CHAPTER XXI
BAGGING A BUFFALO
“There was an arrow shot; I saw it sticking in the side of that buffalo before it fell over, after running off a little way!” whispered Sandy, excitedly, when both he and his brother dropped back again beside the Irish trapper.
“And I saw that wolf holding a short bow!” gasped Bob.
“Oh! how could that be?” Sandy exclaimed.
“Whist! don’t spake so loud on yees life, me byes,” broke in Pat, holding up a warning finger. “There do be danger to us all, right here.”
“Danger!” echoed Sandy; “from the buffalo?”
“From the Injuns, be the powers,” added the trapper. “Not a worrd now, above the faintest whisper, do ye mind, till we lay our plans. ’Tis a ticklish job Pat has on his hands, so it is.”
“Indians!” breathed the startled Sandy; and then, like a flash, a look of comprehension passed over his face. “Oh! now I understand what you mean. That old wolf isn’t what he pretends to be; but an Indian brave, covered with a wolfskin.”
“Glory be! the bye has guessed it!” chuckled Pat, who could be amused even when facing imminent peril.