“What do you suppose he wants?” queried Chet doubtfully.
“Don’t know. See! they’re both looking over there—”
Dig prepared to ride on, but Chet stayed him. “Have a care, boy,” he said. “Those fellows aren’t above playing some trick on us.”
“I know they’re not above it,” grinned Digby.
“But I don’t believe they can get us in the open like this.”
“Just lay your rifle across your saddle forks. Be ready with it—and let them see that you are ready.”
“All right,” agreed his chum, and in that way—with rifles in hand—the two boys rode up toward the men they had trailed all day. Steve turned and saw their caution and his grin was sardonic. But Tony was too excited to notice the muzzles of the heavy rifles pointing his way as the boys rode up to the summit of the hill.
The hairy man did not shout to them, but gestured and beckoned. For that reason Chet suspected that he had sighted game and wanted their help in securing it. Even Steve was eagerly watching what lay beyond the hill.
Chet pressed off to one side, so that they were a short pistol-shot away from the men. There was a thicket just over the summit of the rise that screened the horsemen from anything in the valley below; but the men and boys could see through this thicket clearly enough to overlook the whole plain.
“There they are! Cricky, Chet!” whispered Dig, the first to spy the game. “Buffaloes again. And Chet—look! There’s the king of them all!”