The beasts were corralled. Chet wasted little time in congratulating his chum and himself. Luck and foresight had brought about the capture; but it would take something more to make it of any value to the chums. Both the boys realised that.
“We have to get to Grub Stake and interest somebody in our haul,” Dig said. “That’s the ticket for us.”
“And we have something else to do first,” Chet replied, as they got back to the horses. “We’ve left those two rascals, Steve and Tony, too long by themselves. I bet they’ve hiked out after those lost deeds already.”
“What? without their meat?”
“Come on! I reckon the condition of that buffalo we shot will surprise you,” said Chet.
And it did. Dig sputtered like an overfilled teakettle when they reached the place where they had dropped the young bull.
No animal had been drawn to the kill, although several timid coyotes sneaked out of sight behind the nearest thicket. But the robe was ruined. The body had been slashed right into, without any pains being taken to butcher it properly. The better parts of the carcass had been taken, and the mess that had been made of the remainder sickened the two boys. They cut off a few shoulder steaks, and got away from the spot as soon as possible.
“They got their meat and have hiked out for that island in the river,” Chet said, sternly. “That’s all they wanted, of course. Steve saw his chance to start now instead of to-night, and he took it.”
“We can follow their trail, Chet,” exclaimed Dig. “The nasty things! They ruined that buffalo.”
“We’ll do better than follow their trail,” Chet said quickly.