“Would a duck swim?” returned his chum.
They rode into the gully and looked about them. It was heavily grassed in the bottom; but the sides were almost as steep as a wall. No buffalo—no matter how nimble—could scale those walls.
They rode to the head of the gulch. It was some eighth of a mile deep, and there were several tall trees in it. The soil in the bottom was a rich, alluvial deposit that gave verdure of all kinds deep rootage. And there was a free-flowing spring.
“Pasture here for a hundred head of cattle, I declare,” Dig said. “If we can get those buffaloes in here, they’ll be in clover until we can find the means of capturing or shooting them.”
“And what will Tony and that Steve be doing, I wonder?” Chet said doubtfully.
“Whew! I had forgotten them.”
“They’re a part of the pickle, all right,” Chet said, “and must be figured on.”
“Cricky! it would be a nice note if they not only stole your deeds, but got our buffaloes away from us, too.”
“Beginning already to lay claim to the buffaloes, are you?” returned Chet.
“Well, we saw them first,” declared the other lad.