This last was a terrible object, with the shaggiest mane the boys had ever seen on a buffalo. He showed the scars of numerous fierce battles, and one of his short black horns had been twisted out of shape in some former combat, so that it gave him a peculiarly wicked appearance.
Of course, when picking out their game, neither of the hunters had the slightest idea of aiming for the patriarch of the herd. He would be much too tough a morsel for any one to chew, unless reduced to the point of actual starvation, when he might be preferable to slicing up one’s moccasins for soup.
The old fellow seemed to understand his business as acknowledged guardian of the herd. He moved hither and thither, and, every once in so often, stopped to look around him, as though in search of signs of trouble.
Then he would shake his great head, give a proud snort of conscious power, strike at the ground several times with one of his forefeet, and finally go on with his feeding.
By this time the hunters had arrived at the point where to proceed further would be to accept unnecessary risk of detection. They knew well that, once the alarm was given, the whole herd would quickly be in motion.
While they might possibly succeed in a shot taken at a moving target, the chances of a miss were much greater than they cared to take. So Dick concluded the time had come for them to pick out their quarry, take deliberate aim, and then fire as close together as possible.
A moving form attracted their attention close to the trees. It was the hungry wolf, possibly seeking some new shelter. If the feeding animals noticed the gray form at all they paid little heed to his presence, having contempt for a single wolf. It would have been at the risk of his life for the wolf to make a dash out toward the herd. Hungry though he probably was, the slinking beast must have known this, for, after giving a stretch to his head, as though longingly sniffing the air, he crept once more back into the shelter of the timber.
Roger chuckled to himself, though deep down in his boyish heart he felt sorry for that hunger-tempted wolf. He was also thinking that, if their plans turned out well, they would leave a feast behind sufficient to satisfy the appetites of both panther and wolf.
One last survey Dick took of the open stretch before them. He noticed that the old bull was sniffing the air suspiciously just then. Whether he had caught traces of their presence, or it was the fact of the prowling wolf that began to bother the bull, Dick could not say.
In fact, things had by now reached a stage where he did not think it mattered. Directly before them, and in plain sight, were two of the yearlings, one of them a fine, sturdy-looking young bull.