“If those mules aren’t broken to buffalo there won’t be any fun—except for the buffalo,” observed Billy.
“Yes, Hi and Jim are liable to be stampeded clear back into Leavenworth,” chuckled Mr. Baxter.
With the four at the wagon keenly watching, Hi and Jim pursued their circuit. They rode at rapid gallop, and presently disappeared in a shallow draw. The next sign of them was the action of the buffalo herd. Animals on the farther outskirts began to lift their heads and stare and show uneasiness. Gradually the whole herd were staring in the one direction; and on a sudden, like a vast blanket tossed by the wind, forth they lunged into motion. And with reason, for out into the open, on the far side of them, came racing hard on their long-eared mules, Hi and Jim.
“Hurrah!” cried Billy Cody, exultant. “Those mules are O. K. Lie low and stay by the wagon, fellows. Meat’s coming.”
“What’ll I do?” yelled Left-over. “Where’ll I go?
“You do as I say,” ordered Billy, thoroughly alive. “Stay right here. We may have to split that herd.”
On blundered the buffalo. The roll of their hoofs sounded like heavy thunder, and the dust floated over their dark backs. Pressing valiantly, Hi and Jim held their mules in the rear, and, still circuiting, forced the herd over toward the wagon.
“Great Cæsar’s ghost, boys!” gasped Mr. Baxter, straightening in his seat. “Don’t forget that I’m up aloft here, and I’ll land hard if that herd strikes us!”
The herd arrived almost before he had finished speaking. The foremost—a big cow in the lead—went streaming past just in front of the wagon; and the whole van of the shaggy, crazy army loomed in one grand charge on either hand.
“I’ll tend to this side; you and Left-over tend to the other,” shouted Billy to Dave. “[Give it to them! Split ’em! Split ’em!] Wave yore hat, Reverend.”