On and on traveled Shaggo. Now and then he stopped to crop the rich grass, or to drink at some small water hole. He did not again come to one as large as that at which he had fought the antelopes.
And once Shaggo accidentally stepped into the hole house of a prairie dog. It was an old hole, and no one lived in it, but Shaggo tripped and fell, hurting his sore shoulder very much.
“Oh dear!” groaned the buffalo, and he felt so bad that he stretched out on the grass and did not get up again for some time. But at last the pain eased somewhat, and then the mighty buffalo wandered on, looking for a place to sleep.
The next morning, on a distant hill, Shaggo saw some small figures, like black dots moving about.
“I wonder if they can be buffaloes?” thought Shaggo. He watched them carefully, and then he knew the black dots were men moving about, some on horses. Shaggo was more or less acquainted with men. He had seen them in the National Park, and once he had been very close to several who had come to mend the broken wire. The men had not tried to hurt the buffaloes, so Shaggo and his companions were not afraid of them.
“But maybe they are trying to get me inside the fence again,” thought Shaggo. “I am not ready to go back to the preserve yet. I’m going to run away farther.”
So he trotted down into a valley, where the men could not see him, and traveled on. But the next day Shaggo saw the men again, and there seemed to be more of them.
For a week or more Shaggo wandered on, now and then seeing the men again. Sometimes they were near, and again far off. Then, one day, something happened which was the beginning of many strange adventures for the buffalo.
He had eaten his fill of sweet, green grass when he felt a longing for some salt. Animals often have this desire. On the range, from which he had run away, Shaggo knew of several places where there were “salt licks.” There the ground was white with salt, and the animals could lick it up with their tongues.