“Dick,” he exclaimed, drawing up his horse with a sudden jerk—“Dick, have some buffaler hump for dinner?”
“Sartin,” replied the trapper, hastily rising to his feet, and throwing away his pipe. “In course. Saddle up to onct, youngsters. We’ll have some game now as is game.”
The announcement that there is a herd of buffaloes in the vicinity, always creates an uproar in a hunter’s camp, and there was no exception to the rule this time. The boys had never seen the trapper so eager; and even Mr. Winters, generally so cool and deliberate, was not so long in saddling his horse as usual. This, of course, had an effect upon the boys; but, as is always the case, their hurry occasioned them a considerable loss of time. Archie could not find his bridle, and Frank, in his eagerness, broke his saddle-girth; and, to increase their excitement, the others, as soon as they had saddled their horses (Dick rode one of the mules) and secured their weapons, rode off, leaving them alone. Archie, after a lengthy search, found his bridle in the wagon, and Frank at last succeeded in mending his saddle-girth with a piece of buckskin. The boys’ rifles stood together against a tree, close by, with all the accouterments hanging to the muzzles. Frank’s being a common “patch” rifle, he, of course, had a powder-horn and bullet pouch, while Archie carried the ammunition for his breech-loader in a haversack. The latter was ready first, and hastily seizing the gun that came first to his hand, secured Frank’s instead of his own, and, putting his horse into a gallop, rode down the bed of the creek, throwing the powder-horn and bullet pouch over his shoulder as he went. Frank was ready a moment afterward, and finding his own rifle gone, he, of course, took Archie’s. Although he thought nothing of it at the time, he afterward looked upon it as a lucky circumstance. In addition to their rifles, the boys each had two revolvers, which they carried in their holsters. Frank overtook the hunters at the edge of the prairie, where they had stopped to wait for him, and to hold a consultation. The high swells that rose in every direction shut them out from the view of the game, but old Bob knew exactly where to go to find it. As they went along, at an easy gallop, Dick rode up beside the boys, and, addressing himself to Frank, said:
“Now, youngster, this’ll be new bisness to you, so don’t be keerless. You must ’member that your hoss ar’ as green as a punkin in buffaler huntin’, an’, if you let him get stampeded, he’ll take you cl’ar to Mexico afore he stops.”
“Stampeded!” repeated Frank. “Does a horse ever get stampeded with buffaloes?”
“Sartin he do,” answered the trapper, with a laugh; “an’ if you ever get teetotally surrounded by a thousand bellerin’, pitchin’ buffalers, you’ll say it’s the wust scrape you ever war in. So don’t go too clost to ’em. If your hoss gets frightened, stop him to onct, and quit follerin’ ’em.”
Dick was then proceeding to instruct the boys in the manner of hunting the buffaloes, when old Bob, who had been leading the way, suddenly came to a halt.
“They’re jest behind that swell,” said he. “Don’t you hear ’em? Now, we must separate.” Then, in hurried whispers, he pointed out the station he wished each to occupy, and, after Dick had again cautioned Frank to keep his horse completely under his control, the boys rode away in different directions.
When Frank reached his station, he stopped his horse, examined his rifle, opened his holsters, so that he could readily draw his revolvers, and waited impatiently for the signal. The hunters were stationed about a quarter of a mile apart. Old Bob was in the center of the line. After satisfying himself that they were all in their places, he waved his hat—the signal for the advance. They all started at the same moment, and, before Frank could think twice, his horse had carried him to the top of the swell, and he was in full view of the game. The sight that met his eyes astonished him.
He had often read of the prairie being black with buffaloes, but he had never seen it before. The herd was an immense one, and stretched away in all directions as far as his eye could reach. But he was allowed no time for admiration, for, the moment the hunters made their appearance, the buffaloes discovered them, and made off at the top of their speed, the noise of their hoofs sounding on the hard prairie like the rolling of thunder. Pete was not afraid of buffaloes, and he soon carried his master within easy range of the herd, the nearest of which fell at the crack of his rifle. Too impatient to reload his gun, Frank drew one of his revolvers, and, forgetting, in his excitement, all the trapper’s advice, spurred after the flying herd; and, so close was he to them, that he seldom missed his mark. When he had fired all the charges, he returned his empty weapon to his holster, and, as he drew the other, he cast his eye in the direction of his companions, and was a good deal surprised to discover that some of the herd had got between him and the rest of his party, and were running almost side by side with him. On the outer edge of the herd, he saw his cousin in company with the trappers. Archie had, doubtless, emptied all his weapons, for he appeared to be engaged in reloading. Further back, he saw Mr. Winters, who had stopped to “settle” a large bull he had wounded. He also noticed that the mule, on which Dick was mounted, being entirely unaccustomed to such business, and frightened by the discharges of the fire-arms, and the noise of the rushing herd, was making desperate but unsuccessful attempts to throw his rider. Frank, taking this all in at a glance, then turned his attention to the animals nearest him, and soon emptied his second revolver.