CHAPTER XIX—A FRUITLESS CHASE
Chet slipped down from the summit of the rise, motioning to his chum to keep still. For, although the buffaloes were grazing so far away, he feared that a loud word spoken might startle them.
“Have they skedaddled, Chet?” Dig finally whispered when his chum came near.
“No.”
“I was afraid that they might have done so. Any chance for a shot?”
“I believe so. I’ll tell you my plan,” Chet returned in a low voice.
Dig was just as eager now as Chet himself to get a shot at the game. Chet explained quietly how the herd was grazing and what he proposed to do to overcome the lack of shelter from the down wind side.
Dig dismounted and they led the horses up the rise. They had some small discussion as to whether they should abandon the outfit while they stalked the buffaloes.
“You know what Poke will do the minute I take his saddle off. He’ll roll,” said Dig, with disgust. “And the way he kicks and snorts is enough to frighten any kind of game into a conniption fit.”
“I don’t think, after all, that the saddles and blanket-rolls will make the buffaloes suspicious,” whispered Chet. “Now lengthen your rein and tie your lariat to it. We’ll give the horses all the range possible.”
With the horses at the very end of the tethers the trail boys let them drift over the rise and out upon the plain. It was noon and they were hungry, so they began to graze immediately.
Whenever the buffaloes caught sight of the two horses, they were quietly feeding on the short grass, and moving on like themselves—up wind. A plains-bred or mountain-bred horse will always point into the wind when grazing, just as instinctively, as any game animal.
What the buffaloes did not see was the long line dragging behind each horse. At the end of the lines were the boys, creeping on hands and knees, or lying flat for a time on the prairie, to breathe.
The horses made a perfect screen for the young hunters. Chet’s plan included the stalking of the buffaloes to within easy striking distance. Then they were to spring into the saddles, cast free the ropes, and shoot from that vantage seat—following the herd on horseback if necessary, for a second shot.
It seemed as though the plan would go through without a hitch. The horses were kept moving by the boys at the end of the ropes; but they did nothing to startle Hero and Poke.
Holding the rope in one hand, each boy dragged behind him with the other his heavy rifle. If the buffaloes glanced toward the horses they would see no farther than the saddle mounts themselves. That is the way with creatures of the wild. With all their apprehension of an approaching enemy, they are satisfied of their own safety if some other creature intervenes between them and the enemy. The quietly grazing horses made the buffaloes perfectly tranquil. The young hunters were making a successful approach.
The big leader of the herd was on the far side; but Chet Havens had his mind made up to try for that very individual. It would be a feather in his cap indeed if he brought down the big bull.
There were two calves with the buffaloes; but they were of grazing age. Chet was quite sure that these calves would not keep the herd back much if once it should bolt.
The horses and their owners drew nearer and nearer. Chet had planned to come upon the buffaloes a little to one side instead of from the immediate rear. This was so the game would not have to swing their heads around to see the horses.
The more familiar they became with the sight of the grazing horses the less likely the herd was to stampede.
At the right hand—the southeast—was a considerable thicket. Chet had noticed this in the beginning; but he did not consider it a good vantage point from which to stalk the herd. He was aiming almost directly for it.
He would, however, have given considerable for just the protection that thicket afforded as the moment for him and Dig to mount drew near. The boys signalled each other without speaking. Chet assured Dig that he was going to try for the big bull while Dig signalled that he would be satisfied with a much smaller animal and pointed out one of the young males, nearer at hand.
Chet glanced all around to see if the way was clear, and had just raised his hand in signal to mount, when not only the buffaloes, but the horses, evinced sudden excitement.
The whole herd stopped feeding, and the horses threw up their heads and snorted.
“That old fool, Poke!” Dig muttered. “What does he want to make that noise for?”
A long grey body shot from the thicket and crossed the plain directly ahead of the buffalo herd. It was running like the wind; indeed, it looked to be little more than a streak as it skimmed the sod.
Neither boy had ever seen a running wolf before; but they did not need to be told what this was. With terror at his tail Mr. Wolf will match anything on four legs in speed.
And something had certainly frightened this grey rascal. He had doubtless been lurking in the thicket, watching the buffalo calves and licking his chops at the sight. Something had started him for the distant Canadian border, and it looked as though he would get there presently.
The wolf ran almost against the noses of the herd. The buffaloes huddled for a moment, the big bull snorting and bellowing. Then, as one creature, they wheeled in the track of the wolf, and set off at a lumbering canter that took them across the plain at surprising speed.
