"He has had a lough time of it, poor fellow," murmured the old frontiersman. "If we hadn't 'a' come up as we did, he would have been done for."
"Is he seriously hurt?" questioned Dave anxiously.
"Don't think he is, Dave. It's his wind as has given out."
Barringford was right, and it was not long before Henry revived. His arm was slightly pierced in three places and on his left leg were two long, irregular scratches. These were washed and bound up by Dave, and during the time consumed Barringford managed to start up a tiny fire in spite of the dampness.
"Where in the world have you been?" asked Henry. "I watched and watched for you."
"And we've been hunting for you until we were about ready to give it up," answered his cousin. "The wolves put us on the track."
Sitting around the fire, which Barringford coaxed into a respectable blaze, each party told what had happened since the separation.
"Reckon as how you've had your fill o' buffalo huntin' jest for the present," said Barringford, when the narratives were concluded. "Buffaloes an' wolves is a terribul bad combination."
"Where is your game?" questioned Henry.
"About two mile from here, I reckon."