Accordingly, Dick was already making up his mind to “grin and bear it,” as Uncle Sandy was in the habit of saying when things could not be changed, and he had to stand for whatever came along.
Roger kept a bright lookout ahead. He hoped to be the first to discover the huge animal outlined against the white snow. Perhaps Roger had even figured in his mind just how they would approach as near as they could, and then, when their presence was discovered, and the buffalo tried to escape, they would give chase.
If the animal was tired after floundering so long through the deep drifts they would likely soon be able to come up with him, when a single shot might do the business. Roger did not forget that their ammunition was low, and that it would never do for them to be wasteful of powder and ball.
The sun presently shone forth, but it was close down to the top of the ridge far to the west, and liable to dip out of sight at any time.
“The sun has set!” said Roger, presently, in a tone of bitter disappointment.
“And we will have to give up soon, I fear,” Dick told him; “because, while meat would be a fine thing to have, we must first of all think of passing the night without being frozen to death.”
“It is going to be cold, that’s a fact,” admitted Roger, trying to show that he could grapple with the situation and not betray weakness.
Mayhew took a last look at the tracks, while the boys awaited his decision with the deepest anxiety. When they saw the guide shake his head in the negative they knew luck had gone against them, and that this meant a supperless camp.
“We have gained a heap on the critter,” Mayhew declared, “but he was still going strong when he passed here.”
“How long ago?” asked Dick.