That was about as strange a procession of humanity as the West Shore road had ever seen; but the buffalo knew nothing about it. His mind was filled with the indescribable joy of freedom, a sensation which we Americans are supposed to have at all times. He was shaking his head and his tail defiantly, and also shaking a leg as he skurried on up the track. The proprietor never gained an inch, though he kept his horse going for dear life.
It is less than a mile from Highland Falls to West Point; the buffalo put that distance between him in no time, but not long after that he struck a snag. The road enters a long, black tunnel at West Point. The bull didn’t like the looks of the tunnel; neither did he like the looks of Smithers, who was sweeping up in the rear. To make matters worse, there came a roaring sound from the tunnel and a glare of light—the night express. That was too much; the bull plunged down the bank and into the river. A few minutes more and he was far out from shore and a mere black spot upon the water.
Having deserted our friends the Banded Seven, we thus find our way to them again. For the plebes, you remember, were pulling their heavy old tub across that river when we left them, and their course was such that it took them very near to that buffalo indeed.
And that was how the fun began.
CHAPTER VII.
EXCITEMENT ON THE RIVER.
The Banded Seven were having a first-rate time just then. In the first place, they were returning in triumph from a daring venture, about which to tell the angry cadets next morning was a delight to look forward to. Then, besides, Master Dewey had hit upon a scheme for their edification. Indian, the fat boy, so Dewey vowed, was taking up more room and sinking the boat more than anybody else. It was only fair that Indian should be made to row. That terrible sentence was now being carried into effect, and poor Indian was in the last stages of perspiration and exhaustion, when the shores of the river echoed with the shouts of encouragement from the others.
It was because they were making so much noise that they did not at first perceive the excitement that was taking place on shore. They heard the roar of the train as it came through the tunnel, and they watched it whirl from the station and around a bend in the river. But Smithers and his circus hands they did not observe for a long time after that. They were too busy exhorting poor Indian.
By the time that buffalo had been in the water some ten minutes, however, the crowd had increased in number to a mob, and then all the Banded Seven’s hilarity could not drown their shouts. The rowing stopped abruptly, and the plebes turned in surprise and alarm to stare at the spectators who lined the shore, just barely visible in the half-hidden moonlight. And a moment later a loud snort and a splash was heard in the water very near them.
Mr. Smithers’ buffalo had not quite calculated on the size of that river, and he was beginning to get tired. He dared not go back to the shore, and so when he made out a black object in front he made for that in a hurry. The object was the Banded Seven’s boat!