“I don’t believe they knew any more about the course the buffaloes took than we did. They are aiming for Grub Stake, just the same.”
“So are the buffaloes,” said Dig. “At least, they were when they went out of sight.”
“In that general direction—yes.”
“Whew! Suppose we overtake them again, Chet?”
“Then maybe we’ll get a second robe. Otherwise we’ll have to cast lots for the one you’re sitting on right now, Dig,” and young Havens laughed.
Nevertheless, excited as the boys were over the buffalo herd, Chet insisted in slanting at a sharper angle south than the big game had taken. It was the trail of the two men who had robbed them that Chet was the more anxious to pick up.
He was a brave boy—and a determined. His father had entrusted him with the papers relating to John Morrisy’s share in the Crayton claim. Mr. Havens’ lawyer in Silver Run had prepared the documents. For all Chet knew, the names might be changed in the body of the documents and then, if Mr. Morrisy signed them, they would give somebody besides Mr. Havens title to the old mine.
The loss of the documents worried Chet greatly. He felt, somehow, that he had been to blame in allowing the thieves to get the deeds. He should have been more watchful, especially after the warning he had had of threatening danger.
The horses were still fresh, although they had travelled some distance that day. They kept on at a fast pace for several hours—until, indeed, the sun was down. There was then a strip of timber ahead, which seemed to extend clear across the plain, as far as the eye could see, from north to south.
“And no sign of those rascals yet,” grumbled Dig. “Could we have crossed their trail without knowing it?”