The bears had plenty of berries and other forest fruit. In the winter or in the early spring after his hibernation, Bruin would have stalked this maverick as cleverly as any wolf. The latter creatures were not plentiful in the hills now, and the coyotes were so cowardly they would not pull a bull calf down unless it was a cripple—especially when there was plenty of smaller game. The mountain lion is always hungry; but he does not often come out of the hills save when a herd of cattle is being wintered in some well-watered valley like this in which the chums from Silver Run were encamped. Then the cougar will slink down and lurk on the outskirts of the herd to catch a cow and calf away from the protection of their mates. “Your maverick struck a fat time in this valley, Dig,” Chet said. “It’s escaped all beasts of prey save man. What are you going to do with it? It’s rather old for veal; but I expect he’d be fair eating—would give us all the steaks we’d need between here and Grub Stake.” “I reckon not!” exclaimed Digby Fordham. “We’re not going to butcher him.” “What then?” “I tell you I’m going to lead him to Grub Stake.” “Cracky! you’ll surely bite off an awful mouthful to chew,” laughed Chet. “It is a hundred and sixty or seventy miles to Grub Stake, and that maverick will pull back every foot of the way.” “I don’t care,” said Dig obstinately. “I can sell him if I get him to Grub Stake.” “Waugh!” said Chet, laughing. “Who do you suppose would want this little, scrawny red-and-white dogy?” “Don’t call him names, Chet. Poor little fellow,” said Dig. “Wonder if he’d like a leg of this grouse to pick?” “Or a cup of coffee?” suggested his chum. But Dig was very much interested in his new possession. He was up two or three times in the night to see if he were tangled in the rope. “The maverick ought to be ‘gentled’ very quickly,” Chet said; “he is receiving enough attention.” The boys did not try to keep watch. They looked for no danger, and the horses feeding near the camp would give notice of the approach of any wild animal. There was no disturbance and the chums finally slept soundly beneath their blankets till morning. Indeed, the bawling of the yearling for water after sunrise was what awoke them. “Say!” yawned Chet, rising and stretching. “We’re a fine pair of travellers—I don’t think! We won’t get started as early this morning as we did yesterday. Let’s hurry breakfast.” “No, no!” objected Digby. “Hurry anything but the meals.” Nevertheless, Chet allowed only bacon, flapjacks and coffee to be prepared, although Digby had brought fishing tackle and begged for enough time to try for the catfish in the river. “I just know there are catfish as long as your arm down under that bank,” he declared. “They’d go fine, Chet. Why eat bacon when you might have a nice catfish flapping in the pan?”