“There, what did I say?” said Chris, laughing. “He’s thinking about roast beef for dinner.”
“Then he won’t get any to-day,” cried Griggs. “There they go; they’ve taken alarm.”
“Oh!” cried Ned, as the black objects suddenly disappeared. “We ought to have shot one.”
“They’re all right,” said Griggs coolly. “We know that there are buffaloes in this part of the country, and we can stalk one when we like. We don’t want meat to-day. I say boys, we’ve only seen them, but we know now there’s something else.”
“What?” cried Ned.
“Wolves.”
“How do you know?”
“Always are. They follow the bison-droves.”
“But a great bull bison could easily kill a wolf.”
“But a calf couldn’t,” said Griggs dryly. “They hang about after the droves so as to pull down the very young calves, and kill the mothers too, sometimes. Well, this is a good beginning, and I only hope we may find beef like this in our larder wherever we go, till we discover the old city.”