“Why, it’s about those buffaloes,” Dig whispered, as though he feared somebody would hear him besides Chet. “Rather about the big bull.”
“Well?”
“Let’s capture him!” exclaimed Dig.
“Huh? Oh, yes, another joke. Put salt on his tail?”
“By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland!” declared Dig earnestly, “this is a good thing.”
“I don’t see how you’re going to capture a creature as big as an elephant—and twice as mad.”
“That’s where my scheme comes in.”
“Explain! explain!” urged Chet, spreading the towel on a bush.
“Why, I’ll tell you: Just as soon as it began to grow light this morning I saw Tony lie down and go to sleep. His partner was dead to the world, too; so I knew they wouldn’t bother us. I took the glasses and went just outside the timber, there, and tried to find the buffaloes.”
“They’re all right, aren’t they?” asked Chet, with interest.