“Two meals together!” Dig declared. “I’ve got to catch up on my rations, Chet.”
There was a thicket near, and the boys gathered fuel and made a hot fire. They broiled the ribs on green withes, and, still having seasoning, they made a hearty repast, while the horses cropped the buffalo grass eagerly.
It was late afternoon when this was over and Chet said they must move on. They cut out the tidbits and several good steaks; but were forced to leave the rest of the meat for the coyotes, who were already hovering on the tops of the hillocks.
“Good-bye, first buffalo!” exclaimed Dig, looking back at the red carcass. “It’s the greatest kill we ever had, Chet, old boy! Won’t your folks and mine be surprised when they see this robe?”
“I hope we can cure the robe in time, so that it will be a nice one,” Chet said, with some anxiety. “We must spread it out carefully every place we camp.”
“And, say! where will we camp next?” cried Dig. “We’re a long way off the Grub Stake trail.”
“It’s still south of us, somewhere,” said his chum. “We’ll find it. But I hope we’ll pick up the trail of those two robbers first.”
“By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland!” exclaimed Dig. “I had forgotten all about them.”
“I hadn’t,” returned Chet grimly. “We must find them, boy.”
“Do you suppose they came this way after the buffaloes?”