“I can beat you!” bellowed Poko, and he gave a playful dig with his horns in Shaggo’s ribs.
Instead of taking it good-naturedly, as most of the buffaloes would have done, Shaggo grumbled:
“Here! What are you doing? Quit your fooling!”
“Oh, excuse me! I didn’t mean anything!” said Poko, for he knew better than to get Shaggo “mad.” More than one member of the herd had felt the strength of Shaggo’s mighty head, though the big buffalo had never done any real harm. Whenever any one plagued him, he just butted them head over heels, as a goat might do.
Down the slope ran Poko after Soako, and soon the two buffaloes were wallowing around in the mud hole. “Wallow” is just the word that tells what they did, and so the places where the buffaloes went on the prairies to get away from mosquitoes, gnats and flies came to be called “wallows.” You may read about them in stories of the old West.
Over and over, and around and around in the mud rolled Soako and Poko. They sank themselves down in the deep wallow until only their nose tips stuck out, so they could breathe. They covered themselves with mud. And if their fathers or mothers could have seen them, instead of telling them to come out, the older buffaloes would have gone into the mud themselves.
For this was the only way the buffaloes had of getting rid of the biting flies. The big, shaggy animals would cover themselves with a coating of mud, and as long as this stayed on they were in comfort. The flies and mosquitoes could not bite through the dried, caked mud.
“Come on, Shaggo!” cried Soako, tumbling about in the hole which was kept wet by a nearby spring. “Hurry! The mud’s fine to-day!”
“Yes, you’re missing it!” added Poko, who was beside Soako.
“I think there’ll be enough mud left for me,” answered Shaggo easily, and he went down the slope without any signs of hurrying. Once again Soako and Poko looked at each other.