In spite of the delay, the boys had made good progress on the Grub Stake trail when they stopped for a bite at noon. They were well through the foothills, the tall mountain in which were located the silver mines above Silver Run, was behind them, and the trail had become only a faint trace, yet easily followed because of the nature of the country.
Now and again they had obtained glimpses of the open plains through the gullies between the wooded hills—here a great stretch of lawn covered with short buffalo grass; yonder an open piece of country strewn with brilliant flowers.
As they sat on their haunches, cowboy fashion, beside the dying fire over which the coffee had been boiled, the chums suddenly saw a flight of swiftly bounding little animals cross the line of their vision. They passed across the opening between two hills to the north and were gone in a breath.
“Whew! did you see them?” gasped Dig, almost spilling his coffee.
“I saw something,” admitted Chet.
“What I want to know is, did you see the same thing I did?” pursued Dig, grinning. “They went so fast I didn’t know but I had ’em again.”
“I can assure you that you didn’t have those again. They’re almost too quick to lasso. They’re antelopes.”
“Whew! I’d like to catch one; but I never do have any luck catching things, unless it’s measles, or something perfectly useless.”
“Too bad, too bad!” said Chet pityingly, and quoted:
“‘’Twas ever thus since childhood’s hour