“Yes, and it’s a good thing for us this little stretch runs along the edge of the water,” was what the other answered back.
“Listen to the buffaloes coming into the timber. There seems to be no end to them. Do you think they’ll crowd down to the water before we can get above the edge of the drove? Is there any end to it, Dick?” ([Note 4].)
“Oh! yes,” replied Dick, “and already I think we’re getting to where there are not so many, for the sound of their hoofs seems less. Keep right on coming, Roger, and in the end we’ll have a fire, and dry off.”
“That suits me, because already I’m shivering with the cold. This thing of riding at top speed with a wet jacket isn’t much fun, Dick, I tell you.”
So long as there was danger that they might be trampled under the hoofs of the herd, Roger had not given his soaked condition a single thought, for the excitement kept him up. It was only after safety seemed assured that he could allow himself to consider his feelings; and then, as he said, he discovered that he was shaking all over.
Dick proved a true prophet, for after a while they managed to get to a point that seemed to be beyond the limits of the vast drove. Further down the river they could hear the greatest splashing imaginable, as thousands of the beasts pushed into the water, either to drink, or because the press behind was so great as to crowd them off the bank.
Roger was only too willing to pull up when Dick gave the word.
The rain had stopped entirely, and the mutter of thunder was only heard now in the distance, showing that the storm was past.
So the two young pioneers jumped to the ground, and the first thing they did was to slap their chilled arms vigorously back and forth, after the customary method of starting a circulation of the blood.
“Now, how about a fire?” asked Roger.