“By the last hoptoad that was chased out of Ireland!” exclaimed Dig, in disgust. “Did you ever see such luck?”
He ran to scramble on to Poke’s back; but Chet commanded him not to follow the herd at once.
“No use adding to their fright. They may only run a few miles if they are not molested,” said Chet.
“And not a shot after all that trouble!”
Chet was staring at the thicket rather than after the stampeded buffaloes.
“What under the sun could have started that wolf like that?” he muttered.
“Come!” cried Dig excitedly from the saddle, “you’re not going to let ’em get entirely away from us, are you, Chet?”
“I don’t believe we can get near them again today, Dig.”
“Why not?”
“After being scared like that they will be more watchful. And it’s two o’clock now.”
“I don’t care. Why, Chet, those are real buffaloes!”
“What’s the matter?” laughed his chum. “Did you think they were imitations at first?”
“Whew!” blew Dig. “I certainly believed they were an hallucination. I didn’t believe there were such creatures. At least, not along this trail.
“But now I’ve seen ’em—and been almost near enough to ’em for a shot—I tell you right now, Chet Havens, my blood is up! Let’s go after those buffaloes!”
“Even if they lead us to the Arctic Circle?” laughed Chet.
“Well, we have our camp equipment with us. Why not camp for the night where we happen to be? We can get back to the Grub Stake trail tomorrow.”
“And poor little Stone Fence?” suggested Chet slyly.
“Shucks! Maybe I’ll lasso one of those buffalo calves,” said Dig, grinning. “It would sell for more in town.”
It was agreed to pursue the buffalo herd for a way, at least. The frightened creatures had run from their feeding course. They had disappeared behind some round mounds to the northwest. This was almost as much off their trail as the buffaloes’ previous course had been. When the boys started on a heavy gallop after the game, the Grub Stake trail lay far to the south.
The distance to the mounds was not above five miles. The horses took up the trail at an easy pace and when they mounted the first small eminence the buffaloes were still out of sight.
“Whew!” exclaimed Digby. “I reckon they have run some distance, Chet.”
“See that timber ahead?” replied his chum. “It’s an open piece, and there is probably a stream in it, or just the other side of it. The buffaloes have gone no farther than the water, and may be feeding in the grove. If the latter, then we must approach very carefully. They can see us on the plain before we can see them in the timber.”
“Now you’re shouting, old boy!” cried Dig, admiringly. “Say! you’re a regular plainsman.”
“It stands to reason,” Chet returned, “we’ve got to use our heads if we expect to ever shoot one of those buffaloes.”
“Oh, cricky, Chet! If we only could,” said Dig longingly.
“Keep your heart up. Maybe we shall,” said Chet stoutly. “Now, let me tell you what I think.”
“Spout, brother, spout.”
“If that herd gets quiet again and goes to feeding, how will the animals head?”
Dig immediately saw what he meant, and nodded.
“Into the wind, of course,” he said.
“And the breeze holds steady, and is likely to do so until sundown,” Chet proceeded.
“Well?”
“What we want to do, then, is to make a circle to the west and come up behind the feeding herd, just as we did before. Let us not cross this plain to the timber. We’ll keep along the line of these mounds and at their foot, and find some place to cross over to the timber and the water under shelter. Come on,” and he swung Hero’s head about.
“Just one minute, Chet,” said his chum timidly, as he urged Poke to follow the other horse.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t you think we ought to eat?”
“Do you want to waste time now making camp, and cooking, and all that? Right in the middle of stalking that herd?”
“Whew! I’ll have to pull in my belt a hole or two, then,” grumbled Dig.
“Pull it in then. No stop until we have another chance at the buffaloes—or until night comes and stops us,” declared his chum firmly. “We’re real hunters now. We’re not playing at it!”
For two hours they rode steadily. The two boys scarcely exchanged a word and the horses began to show weariness. Then they came up a dead gully into the edge of the very piece of timber for which they had been aiming. There was no water in sight, and both horses and riders were beginning to suffer for it. The timber seemed more extensive than had appeared from the round back of the mound across the plain. Nor, as far as the boys could see, were there any signs of the herd of buffaloes. It really seemed as though their chase had been fruitless—and the sun was fast going down.
“Whew!” said Dig, whimsically. “We’re a long way from home, Chet. What shall we do next?”