“Sure. They spent the night in one of those small groves down there. They’ve just begun to come out to graze.”
“I see.”
“Well, I spied out the whole valley from where I stood. There’s a band of antelope further down, too. But we don’t care for them.”
“Not while the buffaloes are in sight,” chuckled Chet.
“Now, listen! Across the valley I saw the openings of two or three narrow gulches—regular pockets in the hill over there.”
“Hey!” cried Chet, sitting up both physically and mentally. “What is this, boy?”
“My idea,” said Dig, with confidence, “and it’s a good one. Those pockets can be made into corrals at least, one of them can.”
“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Chet. “You think we can corral those buffaloes?”
“Maybe the big one. Sell him to some speculator or a showman,” said Dig.
“Say! that would beat all the hoptoads that ever hopped out of Ireland,” declared Chet. “Let’s have those glasses.”