Mr. Havens and Mr. Fordham looked at each other. To tell the truth, the gentlemen had discussed this very thing, only the boys did not know it. “Your boy is all right,” drawled Mr. Fordham, “but mine is such a scatter-brained youngster—” “Oh, Dad! I promise not to scatter my brains—nor let them be scattered—if you say I can go with Chet to Grub Stake,” cried Dig, utterly unable to keep silent another minute, so great was his eagerness. CHAPTER IX—ON THE TRAIL TO GRUB STAKE But it was not all settled in a minute. The affair was of a much too serious nature. First of all the boys were sent away while the fathers privately discussed the journey and what had to be done when once the messengers reached the town of Grub Stake, which was fully two hundred miles from Silver Run. Banished from the front of the house, Chet and Digby had an eager discussion of their own, while the former carefully skinned the hawk so that it could be mounted. “Oh, Chet! we’ll have just the Jim-dandiest kind of a time if they only let us go,” sighed Digby Fordham. “And we’ll get a shot at those buffaloes,” said Chet, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, shucks, boy!” drawled Dig. “You’ve that big buffalo on the brain. I still declare that I don’t believe there is any such animal.” “Just you take your heavy rifle along. It takes a sizable bullet to kill a bull buffalo. I am going to borrow father’s big rifle.” “Say! they haven’t said we could go yet!” “Who else can go?” returned Chet. “If you’ll only promise to behave—” “Whew! how about you?” “Well,” answered Chet, “they didn’t speak about me being scatter-brained,” and he laughed. “I vow,” said Dig, “by _all_ the hoptoads that were chased out of Ireland—” “John Peep rather doubted if the toads went with the other reptilian species,” chuckled Chet. “Oh—hum! Well, anyway, I vow not to let my brains be scattered,” Dig remarked. Then he added complainingly, “I think my father is rather hard on me.” “By the way,” Chet said suddenly, “queer why John Peep left town to live up there in that shack.” “Give it up,” said Dig. “Perhaps he wanted to be ‘heap big Injun.’ I reckon all redskins are queer.” “Now, Dig! Don’t you talk that way. John made us hustle in school to keep anywhere near him in classes. You know it.” “Well! Tell us the news. Never mind about ancient history.” “I found out that John wanted to play on the school nine. You know, the club’s going to play all this summer; some of the storekeepers have put up money to back it. And the captain and coach wouldn’t let John play.” “What? By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland! I’ve seen him pitch—” “I know. He’s a great little pitcher,” Chet interrupted. “He’s a southpaw and he can puzzle most of ’em, you bet! It’s a mean shame. John Peep got sore and left town. Maybe he was sick of his family, too. They’re a lazy and dirty lot.”