They moved as steadily ahead the next day as they had the day before. About the middle of the afternoon Little Bear was riding in the lead. He rode to the top of a small hill. In a wide valley just across the hill was a great herd of buffaloes. The herd was moving east. Since the wind was from the north, Little Bear’s scent was not carried to the buffaloes. He whirled his horse around and rode back to stop Grandfather and the horses.
“What is wrong?” Great Bear demanded anxiously.
“There is a great herd of buffalo just ahead of us,” Little Bear told him.
Great Bear dismounted and walked to the top of the hill. He soon returned.
“The herd is moving to the lowlands ahead of the snows,” Great Bear explained. “We can get all the meat our horses can carry.”
Little Bear’s eyes sparkled. He and Great Bear would ride into camp with a long string of captured horses. If they brought those horses in, loaded with meat, they surely would be heroes.
“Let’s get some buffaloes,” he urged.
Grandfather had been as excited as Little Bear. Now he hesitated.
“Riding into a big herd when it is on the move is dangerous,” he cautioned.
“I have killed a buffalo,” Little Bear reminded him.