“Wait till you have your breakfast.”
“Breakfast be jiggered!” ejaculated Chet. “I want to see what those pockets look like from out yonder. To corral some of those buffaloes! Well! that would beat shooting them, I should think,” and he hurried away from the campfire.
CHAPTER XXVIII—GREAT LUCK
The sweep of the hill-bound vale was visible for ten miles from the hillside where the boys were encamped. They were almost at the head of the valley. The buffaloes grazed five miles below.
The slope of ground bounding the valley on the north and east was too steep to tempt the buffaloes to mount and graze upon it. Of course, once frightened and with better escape shut off, the herd would not refuse to come over this hill. Buffaloes are almost as sure-footed as deer.
The other side of the valley—the south side—was bounded by steep terraces which would have been hard for a man to climb in many places. These steep walls were broken here and there by gashes cut in the hillside by nature in ancient times.
As far as Chet could see, these gulches were not barren. Grass and brush grew plentifully as far up the cuts as he could see, and here and there a tall tree stood, topping the walls of the pocket.
Digby Fordham’s suggestion regarding the capture of some of the buffaloes was well worth attempting. At least, so it seemed to Chet’s enthusiastic mind. He was just as eager to try to drive the buffalo herd as was his chum.
He went back to breakfast briskly. Dig had everything all prepared.
“What do you think of it?” he asked doubtfully.