The maverick scrambled up with a snort of fright as the black horse whirled upon him. Dig tried to get up just as quickly; but when he put his weight upon a turf at the brink of the stream, the sod broke away and down he plunged, with his right arm into the water to his arm-pit. “Oh—ouch!” gurgled Dig. “What’s the matter now?” “Trouble!” called Chet. But, as Dig claimed afterward, that was no fit warning. He didn’t know whether he was being attacked from behind, before, on either flank, from the sky above, or whether trouble was rising out of the ground. And it seemed as though it had come from all points when it reached him. Dig was trying to rise when the calf, escaping Poke’s vicious hoofs, collided with his young master. Ker-splash! they were both in the stream! The calf was scared fully as much as Dig, if not more. Both bawled and splashed about, unable to obtain their footing at first, and had Chet not dismounted and run to the assistance of the pair, one or the other might have remained under water longer than would have been good for him. The rope had become wound about Dig’s legs in some mysterious way, and the calf was tangled up in a regular “cat’s cradle.” “I declare!” said Chet Havens, with disgust as well as laughter. “I never saw anybody do so much and to so little purpose with a rope in all my life. For goodness’ sake, Dig! come out of that water. You’re a sight!” “I—I don’t f-feel much b-b-better than I—I look,” chattered his chum. “That water’s cold, lemme t-tell you.” “I know it’s wet—from just looking at you,” proclaimed young Havens. “You’re in fine shape for riding. What are you going to do with that blamed calf now?” “Take him to Grub Stake,” said Dig obstinately. “You can ride on without me, if you want to, Chet. But Stone Fence is going to be my companion if I spend the rest of the summer on the trail.” He would not remount then, however, but made Poke trail on behind him while he urged the complaining Stone Fence with a willow wand. Besides, the sun would dry his garments better when he walked, and the exercise kept him from becoming chilled. “Gee! Haw!” he was soon calling to the yearling, teaching him to turn from side to side as the case might be. “Never too young to learn,” Dig confided to his chum. “Mebbe somebody will want to work him with a bull-team.” Chet rode ahead and scanned the prairie carefully. The trail they were supposed to follow was only a faint trace now. He knew the general direction to go, and he carried a compass. He did not think he could get lost; but he was watching the plain for signs of a water-hole. The sun was descending, and they must camp before dark. Besides, Chet was looking for signs of disturbing animals now. Having seen the old she-wolf and her young, he expected to find other—and perhaps more dangerous—creatures on the plain.