"Nuthin'; only you know as much about thet as I do about the buffalo. Ef he comes this way, we'll git him, an' if he don't, why, we won't git him, thet's all," and the old frontiersman continued his enjoyment of the pipe.
"You said buffaloes like such prairie ground as this," declared Henry.
"So they do, so they do; but most of the buffaloes thet war here air gone—either killed, or lit out to the westward. Ye see," went on the old hunter, "buffaloes air like elk—they need lots o' elbow-room. I've been told thet a young buffalo will travel fifty miles an' think nuthin' of it."
"I don't think I want to try running down a young one then," answered Henry. "I'll try an old one that can't travel over three or four miles," and this caused a general laugh.
They had spent the entire morning on the edge of the prairie, keeping somewhat out of sight so as not to disturb any game that might appear. All had enjoyed an unusually hearty dinner, and were quite content to take it easy during the middle of the day. A faint breeze was blowing which was exceedingly pleasant, for the morning had been a trifle warm.
"I wonder what the folks are doing just now," mused Henry.
"I think I can tell you," answered Dave. "Your father and Rodney are getting ready to go back to the field to work, your mother is clearing off the table, and little Nell is playing with the twins. Perhaps they are wondering what we are doing at the trading-post, too."
"Them twins is what gits me," came from Barringford. "It's mighty funny I can't find out who they belong to, ain't it?"
"It is in one way, Sam; but you must remember that many women and children have been lost in the last five or six years. This war has been simply awful in that respect. The Indians don't think anything of carrying them off into captivity."
"Well, why should they, when you come to think of it?" came from Henry.