“I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” said Chet.
“Ho! then let’s catch and hang ’em,” grinned Digby. “No punishment is too bad for them.”
But neither boy could extract many smiles from the situation. As it chanced, the thieves had overlooked their remaining piece of deer meat. Their pocket drinking-cups were left them, too. They toasted the meat over the fire and washed it down with water, thus making an early and frugal breakfast.
It was growing faintly light in the east by this time, foretelling an early summer dawn. Dig brought in the horses and watered them, while Chet filled the canteens.
There was not much remaining of their outfit to make ready for departure. The thieves had not left them a single cooking utensil; but they had coffee, condensed milk, pepper and salt.
“That blamed Tony Traddles is just mean enough to do a thing like this,” Dig declared. “But we’ll get square yet!”
The boys had an idea as to which direction the two midnight raiders had headed. It was at the western end of the pool that Dig had seen the one in the saddle waiting for his comrade.
“If they intend to make any use of those deeds father intrusted to me,” Chet said, “they will hike out for Grub Stake.”
“Good-bye to the buffaloes, then,” sighed Dig. “We won’t see them again.”
“I don’t suppose so,” returned his chum. “But getting those deeds to Mr. John Morrisy is of more importance than shooting the big bull. Father trusted us to do his errand, and we’ve got to do it.”