?” demanded Dig, interested.
“Why, all we need do,” Chet explained, “is to go back to those mounds, find the trail of the buffaloes, and follow it. They left a trace that a blind man could scarcely miss to the point where we turned west. It’s easy.”
“Whew!” blew Dig. “Of course! What a thickhead I am! We’ll get those buffaloes yet.”
“I don’t know,” Chet returned thoughtfully. “Ought we to go so far from the Grub Stake trail? Father did not tell me to hasten; but I am sure he expected us not to delay much on the road. I’ll feel a whole lot better, too, when I’ve attended to these deeds,” and he patted his breast to make sure of the packet he carried.
“Surely you wouldn’t drop the chase when we’re so near those beasts?” cried Dig.
“We don’t know how near they are. Maybe they’re running yet,” returned Chet grimly.