"If they turned an' charged, I'm afeered it's all up with Henry." returned the old frontiersman. "A mad buffalo can make short work o' a hunter. He's wuss nor a mad bull."
They moved off slowly after this in something of a semicircle. Occasionally one or the other would raise a yell, but to these cries no answer was returned.
"Might as well give it up, Dave, onless ye want to ride around all night," said Barringford at last.
He had hardly spoken when Dave drew up his horse.
"Hark, Sam! what is that?"
The old frontiersman listened attentively for several minutes.
"Wolves, onless I miss my guess," he replied presently.
"They appear to be heading toward us."
"No, they are off in that direction, Dave." Barringford pointed with his hand. "They are after something."
"Not our buffalo meat, I hope."