“Of course not! But I’m glad to know that we’ve got rifles that will probably shoot a good deal farther than any weapons they may carry.” “Huh!” said Dig, scarcely understanding. Then he inquired: “Do you suppose, Chet, that these were the chaps that startled that wolf yesterday, and spoiled our buffalo hunt?” “I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” said Chet. “Ho! then let’s catch and hang ’em,” grinned Digby. “No punishment is too bad for them.” But neither boy could extract many smiles from the situation. As it chanced, the thieves had overlooked their remaining piece of deer meat. Their pocket drinking-cups were left them, too. They toasted the meat over the fire and washed it down with water, thus making an early and frugal breakfast. It was growing faintly light in the east by this time, foretelling an early summer dawn. Dig brought in the horses and watered them, while Chet filled the canteens. There was not much remaining of their outfit to make ready for departure. The thieves had not left them a single cooking utensil; but they had coffee, condensed milk, pepper and salt. “That blamed Tony Traddles is just mean enough to do a thing like this,” Dig declared. “But we’ll get square yet!” The boys had an idea as to which direction the two midnight raiders had headed. It was at the western end of the pool that Dig had seen the one in the saddle waiting for his comrade. “If they intend to make any use of those deeds father intrusted to me,” Chet said, “they will hike out for Grub Stake.” “Good-bye to the buffaloes, then,” sighed Dig. “We won’t see them again.” “I don’t suppose so,” returned his chum. “But getting those deeds to Mr. John Morrisy is of more importance than shooting the big bull. Father trusted us to do his errand, and we’ve got to do it.” “How’ll you make those fellows give up the deeds, Chet?” queried Dig, in wonder. “I don’t know; but I’ll find a way when we catch up with them, don’t you fret.” When the horses were saddled and ready, Chet went ahead, leading Hero, and found the place where the second man had mounted and the two riders had wheeled and galloped away from the camp they had robbed. Chet Havens was quite a sensible lad for his age, and he secretly wondered why the thieves had been so afraid of two boys. It scarcely seemed reasonable that they should be so fearful. “Unless it was Dig’s rifle shot that scared them off,” he thought. “Perhaps the men are not prepared to face rifles. Yet, I am quite sure they were stalking the buffaloes as well as we. They could not expect to shoot such beasts with pop-guns.” It was easy to follow the trail left by the riders for some miles. The hoofs of their horses cut the sod sharply, and threw up bits of turf as the animals scurried over the ground. The route the thieves had followed was across a range quite unfamiliar to the chums from Silver Run. It led almost due west, and the trail was possibly parallel with the trace leading to Grub Stake.